Vanni had purchased her home just recently . . . since she’d first met him.
Why had he done it?
“Yep, that’s the guy. Montand cars are some of the best engineered in the world,” Mort was saying. “Montand inherited the company from his father, although he started his own company here in Deerfield. From what I understand, it’s even more lucrative than his luxury car business. He got his father’s brains not only for business, but engineering. Michael Senior could put an engine back together blindfolded and come up with revolutionary mechanical advances in his sleep. I understand his son is even more of a mechanical genius.”
“You say it like you knew Michael Montand Senior,” Emma said, curiosity making her find her voice.
“I did, a little,” Mort said, glancing up at her with sharp blue eyes. “We were both members of the local Lions Club. Montand didn’t come around that much—I imagine he joined to be polite when someone asked him. But I met him a few times. Knew of his reputation and business. Knew about his son, too,” Mort said dryly.
“What do you know about the son?” Emma asked, her pulse beginning to leap at her throat.
“Just rumors, mostly, although I did have a few real-life run-ins with him when he was a teenager,” Mort said in his easygoing manner as he shut down his computer and closed the lid.
“You’ve actually met him?” Emma asked.
Mort nodded. “I’d just become the sheriff here in Cedar Bluff when Montand Junior was finishing high school. He tested the police staff of a few towns along the North Shore when he was young.”
“He was wild, huh?” Jamie asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
“He was troubled, that much is certain,” Mort said reflectively, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “His dad and his stepmom had their hands full with him. Some of these rich North Shore kids are spoiled rotten, but Montand had more reasons than some for dabbling in juvenile delinquency, I suppose. He never struck me as a bad kid, just mad at the world. He lost his mother really young, from what I understand, and never got along well with his stepmother.”
“He lost a twin brother, too,” Emma said quietly. Jamie looked over at her in surprise. “I’m familiar with him through a patient,” Emma sidestepped.
Mort nodded thoughtfully. “A twin brother, huh? Well, that makes sense. We brought Montand in one night for underage drinking and getting in a fight with some South Side jerk who boxed part-time. Montand was only sixteen or so at the time. The guy he was fighting was a monster and years older than Montand, but Montand had held his own. In fact, he’d gone ballistic on the guy in the parking lot of some Cedar Bluff dive that’s not open anymore.” Mort shook his head in memory. “That kid had a death wish. He like was a lit firecracker, burning at both ends and inside out to boot. Once he cooled down, though, he was nice enough. He even fixed our busted police radio for us before his dad came in to post bail.” Mort shook his head distractedly. “A twin brother, huh?” he repeated. “I’d never heard anyone say that. I did hear he married young to a girl he met in college. Montand Senior was dead set against the relationship, and was furious when his son brought the girl home and presented her as his wife. Senior tried to get the marriage annulled, but Junior was having none of it. At least that was what the gossip was. And then he lost her, too.”
“What?” Emma asked, praying she’d misunderstood the last detail of Mort’s rambling reflection.
“Yeah,” Mort said, meeting her gaze and nodding sadly. “I don’t remember what the wife died of, but I think she was sickly from the get-go. They couldn’t have been married for much more than a year before she got ill, and then she was gone by the time their graduation date arrived.”
His words pounded in Emma’s stunned brain with the pulse of her blood. “Just goes to show you, I guess. Someone might look at Montand and think he’s got it all—money, good looks, success, glamorous businesses and yet—”
“It’s like life is playing some kind of sick joke on him,” Emma finished dully, recalling Vanni saying similar words that night on Lookout Beach when they’d differed on the topic of death.
“Yeah,” Mort said, taking a sip of coffee. “There’s no fortune big enough that could ever tempt me into that young man’s shoes.”
“Amen,” Jamie agreed fervently.
Mort blinked, seeming to come to himself. He gave his daughter a fond glance and patted her hand that sat on the table. “It was just a much too spicy cheeseburger,” he reassured her under his breath. Jamie grinned up at him wryly and Mort winked.
“So that’s the man who now owns your apartment complex, Emma,” Mort said, dropping his hand. “I hadn’t heard he’d ventured into real estate, but with money like his, I suppose it’s smart to diversify. I’m glad he’s taken care of things so quickly at your place. That bodes well. Maybe Montand has overcome all his adversities and become a decent man. I’d like to think so, anyway. I’ve heard good things about his business dealings. And I liked him as a kid.”
“Emma?” Jamie asked, a strange expression on her face. She set down her cup and placed her hand on top of Emma’s frozen one where it rested on the table. “Are you okay? That glow I was talking about earlier seems to have made a run for it. Your fingers are freezing,” she said, concern etching her face as she chafed Emma’s hand with her own.
Emma forced a smile. “I’m fine,” she lied. “It’s just the air-conditioning.” She squeezed her friend’s hand to reassure her and changed the subject to a safer one. In her head, however, she never left the topic of what Mort had revealed about Vanni. Her attention kept going back to it like it would a sharp wound.
* * *
That afternoon when she got home, she received a call from Dr. Parodas’s office. Neil Parodas himself was on the other line, calling to give her the test results from Vanni’s and her exam. He gave the information in such a friendly, amiable manner, it was difficult to be uncomfortable about his knowing the reason for the tests. He proclaimed both of them to be in excellent health. She hung up the phone and stood in her empty kitchen.
Another barrier of intimacy between Vanni and her had been removed. She’d agreed to have sex with him without protection.
She recalled what Mort had told her today about Vanni’s young wife dying. Surely the sympathetic pain she experienced at the information was beyond what it should have been, given how long she’d known him . . . given their agreement? It worried her, that sharp ache when she considered his suffering. His loneliness.
She stared out the window over her kitchen sink and also remembered the other shocking information Mort had given her. Vanni was the one responsible for making sure every item on her punch list was completed with the highest efficiency. He owned her home. He didn’t own her, though. Not if she could help it.
Surely she was a fool for not grasping at every little tidbit of protection she could get in this affair with Vanni Montand?
Chapter Twenty-three