Her Lakeside Family
Lenora Worth
A Home for the Single DadLanding a renovation job for a wealthy Millbrook Lake client is a coup for contractor Davina “Dani” Connell—one that could give her business a much needed boost. But Santo Alvanetti could be trouble in more ways than one. Dark, brooding and distractingly handsome, this recently widowed father of three is surrounded by sadness and shadows, much like his home.All good reasons not to become emotionally involved. They may be complete opposites, but there’s something irresistible about Santo. Dani’s determined to give him and his children the new home and future they deserve. But could she also be the wife and mom they need?
A Home for the Single Dad
Landing a renovation job for a wealthy Millbrook Lake client is a coup for contractor Davina “Dani” Connell—one that could give her business a much-needed boost. But Santo Alvanetti could be trouble in more ways than one. Dark, brooding and distractingly handsome, this recently widowed father of three is surrounded by sadness and shadows, much like his home. All good reasons not to become emotionally involved. They may be complete opposites, but there’s something irresistible about Santo. Dani’s determined to give him and his children the new home and future they deserve. But could she also be the wife and mom they need?
“What do you want to do at the new house?”
She laughed and tugged at her haphazard bun. “So much. A complete overhaul.” When she looked up, he was staring at her with a look akin to awe.
“Santo? Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Uh...yes.” His gaze moved over her face and then settled on her hair. “I’ve just never known a contractor with such beautiful hair.”
A blush moved down Davina’s neck. Great. Now she’d get the blotchies, as her sister Tilly always called them. A flush that only showed off her freckles. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
He kept staring at her.
“Santo, the house?”
“Oh, yes, the house,” he said with a wry smile. “I need to focus on the house.”
Frantic now, she searched her notes. What was happening to her anyway? She never acted like a ninny with clients.
With over seventy books published and millions in print, LENORA WORTH writes award-winning romance and romantic suspense. Three of her books finaled in the ACFW Carol Awards, and her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence became a New York Times bestseller. Her novella in Mistletoe Kisses made her a USA TODAY bestselling author. Lenora goes on adventures with her retired husband, Don, and enjoys reading, baking and shopping...especially shoe shopping.
Her Lakeside Family
Lenora Worth
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Therefore with joy shall ye draw water
out of the wells of salvation.
—Isaiah 12:3
To my family, always.
Contents
Cover (#u6fb96fc9-b8ea-5f62-a429-455cba161d61)
Back Cover Text (#u3e14433a-1fd9-52a5-9360-734c673cde10)
Introduction (#u9a550a87-7126-5c93-ac0a-3dfa352adfc4)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#u87a18189-b6de-52a3-a0bc-38b92cccbcb6)
Title Page (#u8cbb21ed-d625-5501-8fc4-920db60faa3e)
Bible Verse (#ua671db91-e742-5ea0-8773-1e11ec4825e7)
Dedication (#u74106b83-905a-5487-aa95-9c2fb581684f)
Chapter One (#u3881688c-f599-53ec-a784-d29eceec378c)
Chapter Two (#uc70e0232-503d-56cd-95c7-c2e9a894bee8)
Chapter Three (#u6b4c5bb9-bcdb-5a97-9ebb-b0247b2d4a55)
Chapter Four (#uab3f3e90-058c-5a51-b22a-1e7c77bb11d0)
Chapter Five (#ue1315823-ce0d-5c56-bfe4-968e38549dc5)
Chapter Six (#uc57235fe-5c7d-5500-9f84-acaf4ff768db)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
“Lucia, stop aggravating your sister! Adriana, hurry and get your backpack. Daddy’s late for work. And where did your brother go?”
A screaming cyclone whizzed by, all dark curls and giggles.
Nate.
Santo Alvanetti grabbed his two-year-old son and tried for the third time to get his shoes on. But Nate wasn’t in the mood to get dressed so he kept running away, taking off an article of clothing each time. Now he was down to his little blue jeans and one shoe.
“Daddy, the school bus is coming,” Lucia—the oldest, who’d just turned nine—screamed from the floor-to-ceiling front windows. “I’m gonna miss it again.”
Santo sent her a pleading glance. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll drop you off at school.”
The school was in town, near Millbrook Lake. Completely out of his way but he was already late. Thirty more minutes wouldn’t hurt. His cell rang, indicating his being late had already cost him money. Alvanetti Imports moved at a fast pace. He needed to do the same, but these days every morning had become a challenge and a race against time.
Adriana stomped a booted foot. “I can’t find my purse, Daddy.”
“She has a purse?” he asked Lucia. His middle child was only seven. But then, her late mother had loved expensive purses.
Lucia’s dark eyes opened wide. “Duh. We both do. Mom bought them for us a long time ago, before...” Her eyes went dull. “We need Mom back here. She knows how to find purses.”
Santo wasn’t sure how to answer that. His wife Althea was dead. She’d died a horrible death about a year ago, in a showdown with his sister Rikki and a police detective. While Santo both mourned her and resented her for betraying him, her children still missed her. Althea had tried to be a good mother but something had gone so wrong in their marriage.
Raising three children and trying to run a business made Santo too tired and stressed to try to figure out what had happened to bring his life crashing down around him. He thought of happier times with Althea, when they were younger and she still loved him. He’d pushed away his anger and pain for a while now, but his children had been acting out. They all needed help.
Nate started crying.
Santo wanted to cry right along with him but he couldn’t do that. He had to be strong. He had to get to work. He needed every ounce of strength just to make it through each day. The import business the Alvanetti family had been running for decades was legitimate now and finally back in the black.
Because he’d put every waking hour into making it work.
So he grabbed Nate again and managed to get him dressed, but the boy didn’t want to go to the day care.
“I want Mommy,” the little boy cried, kicking to get out of Santo’s arms.
Nate probably didn’t remember Althea all that much but he always echoed whatever his older sisters said. The counselor had warned Santo to let his children talk about their mother but each time they mentioned her, his heart hurt with a pain that rivaled a jagged cut. It was a tear that would never heal. Promising himself he’d never go through that kind of pain again, Santo gritted his teeth and focused on his children.
The doorbell rang, the chimes echoing over the fifteen-foot-high ceiling and the modern, wood-and-steel open staircase. Outside the spring sunshine glistened on the infinity pool and the bay below the bluffs. Santo had a stunning view thanks to the wall of glass across from the living room and kitchen.
There had been a wall of glass between him and Althea, too.
But he didn’t even notice the view anymore and the guilt he’d felt at not knocking down that wall between them had long dissipated like a morning mist over the water. He’d be so glad to get out of this house. Too many bad memories for him and too many memories of her for his children. They all needed a fresh start.
“Daddy, the bus!”
“Daddy, the doorbell!”
“I want Mommy.”
He prayed the new nanny—one of many his sister, Rikki, had hired since Althea’s death—had arrived. He hadn’t met the woman but Rikki and Blain had vetted and cleared her, stating she had impeccable credentials. Santo hurried to the door and opened it while he held Nate’s squirming, screaming little body against his heart.
The woman standing there didn’t look like the typical nanny. She had strawberry-blond hair that shot out in chunky layers around her face and chin. Her eyes were an ethereal green, like the bay waters in the early morning. She wore a plaid button-up shirt, worn jeans and...work boots.
“Hello,” the woman said. “I’m—”
“I’m so glad you’re here, Mrs. Brownlee,” Santo interrupted, shoving Nate into her arms. “The instructions are on the counter in the kitchen. The girls go to Millbrook Elementary and they usually catch the bus or ride home with a neighbor. I’ll take them to school and call the neighbor to pick them up this afternoon. Nate has day care but now that you’re here, let’s just keep him home today.”
He kissed his sobbing son. “C’mon, girls.”
Nate started crying all over again. But the woman standing there marched right on in and said something soothing in his son’s ear. Nate hiccupped and stopped crying, his misty brown eyes glued on the woman holding him.
She smiled over at Santo. “I’m sorry but—”
“I want my purse,” Adriana said on a scream, her long brown curls falling over her purple tunic and matching leggings. She looked at the surprised woman. “I can’t leave without my purse.”
The pretty nanny looked at Adriana with sympathetic eyes. “Of course not. I never leave home without my—”
“Found it,” Lucia said, shoving the shiny purple shoulder bag at her little sister. “Now can I please get to school?”
Santo let out a sigh and nodded to the woman. “You don’t have to apologize but please try to be on time from now on, okay?”
The woman’s green eyes flared with something akin to mirth. “Mr. Alvanetti, I don’t think you understand. I’m not—”
“I’m here.” A shrill, laughing voice came from the open door. “And not a moment too soon from the looks of things.”
Confused, Santo turned to find a plump, smiling woman with short auburn hair and black-framed, crystal-encrusted glasses standing on the threshold. “I’m Virginia Brownlee. I’m your nanny.”
Santo looked from the smiling woman at the door to the bemused woman still holding his son. “Then who are you?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that for the last five minutes,” she said, passing Nate back to him. “I’m Davina Connell. I’m here to help you get this house in shape to sell. I’m the contractor.”
* * *
Davina almost felt sorry for him.
Santo Alvanetti exuded power and assurance, his tailor-made suit, his hair crisp and dark and falling in touchable curls around his face and neck much in the same way as his son’s. But right now, the man’s expression filled with realization and panic, his onyx gaze darkening even more.
“I am so sorry,” he said, obviously rewinding his thoughts so he could assess the situation. “It’s been one of those mornings and I was expecting Mrs. Brownlee and I must have gotten the time wrong and...I completely forgot you would be coming by today.”
Even as he explained, one of the beautiful little girls let out a yelp and his son started crying again. While his cell buzzed over and over.
“Give me the boy,” Mrs. Brownlee said in a manner that made them all stop what they were doing. “I’ll put him in his car seat and I’ll get the girls to school. You did alert the school that I have permission to drop them off and pick them up, of course.”
His gaze moved from the prim woman to Davina. “Not yet, but I’ll put that on my list.”
“Well, let’s get on with it then,” Mrs. Brownlee said, her big glasses and boot-cut jeans made her look much too hip to be a nanny.
“Look, I’ll drop the girls at school,” he replied. “And I’ll get it all straightened out. If you can just handle Nate.”
“Nate and I will be fine,” Mrs. Brownlee replied. “When you get home tonight, I’ll go over the terms of my employment. For now, we’re all going to be okay.”
He looked from her to Davina again as if caught in a trap. Again, Davina felt empathy and sympathy for him, her heart doing a little tug that made her much too aware of how handsome the man was. “Would you walk me to my car?” he asked. “So we can discuss what needs to be done with the house?”
“Sure.” Davina smiled at Mrs. Brownlee, her heart hammering an erratic beat against her insides. “I’ll be back to look over the house and do some calculating, if that’s okay with both of you.”
Mrs. Brownlee nodded. “Won’t bother me a bit.” Giving them both an impish grin, she added, “I’ll be doing the same.”
“Let’s go, girls,” he said, prodding the two dark-haired children toward his sleek sedan. After he had the chattering, fussing girls inside the car with their seat belts on, he left the driver’s door open and turned to Davina. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know who you were. I thought my sister said David...somebody...would be coming by. I wasn’t expecting—”
“A woman?” she finished. “I’ve never been called David but my dad calls me Dani.” She spelled out the nickname for him. “I prefer Davina, however.”
“Davina,” he said, his dark eyes pouring over her like liquid chocolate. “I think I’ll remember your name from now on.”
“It’s okay,” she said to hide the sizzle of something richer and darker than even his chocolate eyes. “I was hoping we could do a walk-through on the house.”
His cell buzzed with an annoying hum. “Work,” he explained, checking it and shutting it down. “I’m late for a meeting.”
And by the way he was fidgeting, he wanted out of here.
“Well, I’m burning daylight,” she said in her firm voice that usually made surprised, unsure men sit up and take notice. “What do you want me to do?”
“Rikki trusts you so I guess I will, too,” he replied, already getting into the car. “Look it over and call me with an estimate. Maybe we can meet here again later.”
“Maybe.” She wasn’t going to hold her breath on that. “My time is just as valuable as yours, so that’s your choice.”
He stared up at her again, causing Davina to shiver even while the early springtime sun was warm on her skin. “My sister says you come highly recommended,” he said. “She just neglected to explain that you’re a woman.”
“Does that matter?” Davina asked, used to this type of conversation. “I work harder than any man you could hire.” She handed him her business card.
“It matters,” he said, his tone low and gravelly. Tucking the card in his pocket, he added, “But not in the way you might think.”
Then he cranked the car and backed out of the driveway, leaving Davina to wonder why her being here should matter to him at all.
Chapter Two (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
Davina moved around the modern, sleek living room of the house on the bay, reminding herself she was taking on this job and the renovation of the other house this man had also purchased because her friend Rikki Alvanetti Kent had handpicked her. She’d known Rikki since college and they’d kept up with each other since they both worked in the same field.
Rikki was an interior designer, so they threw each other work here and there. And this was a big chunk of work.
Davina needed this project on her résumé since she was trying to establish her budding construction company as a leading player in the ever-changing Southern real estate market. But she’d heard the rumors that swirled with all the flickering evasiveness of fireflies around the quaint town of Millbrook Lake, Florida.
Santo Alvanetti came from a gangster family. A Mafia lord. His wife murdered two people close to Rikki Alvanetti and tried to kill her, too. Althea Alvanetti died in a shoot-out at an old warehouse. Detective Blain Kent killed her to save the woman he loved. The whole mess involved a diamond-and-emerald necklace that belonged to Santo’s mother, Sonia.
Everyone says they’ve changed and that they aren’t doing anything illegal now, but you need to stay away from that family.
Although she and Rikki hadn’t talked in detail about the tragedy that had happened over a year ago, Rikki had told her if she didn’t feel comfortable taking the job, they’d all understand. But Davina had a policy that had always served her well. Ignore the rumors and get to the truth. And in renovating houses, the truth always lay in the bones. This house was a showpiece, no doubt. But the bones were sorely lacking.
Something was missing.
“I don’t feel the love,” Mrs. Brownlee said as she came back into the big open area with the majestic windows that highlighted the pool and the water beyond. “I just don’t feel it at all.”
Davina turned toward the older woman. “Me either. There’s a sadness shadowing this brilliant room.”
“I think it’s called neglect,” Mrs. Brownlee replied, running her finger over a dusty table, her earrings swaying. “It lacks warmth.”
“Yes, I agree,” Davina said. She liked Virginia Brownlee. “Even with the stunning view and all the glass that brings in the sunshine, it’s still a bit cold.”
“Call me Virginia,” the other woman said. “What do you aim to do to make this place worthy of love again?”
Davina grinned and grabbed the leather tool pouch her daddy had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday. Da had always understood her need to hammer and build since he’d once owned his own construction company. A company where she’d worked after school and on weekends just to learn the business. Until her daddy had booted her out and sent her on her way once she’d finished college.
Now, she turned to study Virginia Brownlee. “You’re awfully blunt. I like that.”
“I don’t pull any punches,” Virginia replied, her brown eyes turning melancholy. “This family is in crisis. But I knew that coming in. Such a tragedy.”
Davina wasn’t going to gossip.
“But it’s not my place to discuss Mr. Alvanetti’s personal life with anyone,” Virginia replied, confirming that she didn’t intend to do that either. Lowering her voice, she added, “My focus is on the children. I’m going to check on little Nathan. I think he might be coming down with something.”
“Have you always been a nanny?” Davina asked, making conversation since they’d be around each other a lot during the next few weeks.
“No.” Her new friend started up the open stairs and unlocked the safety gate at the top.
Okay, a bit cryptic but maybe the woman didn’t like nosy questions. Davina was known for asking a lot of questions, however. Curiosity could get her into trouble.
“I’ll be measuring and taking notes,” Davina replied in a loud retort. “I’ll also have my crew come back with me later to show them what needs to be done. I think I can bring this place up to speed to sell but it’ll be a challenge.”
“And bring the light back into this home,” Virginia said with a smile, her hoop earrings jangling. Then she toddled off on her cushioned wedge loafers, her funky glasses sparkling in the sun.
Mary Poppins with Bohemian earrings is in the house, Davina thought. But this house needed someone to shake it up if Santo expected to get top dollar when he put it on the market. Davina moved around the wide rectangular kitchen, ideas popping into her head. The planes and angles of this place were sharp and jagged, made of wood, stone and granite. Icy. Cold. Unyielding.
Like the man who owned it?
His eyes weren’t icy. They were rich and warm and chocolate. She loved chocolate. Especially dark chocolate. But his onyx gaze also held a hint of regret and a longing for redemption.
Stop that, she cautioned. Out of your league. Out of your range. Not your type at all.
Davina wasn’t sure what her type was anyway, since she went through what her younger sister, Tilly, called possibles as fast as she went through nails. She didn’t have time to date, let alone think about a client in romantic terms. Her chaotic family back in Bayou Fontaine, a sleepy river town near New Orleans, needed her help.
Her brother Darren, a hothead who thought he should be ahead of his baby sister in the construction field, always teased her about her pointed views and blunt ways.
“You can’t be mushy and sentimental about building houses, Davina. You’ll never survive.”
She’d not only survived. She’d thrived. She didn’t build houses. She rebuilt them. Her daddy had forced her out of the company, telling her she needed to make her own way. Now her overconfident brother wasn’t speaking to her but that was okay. As long as Darren took care of what was left of Connell Construction, she’d do her part by helping with the family finances.
So she ignored how Santo Alvanetti made her stomach lift and crash like a confused wave and started taking notes on what needed to be done to breathe some life into this stunning house.
Two hours later, the front door opened and Davina jumped and whirled around to find Santo standing there staring at her.
“I shouldn’t have left like that,” he said. “I hurried through my meeting so I could get back to you. I mean, back to this.” He lifted a hand toward the high ceilings. “I need to get away from this house and I’ve put off doing it long enough. My children need a new start in a more modest, child-friendly home. Whatever you can do to make that happen, I’m all for it.”
Davina went to her tote bag and pulled out a cupcake centered in a clear plastic container. “Breakfast,” she said with a shrug. “But I’m willing to share. I never make decisions on an empty stomach and I got so involved in work, I forgot I had this in my bag.”
Glancing at her cupcake, he said, “I know where you bought that and I sure hope you’re willing to share it.”
“Let’s go over my plans for this place and then... I might let you have half. That is if you agree to my stipulations.”
“You’re tough, aren’t you?”
Davina wasn’t all that tough. Right now, she felt weak, her knees trembled and her sturdy boots were the only thing holding her up. Santo Alvanetti seemed to be flirting with her. Probably trying to make up for that false start, which was still kind of sweet since she got to hold that adorable little boy.
“Don’t look so glum,” she said, trying to show him she could be fair. “I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”
He actually smiled. And her insides turned as mushy as the center of this Peaches-and-Cream cupcake she’d bought earlier.
Mushy doesn’t cut it, Davina.
The challenging echo of her brother’s words made her spine stiffen. And made her want to demo something.
“From Marla’s place?” Santo asked, hopefulness cresting in his expression when he pointed to the cupcake.
“Don’t you know it,” she retorted, trying to calm her suddenly jittery nerves. “We’ll nibble while we walk and talk. I have a lot of ideas.”
* * *
An hour later, Santo felt sick to his stomach, the sweet bite of cupcake weighing heavily against his gut. “This is your estimation?” Staring at the figures on her list of needed updates, he said, “I thought some paint and a few new rugs would do the trick.”
“Then you don’t know your house,” she retorted, her black pen tapping the paper. “One of your toilets has a loose handle and really, the whole thing has seen better days. You need something with less water-flow. More economical.”
“Toilets? I hadn’t even thought of toilets.”
“My point exactly.”
“Okay, so you also listed new hardwood flooring to replace the tile in here?”
“Yes. To warm things up and make the floors more family-friendly for the next owners. This marble in the entryway from the pool is dangerous for children with wet feet. We can put a sturdy rug there to keep the skids to a minimum.”
“And adults, too,” he admitted. “I’ve slipped there myself, several times.” Althea used to laugh at him when he’d wipe out. Of course, his deceased wife always walked around in stilettos.
“Then I think engineered wooden floors with heavy rugs at all the entryways will help with that. Now, in the bedrooms we can go with a strong, durable allergy-free carpet for the kids’ rooms and maybe hardwood in the master.” She paused. “Oh, and your master shower is outdated and kind of pretentious.”
He nodded and winced. “I’ve never liked it. I don’t need a waterfall inside a terrarium running 24/7 near my shower.”
“Good. Because this is a house, not a jungle,” she said on a smile. Then she went on to explain several more problems that he’d either ignored or hadn’t even been aware of. “We can fix all of it with a few tweaks and some sweat equity.”
“I wish it could be a home again,” he replied. “I’ll write you a check for the renovations.”
“I’m sorry for what you’ve had to deal with,” she said on a low tone.
His radar went up and the trust stirring between them disappeared. “What have you heard?”
Davina’s soft green gaze held his, strong and steady. “Enough,” she said. “But I don’t gossip and I don’t judge. I’m just sorry for your loss and everything you and Rikki have been through. She told me a little but...it seemed hard for her to talk about so I didn’t pressure her.”
Santo exhaled a breath. No, he didn’t like to talk about this and furthermore she was an outsider who had no reason to be involved in the horror of his past. But maybe he could trust her.
“I lost more than my wife,” he admitted. “Getting out of this house seems like the right thing to do. To start a new phase of my life with my children. I tried to make it work but instead of getting better, things are getting worse. It’s not healthy. They need a different kind of home now.” He leaned against the counter. “And I need to be away from this place.”
“Well, that’s where I come in,” Davina replied, her tone thankfully neutral. “I’ll fix this one up to sell and then we’ll tackle the one you bought on the lake. Now that is going to be a charmer.”
He wanted to tell her she was a charmer. She made him smile and Santo had forgotten how to do that. But he couldn’t go on just a smile. He needed her to get this done so they could all get on with their lives. “I suppose it will be worth giving my children something new and hopeful to focus on. I’ll cover the expenses. So do whatever you need to do. Just do it fast.”
“It might take as long as three weeks here and at least that many months on the lake house. So my crew and I will be around for a while.”
Santo wasn’t sure he wanted to hear that, either. Strangers moving through his home at all hours. “Okay. I’ll make arrangements to keep the kids out of your hair.”
“I’ll coordinate that with Mrs. Brownlee,” she said. “I’ll bring in a couple of crew members and we’ll work around your routine.”
Santo realized he was letting other people control his life these days but he didn’t know how to get it back on track without a little help. His sister, Rikki, had taken over a lot of the responsibilities around here. Santo needed to get himself together so Rikki could enjoy her married life.
“Whatever you have to do to make this quick and painless, I’d appreciate,” he said to Davina. “I’ll be at work most of the time but I’ll check in on things.”
She stood across the counter, her gaze danced over him and then back to what remained her of the once-giant cupcake. “Okay, now we can work out the details about who gets the rest of that cupcake.”
Santo laughed in spite of the heaviness that had burdened him for months now. “You’ve been eyeing that thing the whole time, haven’t you?”
“I sure have,” she said, grabbing the cupcake holder. Then she launched back into her grand plan for his house.
Santo listened, watching as she nibbled on the cupcake without losing a crumb. In awe, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed, money and remodeling aside.
When she whirled around to face him, they almost crashed together but he caught her and then stood back, the second of contact jolting through him like an electric shock.
But Davina didn’t miss a beat even if her eyes did widen. “And wait until you hear what I have in mind for the lake house. We’ll have a whole cake to soften that blow when I go over the details.”
Santo decided he could handle that. Davina was smart and talented and determined. And she loved her work. His sister had put him in good hands. But then, Rikki knew him so well and she’d been through this awful ordeal, too. He was glad she’d moved back here and he had grudgingly accepted her husband, Blain Kent, as a trusted friend. They’d both been a comfort to Santo over these last long months and truth be told, they’d suffered just as much as he had. Blain still had nightmares about having to shoot Santo’s wife in order to save Rikki. But they had each other and Blain loved Rikki. Santo wished he and Althea could have had that kind of solid foundation.
Maybe this house had been built on sinking sand.
He had no one, and his children, while a joy, weren’t old enough to understand what he was dealing with. Not yet, but Lucia had asked a lot of questions.
He’d have to make good on his side of this bargain, Santo decided. He’d have to invest some sweat equity of his own.
And watching Davina now with anticipation lighting up her pretty face, he didn’t think that would be such a hardship. She’d breathed new life into this house.
Maybe being around her could bring him back to life, too.
Chapter Three (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
Two days later, Davina stood in the galley kitchen of the garage apartment Rikki had suggested she rent for the spring. Since she’d be here in Millbrook Lake for months, Davina had readily agreed after seeing the neat little one-bedroom apartment located on the church grounds. It had a massive picture window with a great view of the lake, and she could walk to church and just about anywhere else. She loved walking around the lake every evening. Tonight would be a good time. Lovely, warm and with a gentle breeze.
But her cell rang before she could go put on her sneakers.
Mom.
“Hello,” Davina said, waiting for the usual questions of “How are you? Are you working too hard? Are you seeing anyone?”
She got those and more, but she only told her mom what she wanted her to know. Coming from a big, noisy and nosy family had shaped Davina’s entire personality. She liked being independent and out on her own, even if she did miss her family all the time. But she wasn’t about to tell her mother about Santo Alvanetti.
“When are you gonna settle down?” Nancy asked each time she went home to Bayou Fontaine.
“I’m settled, Ma,” Davina would always reply. “Settled into my work. I love what I do and one day, I’ll finally get our house back the way it should be.”
Ma always laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “Look at you, worrying about this old money trap when you need to be having babies and cooking meals.”
She didn’t want babies and meals. She wanted rooms to paint and trim and she wanted walls to tear down and rebuild. Her daddy had once been in charge of a growing construction company but his bad health and some equally bad decisions during the lean housing market had caused him to almost lose everything. She and Darren had done what they could, but Da was still working part-time and still struggling.
He’d forced Davina to leave the nest, telling her she had a lot of talent that she shouldn’t waste following him around.
But she’d always wondered if maybe her dad had sent her away because she was a woman and he believed she’d never be good at construction.
She’d show all of them. She wanted to help her family so she needed to get her crew settled in nearby apartments and hotels since they’d be here for the long haul.
Santo and his adorable children came to mind.
He had a family. A family in need of a good home. A loving home. But he also had walls that needed rebuilding. Or moving.
“You’ll certainly have a challenge with him,” she mumbled.
Santo Alvanetti had a solid wall around himself.
An invisible wall that he didn’t even see and a wall he obviously couldn’t see through, either. Davina always summed up a home owner while she was measuring and calculating. It didn’t take much to sum up Santo Alvanetti. Widowed, tragic and stressed to the max. Unavailable. Unwilling to risk anything. With anyone.
Her focus was on getting his place in shape to sell so she could get to the really good project. The old rambling house he’d bought on the lake in town. That house had not only good bones. It had a real heart. It would be the one house that could showcase her talents on a regional and maybe even a national level.
Davina would focus on the houses and not their owner because her goal had always been on rebuilding and renovating.
Virginia would focus on the children.
But Davina had to wonder who was focusing on helping Santo Alvanetti to heal from his wife’s betrayal.
* * *
“I can’t seem to focus.”
Santo didn’t like admitting that but he had to talk to someone and the man sitting across from him was the only person he could trust not to spread any more rumors about him.
Rory Sanderson’s blue eyes remained calm and blank. He was a good minister and Santo liked him a lot. But Rikki and her friends had brought him kicking and screaming to visit with the man who preached each Sunday at the Millbrook Lake Church in town. Today for the sake of privacy, Rory had driven the few miles north of town to the offices and warehouse at Alvanetti Imports to counsel Santo. While he looked more like a beach bum or maybe a surfer than a minister, Rory was kind and compassionate and he withheld judgment. He listened a lot more than he advised. Which scored points with Santo. He was so tired of unsolicited, unmanageable advice.
“Why can’t I just snap out this?” he asked Rory now, his gaze moving to the business card on his desk that stated in a bold, black scroll—Davina Connell Construction, Bayou Fontaine, Louisiana. “I have a new nanny and she’s great with the kids and Davina Connell is working day and night to update the house. It’s beginning to look like a different place, a better place. She’s doing things I would have never thought of doing. I should be able to relax a little and concentrate on what’s important. I’ve never had trouble balancing things, even when Althea neglected the entire family. I made it work but now... I don’t have any energy. I need to keep things going for my children and for this business.”
“It takes time,” Rory said. “Grief can take a toll and it shows up in many forms and it comes at the most unexpected times. It can exhaust you completely. You and the children might all experience outbursts, impatience, lack of focus, lack of appetite, lack of sleep.”
“All of the above,” Santo admitted. “I see the outbursts in my children but I know I lose my patience even more now than I did before.”
“So you’ve never been a patient man?” Rory asked with a wry smile.
“Not very good at it, no.” Santo thought back over the last year or so. “It’s been a while since...Althea died. I thought I’d be able to get on with my life by now but I can see how this was building up when she was still alive. My children are still suffering and I don’t know how to help them.”
“You can help them by learning to be patient. But more importantly, you need to be in the moment with them. I know that might sound cliché, but it works,” Rory replied on a gentle note. “Hold them. Talk to them. Sit with them. Read to them. And when they ask about their mother, let them talk and try to answer their questions.”
“How can I explain what happened to my wife?” Santo asked, that old dread burning through his stomach. “I can’t tell them the truth. It’s hard enough for me to accept but to explain that she died because she was trying to steal from our family and she became a murderer—trying to explain that to my children is downright impossible.”
“You don’t need to give them the brutal details,” Rory replied. “Not yet. But Lucia is old enough to hear things at school or even at church and you’ve mentioned she’s already asked some questions. Other children can be cruel. You don’t have to tell her anything but if she comes home upset, let her explain and then work from there. You can tell her that her mommy went through a bad time and made some bad choices and that you’re sad she got into trouble. If your children ask for the truth, you have to keep reminding them that Althea loved them and that it’s not their fault any of this happened.”
Santo leaned over his desk, a hand going to his forehead. “I don’t want that day to come, Rory. My heart can’t take seeing my children hurting any more than they already are. That’s why I decided to move. She came home crying one day because a friend teased her about not having a mom anymore.”
“No one’s heart is safe when it comes to their children,” Rory said. “Parents hurt when their children hurt. But you have to be strong for them.”
“I’m tired,” Santo said. “Too tired.”
“Have you thought about taking some time off?”
He let out a sigh and picked up a pen that had the Alvanetti logo on it. “I can’t.”
Rory didn’t push him. “Well, maybe leave a little early once or twice a week. Surely you have someone here you can trust to run this place in your absence.” Then Rory added an enticing tidbit of a suggestion. “Why don’t you do what you said you’d do and help Davina and her crew with the renovations on the lake house?”
Santo thought about that. Was he afraid to turn over the reins to anyone else? Probably since his trust meter was broken these days. He’d certainly become more controlling since his wife’s betrayal and death. “I did tell her I’d put in some sweat equity,” he said. “But I’d probably get in the way.”
“Davina’s good at showing home owners how to become handymen,” Rory said. “She was gentle with Vanessa and me when we renovated Vanessa’s house. A word of warning, however. Davina believes in authenticity. The house is a Craftsman style and she made sure we both honored that.”
Santo grinned and bobbed his head. “Yes, over the last couple of weeks, I’ve heard all about my mid-century modern and how I should have been true to that style while updating as needed. The woman is a tough taskmaster but she delivers her lectures with such a pretty smile, I hardly know I’m being fussed at.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” Rory asked with his own grin.
Santo held up his hand. “Oh, no. It’s not like that. We’re existing in the same space at times. I see her when I get home each night and early each morning before I leave for work. Sometimes we talk on the phone, too. She’s good at keeping me updated on how she’s spending my money.”
Maybe it was like that, he realized since he’d begun to enjoy those quick visits and her detailed updates. In fact, they had a meeting scheduled tonight at her apartment for a change.
“I’ll think about what you’ve suggested,” he told Rory. “I’m still trying to make amends for getting her confused with the nanny. Won’t make that mistake again.”
Two very different women and both of them trying to help him. He wondered what they’d thought, what they’d talked about once he’d left the house that first day. Still surprised at how attractive Davina Connell had turned out to be, he had to smile.
Rory picked up on that. “Well, you’re looking more rested and it’s good to see you smiling. I know Davina is not what you expected, but that could be a good thing.”
Santo didn’t comment. He wasn’t ready to delve into his mixed feelings regarding his pretty contractor.
After Rory said a prayer with him and left to go back to town, Santo sat and stared out at the river beyond the docks, wondering how he’d ever get over the horror of what had happened in his family.
The tall pines and old twisted oaks swayed in the spring breeze and the brownish-green water, filled with tannins and covered with a brackish sheen, moved in a steady flow to meet up with the bay. Everything moved, except him.
Once they were over the initial shock of Althea and Victor’s betrayal and the scandal had died down, his parents had become even closer and surprisingly, more faithful to God. Rikki and Blain had gotten married just a few months after they’d confronted Althea in a cold, dank warehouse not far from here but they still had bad days, too. His brother, Victor, was sitting in prison, waiting for his sentence to be up so he could get back to gallivanting and spending more of the family funds. But Victor kept telling Santo he’d changed. He wanted to help out now.
Santo couldn’t trust his brother on that yet. Victor would have to prove that he’d truly become a new man.
But Santo was here, unable to move. Paralyzed by a grief that he found both revolting and necessary. He grieved a woman he’d stopped loving long before she’d died and the guilt of that admission floored him and held him captive. His children deserved better and he needed to give everything he had to them. Not every material thing, but everything of himself.
How did he reconcile all the anger and bitterness inside his soul and go on with life even while he tried to raise his children shielded from the awful truth?
Santo sat there in the quiet of his office listening to the hum and flow coming from the warehouse. Shipments moved, employees went about their business and things got done.
He prayed for God to show him a way to make it all work together. A way to show his children that he loved them and would always protect them.
Preacher Rory had suggested he needed to be patient and he also needed to spend more time with his children. Thinking about Davina Connell and their meeting tonight, Santo decided it might time for him to make some changes, too.
Chapter Four (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
Davina eyed the I-Need-Chocolate-STAT cupcake she’d picked up at Marla’s Marvelous Desserts and thought about how she was going to eat it while watching a movie she’d recorded two nights ago. One of the many nights she’d spent alone since she’d arrived here, which was perfectly fine with her. She loved to sketch ideas and jot down notes during her quiet time. She also loved to eat decadent chocolate desserts for dinner.
But her cell buzzed before she could make it across the space from the tiny den to the rectangular galley-style kitchen, where her prized cupcake set on the counter.
The caller ID lit up. Santo Alvanetti.
“Seriously,” she said, glaring at the name and number. Now he was calling her at night?
Davina hit Accept on her cell and reminded herself she was doing this to increase exposure for her fledgling construction company. And because she loved the old lake house Santo had purchased. Not quite Victorian and not quite Craftsman, the rambling white house with its deep porches and sturdy staircases begged for a new life and a good family. She’d be the one to give it new life and Santo could supply the family, but she planned to showcase this project big-time to increase awareness of the skills she and her employees could provide.
“Hello,” she said into the phone, her eyes on that tempting cupcake with the marshmallow icing.
“Uh, hi. It’s Santo. Did you still want to meet to go over the details of the renovations for the lake house?”
Davina groaned and glanced at the clock. “Uh...yes. I am so sorry. I forgot we agreed to meet tonight.”
How could she have missed that important detail? Maybe because she’d been so busy all day, she’d agreed to this meeting in passing and didn’t type it into her phone’s calendar with a reminder.
She heard him inhale. “You weren’t there when I got home, so we didn’t verify.”
Had he missed her?
Smiling, she said, “No, I left early to meet Rikki at the lake house. We went over the whole house and I think we have a good plan. I just forgot about you coming here. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, but I’d love to hear all about it,” he said. “Mrs. Brownlee is available to stay with the children.” He took a long breath. “And she made this amazing shrimp dish. I could bring some over.”
This sounded almost like dinner, together. A date?
Davina didn’t want to panic, but she felt that fluttering in her heart. It wasn’t a good idea to get involved with a client. But then, she’d never had a client like this one. No wonder she’d pushed their meeting out of her head. She had to, to get him out of her head.
When she didn’t answer, he rushed on. “I did come home early but I wanted to visit with the children and help them with their homework.”
Davina had to admit that was sweet and impressive after the confusion and chaos she’d seen at his house a week ago. She was tired and she needed that cupcake. But she’d also agreed to meet him here so they could have some quiet time to discuss the lake house. And she really wanted to discuss that project in full.
“Do we need to reschedule?” he asked, the hesitation showing her a crack in his moody demeanor. At least he was coming around on being involved in the day-to-day decisions of renovating a house.
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m here and I’m ready.”
She ended the call and stared at her chocolate dinner. “You’re going to have to wait,” she decided, not wanting to gulp down her cupcake right before she met with him.
Grabbing a banana instead, she ate it and then fluffed her hair and put on some lip gloss and mascara.
She wouldn’t change out of her leggings and tunic, however.
Davina had an early day tomorrow so she planned on staying casual and comfortable tonight. In spite of her rapidly beating heart.
* * *
She invited him in and plopped a huge chocolate cupcake on the counter. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast,” Davina announced. “I’m starving and I’m going to eat this before I go to bed or someone is going to pay.”
Santo actually chuckled and felt something like a jolt of heat moving through his heart. “And hello to you, too.”
“Sorry.” Her green eyes reminded him of a lush tropical forest. “I’ve had a long day and I’m mortified that I completely forgot this meeting. That’s not how I conduct business.”
Santo should have insisted they cancel but he’d been looking forward to this all day long. But obviously, Davina had a lot more on her mind than spending a couple of hours with him. Which should have been okay, only he had to admit he felt a bit disappointed. But he’d get past that because she wasn’t here to sit around with him. She had a lot of work to do yet.
Since he was here now, he carried on. “I’ve had some of the best shrimp fettuccine I’ve ever eaten for dinner,” he said, handing her a warm plate covered with foil. “Miss Virginia is an amazing cook and she insisted I bring this over to you.”
Davina’s eyes lit up, causing yet another aftershock to charge through him. The woman was like an exotic chameleon, ever-changing. Then she said, “Are you going to feed me?”
He liked the way she asked that with a bit of a dare. “Yes, I am,” he said. “Because I’ve had a long day, too, and...I want to make some changes in my life. That’s one reason I wanted to talk to you alone tonight, without any interruptions from my wonderful children or their equally wonderful nanny.”
She eyed him as if he’d turned into a sea monster. “You mean changes such as being on time and being a little more organized? Or maybe being more available?”
“Ouch.” Did he look like a total loser to her? “Yeah, those things and more.” Watching as she sank onto a bar stool and dug into the shrimp dish with gusto, he said, “I guess I need to work on a lot of things.” Then he glanced around the little beach-themed apartment. “At least Miss Virginia got the children to bed on time. She’s a keeper.”
“I’m sorry,” she said between bites. “I shouldn’t have implied you’re not organized and involved with these projects. It’s obvious you’re doing the best you can. And yes, Mrs. Brownlee is a jewel.”
Santo stayed across from her, the kitchen island separating them. He needed a buffer to remind him he’d hired her to help him, not so he could stand here and stare at her. “No, you have every right to be a little put out with me. First, I mistook you for the nanny and shoved one of my screaming children at you and then I left you and the real nanny standing in the middle of my den. And tonight, I didn’t call until it was almost too late to have a business meeting. We could do this some other time.”
“No, no,” she said, waving her hand. “You’re here now and I shouldn’t judge you. I don’t have children but I grew up in a big, crazy family. My mom, bless her, was always running behind. It drove me nuts but now I’m beginning to appreciate her efforts a whole lot more.” She shrugged. “I have four siblings, so growing up, I watched several train wrecks and a whole lot of drama being played out. All my life, I only wanted some peace and quiet and to be my own person. I became a nomad of sorts, just to be by myself.”
“So you don’t get along with your family?”
“We get along,” she explained. “Well, my older brother is also in construction and he resents me a tad but I ignore him. My younger brother is in the army so I don’t get to see him much. But my sisters Tilly and Alana and I are close. We butt heads but we love each other.”
She saw the darkness in his eyes, the searching glance.
“Do you ever get lonely?” he asked, the ache of his own loneliness echoing out around them.
“All the time,” she admitted. “It’s hard being a woman in construction but...I’ve always loved old houses and I want to fix up the one I grew up in one day. It’s a beauty but it’s falling apart. I want to do that for my parents if they’ll allow me. We are a proud clan.” She went on to tell him about her father’s health and struggles. “I want to do what I can to keep them afloat since they’ve supported all of us through thick and thin.”
Santo could see the remorse and the pride in her expression and in her eyes. Her amazing green eyes. “A big family, huh? That explains why you didn’t complain when I threw Nate at you. You’re probably used to that kind of messy morning.”
She smiled at that. A pretty smile that seemed to make this tiny space shrink even more and go at least twenty degrees warmer. “Yes. I’m the middle one. Irish to the core, too. So you can only imagine fighting over the last slice of pizza or who got dibs on my mom’s car on Saturday night.”
“I’m thinking you won in both cases.”
She laughed and dug into the shrimp again. Then she tore off a piece of the chunky French bread he’d included in the meal. “You’d better believe it. Being caught in the middle kept me out of the fray on either side. I got away with a lot.”
Santo relaxed, his face muscles going slack, the constant ache in his neck loosing up the vise grip it had held on him for so long now. Glancing at her cupcake, he said the same thing he’d said about the Peaches-and-Cream cupcake they’d shared a few days ago. “I know where you bought that and I sure hope you’re willing to share it.”
“Let’s go over my plans for the lake house and then we can fight over the cupcake. But I seem to remember I won last time.”
“Can we negotiate?” he asked, realizing he just might be flirting with his house contractor. He’d forgotten how, but this felt dangerously close. Too close. It also felt refreshing and good. Too good. He’d made a vow to never open up his heart to a woman again. Santo had loved his wife but his love couldn’t save their marriage or her. He’d been blinded by ambition and a need to please her, no matter the cost. Why would he want to risk that again? No, he’d go into this with his eyes wide open and his children as his first priority. Why would he put his children through any more trauma?
“Of course we can negotiate,” Davina said, bringing him out of his anxious reevaluation. She opened her battered canvas tool bag and pulled out a notebook. “Everything is negotiable, right?”
“Right.” But Santo decided this woman would be a tough adversary. And she probably always came out a winner. At least she’d keep him on his toes.
“Are you ready?” she asked, a bright glee in her eyes. “Let me show you what I have in mind to make your next home look like the showpiece it’s supposed to be. Once I’m finished, you should be able to move your children into it knowing it’s the best house it can be. I’ll keep the historical integrity while updating the kitchens and baths, and adding charm to the living areas and bedrooms.”
“You sound like those guys on that home network show that my mother used to watch all the time.”
“I’m trying to sell you on the idea, so I practiced that speech.”
“You’re very convincing, so I’m ready,” Santo replied, a new kind of excitement coursing through him. But he wasn’t ready, really. He didn’t have a clue about his old house or his new house or her or why he was so intent on moving. Maybe he wasn’t trying to start a new life for his children. Maybe he was just running from the memories and the guilt associated with the showy, ostentatious house that had only brought him misery.
Chapter Five (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
Davina pulled out the sketches she’d made and then placed the original house plans she’d gotten from the former owner onto the counter. “Can you see?” she asked Santo, well aware of the hint of spice in his aftershave.
“I’ll come around,” he replied.
Both afraid of that and doing a happy dance in her head in spite of her fears, Davina reminded herself that she had to maintain a professional persona or she could very well mess up this project. So she took a calming breath and ran a hand over the plans and the photos she’d taken and printed out.
“This is an interesting house,” she said, her excitement building with each word. “I can’t wait to get started on it.”
“And when will that be?” he asked over her shoulder, the warmth radiating off of him like a welcome wind.
“In a week or so,” she replied. “We’ve done a lot at the bay house since Mrs. Brownlee manages to get the kids out of the house while the construction crew is there.”
“Yes, they’ve been going over to my parents’ place a lot,” he said. “My parents are on a cruise right now, but the kids love it there anyway. And our housekeeper still lives here, so she’s a help with them, too.”
Rikki had told Davina that their parents lived in a big house on the bay not far from Santo’s house. The Alvanetti compound was off the road and secluded and had a large horse stable and pasture attached. A perfect place for kids to play. A place that used to have armed guards, according to the gossip she picked up on here and there.
“Well, I’m glad they have somewhere to hang out after school,” she said. “Anyway, we’re almost done with the floors and the walls have been painted and freshened and the furniture edited down a bit. Rikki and I picked out some lovely rugs and vases from your store earlier this week.”
“You were in the store?” he asked, surprise in his dark eyes. “You should have come back to the warehouse and office. I would have given you a tour.”
“We were in a hurry,” she said. “And I didn’t want to bother you.”
No need to visit the man at work unless she had something really important to discuss with him. Which could happen one day since she’d have a million decisions to make during renovations.
“That can only mean my sister went over budget on whatever she bought, even with the family discount.”
“Because of the family discount,” Davina replied with a grin. “But the bay house is coming along. What do you think about it so far?”
He studied the plans in front of them and then looked up at her with admiration. “You’ve done an amazing job. I couldn’t see it before but you’ve brought out the integrity of the place. Now I know what a mid-century modern is supposed to look like, at least.”
Davina wanted to hug him for complimenting her work. But even more wonderful, he understood what she’d try to accomplish with his swank waterfront property. The big house still had its industrial planes and angles but she’d added color and fire and brightness that brought the outside in and merged the house with the bluffs and the bay beyond.
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” she said. “It should be ready for you to list soon.” She poured him a glass of water and then refilled her glass. Then she named the estimated selling price.
“Wow, that much?”
She laughed at the shock on his face. “Yes, that much. I did a good job.”
“I think you did.” He tapped a finger on the plans. “On to the new house. What do you want to do there?”
She laughed and tugged at her haphazard bun. “So much. A complete overhaul.” When she looked up, he was staring at her with a look akin to awe and longing.
“Santo? Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Uh...yes.” His gaze moved over her face and then settled on her hair. “I’ve just never known a contractor with such beautiful hair.”
A hot blush moved down Davina’s neck. Great. Now she’d get the blotchies, as her sister Tilly always called them. A flush that only showed off her freckles. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
He kept staring at her.
“Santo, the house?”
“Oh, yes, the house,” he said with a wry smile. “I need to focus on the house.”
Frantic now, she searched her notes. What was happening to her, anyway? She never acted like a ninny with clients. But then she’d never had a client who’d commented on her hair in such an intimate way. The room grew warm, the air stifling.
“It’s a lovely house,” she said, regaining her footing while she didn’t make eye contact. “Only one owner for the last fifty years or so and with a big family that’s scattered now. He’s in an assisted living home up in Milton.”
She took a breath and stared at the house plan. “I went and visited with Mr. Floyd so I could get a feel for the place. He told me all about his wife, Katie, and their four boys. Kind of reminded me of my family back in Louisiana. They lovingly took care of the home but no one has lived in it for a couple of years and it needs some updates. The kitchen is quaint but outdated and, of course, the bathrooms need major overhauls.”
He laughed and nodded, his smile radiating even more heat. “Of course.”
Davina had to swallow. Grabbing her water, she gulped it too fast and started coughing.
“Are you okay?” Santo asked, those all-seeing eyes moving over her again.
“Yes.” She hacked another round and prayed the blotchies were gone by now. “Just...not very ladylike.”
He smiled and pointed to her notes. “So I think I’m beginning to see how you operate. You redo the current house to sell and you redo the new house before anyone can move in. You’ve got quite a racket going here, don’t you?”
Seeing the mirth in his eyes, Davina nodded. “Of course. I make money on both ends of the deal. My mama raised me right.”
“Smart.” He leaned close and she became transported to some exotic spot where herbs and spices were rich and sweet and enticing. The man smelled like something unique and fresh and forbidden. An outdoor market, a quiet alfresco café, a moonlit night in some faraway place.
Get over it, Davina.
“So not only are you smart but you’re also pretty and you can outwork any man I’ve ever met. You’re amazing.”
“You haven’t seen the final bill yet,” she quipped, only because she was about to hyperventilate. “Anyway, so we have the first floor. We’ll start with sprucing up the entire outside, of course. Fresh white paint and new shutters in keeping with all of the designs around the lake.”
“Yes, we need to keep up with appearances,” he said.
“Historical features,” she corrected. “You know Lake Street is a prestigious and unique oval road that runs all along the lake.”
“Yes, I know that. That’s why I decided to buy there. The kids love it when we go to Alec Caldwell’s house.”
“Oh, the big Victorian with the turret on top. I love that house. A perfect example of preserving the historical features while bringing a home into this century. Just gorgeous.”
“My sister loves it, too.”
“Alec and Marla are so nice,” Davina said, glad to be on a safe subject. “And I’ve gained five pounds because I seem to go by her café just about every day.”
Santo eyed the chocolate cupcake. “Yes, you do travel with one of those hidden in your big bag at all times, right?”
“Right.”
“Let’s get on with this so I can sample your treat.”
His gaze wasn’t on that cupcake.
He was staring at her lips.
Davina swallowed again but refrained from grabbing her water. “So we have the downstairs master with a lovely sitting area. I know you wanted some office space—”
“You do?”
He looked so surprised, she laughed. “Yes, because your sister told me. Thank goodness she knows what you’d like to happen with this house.”
“I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
“Well, then, she’s making decisions for you. Good ones, though.”
Santo ran a hand through his hair and tugged at it as if he wanted to pull it all out by the roots. “I need to become more involved in this, don’t I?”
Davina motioned to the sofa. “Let’s talk.”
He sat down with her and gave her a helpless glance. “My wife always took care of any repairs or updates on our house. But I didn’t always agree with her taste.”
Having witnessed Rikki’s gaudy taste, Davina could agree with that.
“If you don’t get involved, you can’t complain,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what you want in a new home, Santo?”
He leaned forward and templed his fingers over his knees. “Everyone keeps asking me that,” he said. “They ask me why I’m leaving such a stunning house and that amazing view.”
“And what do you tell them? Or what is it you’re not telling them?”
He kept staring at his hands. “I tell them I’m ready for a change, that the kids need something different and more kid-friendly.”
“That’s all true,” Davina replied. “But I need to know more. I need to know your heart. Because when I renovate a home for someone new to move into, I want to show that family’s heart in everything I do. I don’t know your heart.”
“You don’t want to know my heart,” he said, getting up, his mood dark now. “And me coming here was a bad idea. Just remodel the place and make it livable, Davina. That’s what I’m paying you for.”
Davina couldn’t give up in spite of the glaring warning in his eyes. “What else are you willing to pay for?”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m worried that you’re moving for all the wrong reasons.”
“Do you want me to find another contractor?”
“No,” she said, her determination giving her the courage to face him. “I want this job. I need this job. But I also want to understand you...so I can make you a home that you’ll appreciate and be happy in.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely happy again,” he said, his hands on his hips, his eyes full of a raging torment. “But...I want my children to be happy. I want them to have a tree house and swings and I want them to go fishing on the pier by the lake. I want to take long walks with them and read to them and hold them when they’re afraid. I want to stop their nightmares and show them that we’re going to be all right.”
He halted, his eyes filling with dread and apprehension. “I don’t like talking about this. Just do what you need to do, and leave me out of the details.”
He turned to go.
But she moved in front of him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. But, Santo, what you just told me gives me a whole different perspective.”
“I’m sure it does,” he said, anger coloring the words. “Now you feel pity for me and my poor children, right?”
“No. Not pity. I admire you for what you’re trying to do. Why don’t you cut yourself some slack and become part of the process. There’s healing in renovating things, especially houses. They can tell a story.”
“And what does my current home tell you?”
“That you’re lonely and full of guilt.”
He stood at the door, his head turned toward the wide window that showcased the old live oaks and palm trees and the lake beyond. “I came here thinking I was ready to dive in and help you, put in some physical labor. But I don’t think I can do this, Davina. All I know is my own work and it consumes me because I had to bring my family out of a disaster. I stay busy and I try to get home and spend time with my children. I try to sleep.”
“But you don’t sleep, do you?”
He shook his head and stayed silent.
“You’ve been through something horrific and traumatic,” she said. “I don’t expect you to share all the details with me.”
Whirling, he dropped his arms to his sides. “But you’ve heard the details. It made the national news. The whole world knows what happened to my family, to my children. To my wife and me. No wonder my parents decided to leave the country.”
Then Davina saw it in his eyes. The shame, the despair, the regret, the guilt. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m the one who’s still here. I’m the one who has to protect my children and show them that we have to get on with our lives.”
“And you’re doing that,” she said, moving closer to him. “This house will be sunny and bright and full of joy. I’ll see to that. But Santo, you’ll have to do your part, too.”
He gave her a twisted smirk. “And how do I do that? I’ve been dealing with this for over a year now. The first few months, I was too numb to feel anything. But my children needed me so I had to find a way to keep moving. So what part do I play now? What can I do to make this right again? How can I do anything more?”
“By forgiving your wife,” she replied. “And yourself.”
“Stop it, please,” he replied on a quiet tone. “I didn’t hire you to be my spiritual counselor. Your work is good, Davina. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Okay. I’m sorry I overstepped,” she said, her heart breaking for this man. “I’ve never been through anything like what you’ve had to deal with. I came from a loving, happy, chaotic family but we didn’t have a lot of money. So I’m driven to prove myself and sometimes in my zest to make a house perfect, I ask too many personal questions. It won’t happen again.”
Lifting his head, he almost spoke but stopped himself. After a brief silence that told her exactly how he felt, he said, “I’ll check in with you again soon.”
“Okay. Thank you for the dinner.” She glanced at the cupcake they’d never shared, her stomach roiling in protest, her nerves tangled tighter than electrical cords. “I’ll make sure you get the official reports on both houses.”
“I appreciate that,” he said.
And then he turned and walked out the door.
Davina watched him get into his car and zoom away.
And then she sank down on the couch and started praying.
Dear Lord, help this man to heal. Watch over him and his precious children. And please guide me in renovating this home for them.
Because she knew in her heart that it would take a lot more than hammers and nails to mend this broken family.
Chapter Six (#u31c29930-f7ee-52a7-a161-b38f4bd0531b)
Davina couldn’t get the conversation she’d had with Santo last night out of her mind. Not that she hadn’t stayed busy. She’d finished up the last details on the bay house today and planned to spend most of the afternoon over at the fixer-upper lake house. Since Santo had told her to do what she needed to get the place in order, she had the go-ahead, such as it was. But she’d really hoped he’d change his mind and decide to get more involved in this project. He needed to see the skeleton of the house, test its bones, learn its structure and explore every nook and cranny because that was exactly what his children would do.
How could anyone not want to do that with a house?
Maybe Santo wasn’t wired like her. Tilly and Alana teased her about loving houses more than she loved wanting a home of her own.
Her sisters had a point. Houses were easy to love, easy to shape and mold and change. People, not so much. Davina wasn’t good at building relationships, probably because she’d always been right smack in the middle of her family’s sometimes tempestuous relationships with each other. But no matter now. Santo had made it clear he wasn’t good at that either. Or so he thought.
Since Davina didn’t want that lovely old home to become cold and rigid like the bay house, she’d keep her mind centered on making it spectacular again. Glad she was finished here, she did like how the modern beauty was coming along nicely. But working around the children had been a challenge.
Thinking about Santo’s beautiful children made her smile in spite of the intensity of their words last night. She’d miss these kids once she was done completely. She’d miss this community, too.
“I think I’ll be a carpenter like you when I grow up,” nine-year-old Lucia announced this morning when Davina walked through the door. “It’s a lot of fun. I like hammering things the way you do. And you’re always laughing and smiling.”
The dark-haired beauty with eyes so like her father’s hadn’t witnessed Davina screaming at plumbers or discussing with the tile man why the counters didn’t fit. That was because when the children were around, Davina tried to make the whole reconstruction fun and interesting as long as they stayed clear of any danger. She’d even found each of them bright yellow hard hats to wear. Which earned her points with the kids and Mrs. Brownlee and brought a scowl from their dad.
She wouldn’t tell him she’d also let them hammer some nails into old boards, with both Mrs. Brownlee and herself supervising. Her parents had been protective but also lenient when letting their children explore and learn things. She hoped if she ever had any children, she’d be the same. But watching Santo’s children run around this treacherously beautiful house had brought out all of the maternal instincts she didn’t even know she had.
“This is a fun job,” she told Lucia now with a big grin. “You would be very good at it since you’ve had practice bossing your brother and sister around. And taking care of them,” she added, because Lucia did help with her younger siblings.
“I have to be the boss,” Lucia replied with a stern expression, her eyes growing even bigger. “I’m the oldest and we don’t have a mom anymore.” Then she’d lowered her voice. “She went to heaven.”
Davina squatted and took Lucia’s hand, wishing she hadn’t teased so much. “I know and I’m so sorry about that. You’re a great big sister. And your daddy is so proud of you.”
“He acts mad all the time.”
Davina could vouch for that. Her heart tumbled over itself, seeing the serious concern in Lucia’s eyes. What must this child think about the horrible thing that had happened in her life?
Putting on her best reassuring face, Davina shook her head. “No, no, he’s just got so much to take care of. He works hard so he can provide for all of you. He loves you.”
“He tells us that,” Lucia said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Sometimes I wish he’d just stay home with us. Saturday is supposed to be fun day and this Saturday, there’s a festival on the lake but he won’t remember. Mommy used to say that Daddy only remembered work and nothing else. But I don’t think he forgets on purpose. I wish he’d go with us, though.”
Before Davina could respond to the little anxious girl, her sister, Adriana, ran by and screamed, “Nate’s hiding. And he’s not wearing his hard hat.”
After that, a game of cat and mouse had ensued and soon, Davina and Mrs. Brownlee were both highly involved. They’d found the little boy in the corner of the master bedroom, hiding behind a big rocking chair that Davina had just placed by the locked doors out onto a cedar terrace.
“I like this chair,” Nate said, a finger to his mouth. “Can you rock me?”
Davina looked at Mrs. Brownlee and nodded. “I certainly can.” So while Virginia took the girls to the kitchen for a snack, Davina rocked Nate to sleep, her mind going back and forth with the cadence of the heavy wood hitting the plush carpet.
A girl could get used to that kind of cadence.
The little boy had lifted his head and smiled at her. “Da-danina.”
“Davina,” she’d said, grinning down at him.
Nate shook his head. “Danina.” Then he snuggled closer, burrowing into her arms. And into her heart.
As he drifted off, Davina had whispered close, “Dani. I’m Dani.”
A soft giggle had erupted against her heartbeat.
The sweetness of that moment had stayed with her all day. Now she was finished. The crew would come back and clean things up and do a run-through and then, she’d do a final walk-through with Santo and see if they’d missed anything. Not that he would notice or care.
She’d purposely been late this morning. Yes, she was avoiding him. It was for the best. The man was in a world of hurt and she’d pushed him too far, too soon, last night.
“Mind your own business,” her mother always told her children. They never did, of course. Nor did Ma. Ma was a caring, loving soul who could spot a hurting heart from a mile away, human or animal. She’d be over the moon with these three Alvanetti children and she’d immediately insist they needed a big dog to follow them around.
“Are you really all done?” Mrs. Brownlee asked through a sigh, her hands held together over the apron that stated Free Hugs with Each Cookie.
“I am,” Davina said. “And in record time. This job would normally take at least a month but when you have an unlimited budget, you can get things done pretty quickly. Three weeks for a general overhaul is my personal best now.”
“Yes, you did seem to hurry this into overdrive,” her new friend pointed out, sparkly red earrings warring with her auburn curls. “I take it you and Santo don’t always see eye to eye.”
“He’s tough to read,” Davina replied, glad to be able to have a confidante. “Some walls can’t be torn down because there’s no support beam.”
“He needs to find his faith again,” Mrs. Brownlee said. “And no, you can’t do that for the poor man.” She shrugged and stared out at the water. “We each have to walk our own faith path and it can be fraught with detours.”
Davina gathered her things to leave, wondering about Virginia’s detours. “I’ll arrange the walk-through after the workers have cleaned up. I’ll get together with Santo on that and then we can list the house.”
“I can keep the children occupied for you.”
“Thank you,” Davina said. “I guess they don’t need to see the final version of the house they’re leaving.”
Mrs. Brownlee glanced at the glistening bay beyond the small bluff. “They’re already excited about moving to the lake.” She pointed outside. “That water down there is out of reach for them, but the lake has always been the center of this town. It will do them good to fish in the shallows and ride their bikes along the trails. They’re isolated here in this cold tower. There, they’ll meet friends and have neighbors all around.”
“I hope so,” Davina said, turning to head for the door before Virginia picked up on how much she’d miss the children. She’d just put her hand on it when it flew open and Santo stood there, blocking the light. Stepping back before she got banged, Davina held on to the tidal wave of feelings surging around her.
“You’re home early,” Mrs. Brownlee said, pointing out the obvious.
“Am I?” he asked, his eyes on Davina. “Where are you going?”
“To the lake house to meet with Rikki,” she replied. “I’m done here.”
“So soon?” He glanced at his watch.
“I’ve been telling you for days that I would be finished by the end of the week.” She shrugged. “It’s the end of the week.”
He rubbed his head as if to get answers. “What about the final...look?”
Davina shot Virginia a glance and looked back at him. “The workers have to clean out any debris and tools and then we can do that later. Maybe Monday, after you’re done with work?”
“How about now?”
Davina waffled between telling him yes or no.
“Nate’s asleep,” Mrs. Brownlee said. “And the girls are in the game room watching an animated movie.”
Santo paced a foot or so. “So it’s not a good time?”
“It would be better if we do that on Monday,” Davina said, steeling herself for his reaction.
A curt nod. “Okay, then I’ll walk you to your car.”
Did he want to talk to her?
“All right.” She moved to leave.
“Daddy!”
Lucia rushed up to him and Santo took her into his arms. Adriana followed and soon both girls were giggling into Santo’s ears.
He looked at Davina, a smile cresting on his face. “You two are certainly in a good mood.”
Lucia bobbed her head, her dark curls whirling around her face and shoulders like inky swatches of silk. “That’s ’cause we have the best idea ever.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” Santo asked, still smiling even if his eyes had gone dark again.
“The Millbrook Lake Art Festival,” Lucia said through another giggle. “It’s tomorrow, Daddy. And we want to go. With you and Miss Davina.”
Santo’s grin went slack.
Davina’s heart went bump.
And Virginia Brownlee chuckled and watched the whole scene with a little too much mirth in her eyes.
* * *
“I’ll explain to her later,” Santo said once he’d told Lucia he’d have to consider her request.
“I’ll probably be at the festival anyway,” Davina said. “Vanessa told me about it. Lots of local art and good fresh seafood and the weather’s supposed to be nice.” She hesitated and then went on. “I could take the kids.”
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