Touch Me and Tango (5 page)

“It’s a map.” She glanced at her mother. “Are you saying
this could be…?”

“The steamer trunk.”

“But…”

“Uncle Harry was a target wanted on both sides of the law.
According to my Grandma Tanya—your namesake—he’d planned on using the diamonds
to escape the country and settle elsewhere with Stella. But with the kind of
enemies he had, my guess is he left the map for his sweetheart so she could
find it herself and get away in case anything happened to him.”

“But we can’t be sure this map is his.”

Eva made a tsking sound. “Aside from the fact that this was
Uncle Harry’s house and it came off the back of
his
mirror, it’s his handwriting. I’ve seen it plenty.” She pointed
to a pile of old books they had gathered on the floor. “Check those. He
couldn’t afford books when he was young, so he proudly put his signature in
every one he owned.”

Tanya picked up a 1912 edition of
The Sinking Of The Titanic And Great Sea Disasters
and opened it.
“It’s got one.”

“Compare the handwriting to what’s on the map.”

Sure enough. The script was identical. The same loops over
capital letters. Same slant and hatch-marks. The skeptic within her had to
admit it seemed convincing. “Why didn’t you show me this yesterday?”

“Because you didn’t want to listen. Plus I had second
thoughts about sending my daughter on such a dangerous mission.”

Tanya rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you being a little—”

“There are those who’d kill to get their hands on what
you’re holding.”

“No one ’s going to know.”

“Nonetheless. I’m prepared.”

“Uh-oh. I’m afraid to ask what that means.”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t tell me…”

“I have a gun.”

“Now I’m worried.”

“Nonsense. It’s safely tucked away with my underwear and
socks inside my bedroom dresser.”

“Oh, really? I’ll sleep so much better knowing that.”

Eva waved her off. “So do you believe me now?”

Tanya sat on a wooden crate next to her mother’s chair. “Well,
yeah. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“That is, I mean, sure. I believe it’s real. It’s just that
it’s sort of mind-blowing to think after all this time… “

“Trust me, that trunk is out there waiting for us to
retrieve it.”

“Except this took place at least eighty years ago. How do we
know there isn’t some restaurant sitting on top of where X marks the spot?”

“Look at the map. That’s the coast of the North Fork and the
Long Island Sound. And the island he’s drawn was the one he bought.”

“The Rubikoff Preserve. Then all those crazed treasure
hunters who went digging up the island weren’t that far off?” Tanya had grown
up listening to stories of trespassers invading the small preserve seeking
their fortune, only to be escorted off by security. Either that or arrested. It
all depended on how drunk they were or how badly they trashed the place with
their smelly old beer cans. Throughout those days she’d had trouble seeing any
magic in a weed covered island. In her mind it was just a breeding ground for
snakes and mosquitoes.

“Is this why you never sold the preserve? Because you had a
hunch the treasure might actually be there?”

“No. He’d legally blocked that option way back when. Having
grown up in the city, my Great Uncle Harry had a deep love for wild places.
Besides, I don’t think I could ever live with the guilt of peddling off his
precious sanctuary to some developer.” Eva reached out and touched her
daughter’s arm. “I know you sometimes think your mother’s an idiot. But do you
believe me now? Will you help me find the diamonds?”

Tanya glanced at the map.
Am I about to agree to go searching for hidden treasure
? But
finding it would heal her mother’s heart as well as her pocketbook. “I’ll do
it.”

Eva clapped her hands. “Bravo! We can hash out a plan with
Parker when he comes by later today.”

Parker
. “Uh, he
won’t be coming. I called him to say we wouldn’t be needing his services.”

“You what?”

“I fired him.”

Eva’s voice turned screechy. “Do you honestly think you can
do this alone? Boating to the preserve. Digging up rocky soil. Carrying a huge
trunk. You need Parker.”

“You’re right, Mom. I do need him.”

Interesting choice of
words
. The moment they were out of her mouth Tanya began to wonder what
they really meant.

The dogs made themselves scarce, sensing Parker’s foul mood.
He banged around his greenhouse, shoving heavy barrels here, clay pots there,
hefting fifty-pound bags of lime. The damp April afternoon was so overcast that
the glass windows might as well have been a solid roof. But it matched his gloom.

He’d spent the morning pruning and planting for a client,
but he’d left early. Usually his work calmed him down, even when he ran up
against rock hard soil or an unexpected beetle infestation. But seeing Tanya
yesterday shook him to the core, especially when he realized he was just as
susceptible to her as he’d always been.

Hell, the moment he’d noticed her on the street that same
elation struck him. And that same need. Just like when he used to wait in their
secret places, watching for her, every part of himself drinking in the sight of
her when she arrived. He loved the way her small, fit body moved with such
brisk boldness one moment, languid and sensual the next. He loved that strong,
determined purposefulness she had. Even the dose of selfishness that went with
it. Something about her being that way tickled him.

And aroused him. Last night he tossed in bed obsessing on
her just like before. Already getting tied in knots over when he’d see her
again. Worst of all, he gave in to those old dreams of wanting Tanya to be his.

Well, her phone call this morning canceling his job at her
mother’s house dealt a fatal blow to that fantasy, killing off any illusions he
had about what they might have been to each other. She obviously wanted nothing
to do with him. He got that message loud and clear.

Parker took a few swigs from a bottle of beer that stood on
a long wooden table. His mobile rang. He recognized Mrs. Gentilliano’s number.
Speak of the devil. Was it Tanya? This was the phone she’d called on last time.
Probably afraid to let him see her cell number. Well, she could talk to his
voicemail.

He went back to work, stacking empty flowerpots in a corner.
But after five minutes he could no longer fight his curiosity. Cursing himself
for his weakness, he checked his voicemail.

“Parker, this is Eva Gentilliano. Please call me. It’s
important.”

He tamped down his disappointment, told himself he was
relieved to hear her voice instead of Tanya’s, and hit reply. “What’s up?”

“Listen, I apologize for my daughter. She’s very impulsive.”
(As if he didn’t know that.) “She told me what she did. Firing you. But Tanya
didn’t mean it.”

Right. “It’s okay, Mrs. Gentilliano, I’ve got so much work
these days I really shouldn’t have taken the job in the first place.”

“But I hope you’ll still be able to work for me. I don’t
want anyone else.”

“I’m sorry. I’m all booked up.”

“You’re angry at Tanya. I don’t blame you. But you’ll
understand when you hear all about it.”

“About what?”

“I can’t say. But you’ll keep it a secret, won’t you?”

Parker stifled a quiet laugh. Mrs. Gentilliano had a way of
turning conversations into a muddle, but he couldn’t get impatient with her.
She’d always been so kind to him. Like her daughter, she was a little
self-centered, but not where it counted. He would never forget that out of all
the wealthy folks whose gardens had been tended by his father, Eva Gentilliano
was the only one who had shown up at his funeral. “How can I keep it a secret
if I don’t know what it is?”

“You’ll find out shortly.”

“But you said you can’t tell me.”

“Because we’re on the phone. Anyone could be listening in.”

“So, you’ll tell me in person.”

“Tanya will. She’s on her way to your place now. She seems
to think you won’t want to talk to her. So I’m calling to ask you to give her a
chance.”

He was about to say he didn’t want to see Tanya, and he
certainly didn’t want her coming to his home. But he’d sound like some whining
wuss afraid of a female.

While Mrs. Gentilliano babbled a few more confusing phrases
and signed off, Parker fought against the conflicting emotions churning inside,
assuring himself he was perfectly capable of handling Tanya.

Oh he wanted to handle her, all right. He’d spent the whole
night in bed imagining it. But he knew she’d pull him in and sink him like
quicksand if he got too close.

Parker grabbed his beer and chugged down the remainder,
wishing it were something a lot stronger. For the first time in years he was
sorry he wasn’t living in a normal house, married with kids instead of looking
like some recluse with nobody around but his two dogs.

He walked out of the greenhouse, through his living
quarters, and into the yard, seeing it all through Tanya’s eyes. She’d no doubt
think it was a dump. But it was a home. Well, his kind of home, anyway.

The farmhouse near the front of the property sat neglected,
its leaking roof, rotting walls and ancient plumbing as rundown as the day he
bought it for a song before the vineyards made the area fashionable. Parker had
no use for a big house like that. He lived in what had once been a storage shed
that he’d refurbished and expanded into a bedroom, a main room and a
greenhouse.

His sister Casey was the only one who understood that it was
the five acres of fertile land surrounding it that he’d wanted. He even had a
path through the woods to the bay. She called it “Parker’s Paradise” because
he’d turned every section into some kind of garden. Vegetables. Herbs. Two
perennial beds and one for seasonal annuals. He’d planted hardy shrubs all
over. Azalea, barberry, spiraea. Created a private area enclosed by evergreens.
Young dogwoods edged a rock garden that bloomed with purple, pink and blue
groundcovers in the summer. A lily pond complete with a resident frog.

Plus a stand of lilacs that in another week would scent the
air with their perfume, bringing back a special memory that he still savored in
the private reaches of his heart.

***

Tanya drove along country roads toward the address her
mother had given her for Parker’s house, priming herself for a grand
performance that would induce him to take on their hunt for Uncle Harry’s
steamer trunk. She’d showered, put on makeup, and changed into a short, striped
jersey dress that looked casual, but it hugged her body, showing off her
curves.

She let out a bitter laugh. Flaunting her God-given looks
had always been her method for getting what she wanted. Trouble was, when it
came to Parker Richardson, she was playing with fire. Over a decade ago she’d
used that method on him and started a blaze she didn’t know how to stop.

Turning onto a small dirt road, she maneuvered around
potholes, finally reaching a sagging rattrap of a farmhouse. Was this where
Parker lived? She heard angry, excited barking in the distance. Great. Just
great. She shut off the engine and sat in the car a moment, not exactly eager
to face some attack dog or a hillbilly with a rifle.

Was she in the wrong place? Her mother’s old Mercedes had no
GPS navigation, but she’d followed her directions. The farmhouse looked dark
inside. Windows broken, porch half gone, even part of the roof missing.
Doesn’t anybody around here take care of
their houses anymore
?

When nobody showed up and the barking did not seem to be
coming any closer, she ventured out and gazed around. That’s when Tanya knew
she was in the right place.

Beyond the farmhouse she saw gardens. In fact, everywhere
she looked she saw something growing. Trees with flowering buds and every kind
of bush. White, blue, pink. The yellow forsythia was the only one she could
name. As she got closer she saw patches of flowers in every color. And
vegetable gardens with some kind of stalks she wasn’t sure about. A lily pond.
A rock garden. It seemed to go on forever.

She came to a beautifully made trellis with some kind of
green and pink blooms crawling over its arch. She stepped under it and took a
pebbled path that was bordered by daffodils and tiny blue flowers. She stopped,
turning around herself, taking it all in. The air carried a sweet floral scent.
A breeze prickled her skin and made a soft whoosh in the treetops. Songbirds called
to each other.

Even on this gray and cloudy day the place was nothing short
of heavenly. In fact, the mist made it look like a fairyland. Funny. She’d always
kind of seen Parker as a handsome otherworldly fairytale prince who’d appeared
in her parents’ garden from some magical place. She’d had trouble thinking of
him as part of the real world. He’d certainly never been part of hers.

Just as she thought it, she remembered the night Parker had
asked her to marry him, remembered him telling her he would buy a piece of land
and turn it into a little paradise for the two of them to live on. She still
hated herself for her cruel response. After reminding him that her father would
hit the roof if he found out his daughter was having a romance with the local boy
hired to do their yard work, she’d informed him of the marriage proposal she
had just accepted from her college boyfriend. And told him their affair was
just an escape, a habit they both needed to break.

“Hello, Tanya.” Parker’s voice sparked a surge of heat at
her core. Just as it used to do.

He strolled toward her. She’d never seen him so at ease, so
in his element as here in this floral haven he’d created. A tee shirt clung to
his broad chest, jeans riding low on his narrow hips. His long arms moved
casually as he walked. Tanya found it difficult to look at him without wanting
those arms around her.