Fear Of Falling. Catherine Lanigan
near the French doors to the terrace.
Olivia excused herself and carried the silver coffeepot and tray with cream and sugar over to them. “Would you like more coffee?” Olivia asked. “This is decaf, but I can get regular, Mr. Crenshaw. Gabe said you had to drive back.”
“I’m not at all tired.” Sam smiled. “The decaf is just fine.” He held out his cup and saucer for Olivia. “How have you been, Olivia?”
“Very well, sir. Especially now that spring is here. I can’t wait to get out to the lake.”
Gina looked from Sam to Olivia. “Why the lake?”
Sam touched Gina’s arm affectionately and allowed his hand to remain there, his thumb gently stroking her sleeve. It was a subtle gesture, but a telling one. What was going on between Sam and Gina? And did she want to know?
Sam followed Olivia’s gaze and he immediately withdrew his hand. He rushed to speak. “Olivia is a wonderful photographer. You should see her work sometime. And she and Liz are on a rowing team together. Isn’t that right, Olivia?”
Olivia’s eyes tracked back to Gina, who was waiting patiently for an answer to her question. “Uh, yes. Exactly. Sarah, Maddie, Liz, Isabelle and I have been sculling for years. We can hardly stand these long winters, waiting for the ice to melt. Although, I have to admit to spending a lot of time out there taking pictures in the past few months. Did either of you see the frozen fog? I’d never experienced that before. I had a one-hour window to capture it before the sun melted those fuzzy stalactites. They formed on everything—bushes, tree branches. My shots were amazing.” Olivia’s voice held more energy and excitement than she’d anticipated. That happened whenever she talked about her photography. Adrenaline surged through her. She would have been perfectly happy to put down the pot and tray, sit and talk to them till dawn about the photos she took—those visions of nature she’d seen while combing the edges of the winter lake. Bass swimming under thick, frosted plates of ice. She’d zoomed in on a squirrel burying nuts from the walnut trees around the Pine Tree Lodges. She had taken over two hundred shots of beavers building a dam, cutting wood with their razor-sharp teeth and flapping their flat tails in the canal that connected Lily Lake and Indian Lake. She had photos that showed geese against the full moon, lavender ribbons of dawn rippling over the chunks of icy lake water and a clouded winter sun struggling to make its presence known through a snowstorm.
But Olivia’s favorite subjects were animals. They were sweet souls that did not betray or bully unless they were hungry and on the prowl for food. That was the circle of life. That was survival. She understood that. Animals were peace and danger, calm and destruction, and they fascinated her. She strove to capture their essence in photographs though she knew it would be a lifelong, elusive effort.
She blinked, realizing Sam and Gina were staring at her strangely. “Um, anyway. I guess Liz won’t be doing much rowing this spring.”
“Don’t count her out. She told me that as soon as the doctor tells her she’s fit after the baby comes, she’ll be out there at the crack of dawn with you girls,” Sam said.
“I’m looking forward to that. You must be so excited about the baby.”
“We are!” Gina and Sam exclaimed in unison. They looked at each other and laughed.
Then just as suddenly, the smile on Gina’s face disappeared.
Olivia thought she knew why. “I’m sure Mr. Barzonni was looking forward to his first grandchild.”
Gina cleared her throat and rose. “I see you need more cream,” she said in flat, commanding tones that told Olivia not to object. “Let me help you.”
Gina took the little tray of sugar and creamer and headed for the kitchen. Sam’s eyes were glued to her. He shook himself then turned to Olivia with a crestfallen expression.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him.
Olivia found Gina with a carton of heavy cream in one hand, holding the refrigerator door open with the other.
“I’ll do it,” Olivia offered.
“Angelo didn’t sanction Gabe’s marriage to Liz, which you probably already know,” Gina began, handing her the carton. “You and your friends are all very close, aren’t you?”
“Like sisters. Closer maybe.” She shrugged. “I’m an only child, so I don’t actually know what it’s like to have siblings. My mom was always my best friend.”
Gina lifted her chin. “That’s how it is with Gabe and me. Best friends. Probably because he’s the oldest. I was thrilled about the baby. But Angelo—he carried his resentments around with him like the wallet in his back pocket. Always at hand. He was an unforgiving man in many ways.”
“But you loved him.”
“Oh, yes. That’s true. But I believe there are many kinds of love. Not all people are lucky enough to find true love. You know? Gabe and Liz. They have that. Maddie and Nate do, too. I can see the difference now that my sons are so happy.”
So that was it. The sparks that danced between Gina and Sam were romantic ones. Yet she was clearly grieving her husband deeply. Olivia had catered enough funerals to last a lifetime. She’d seen bizarre, out-of-character behavior at funerals that rivaled most reality shows. Death skewed human psyches like no other crisis.
She considered the cream. “Didn’t Mr. Crenshaw have a heart attack last fall?”
“He did,” Gina replied quietly. “It was a frightening time for Liz, as you must know.”
Olivia stepped around Gina and eased the refrigerator door wide-open. “Then maybe we should give him the fat-free half-and-half I saw in here earlier.”
Gina tilted her head and studied Olivia. “You’re observant. And thoughtful. Thank you for thinking of him like that.”
Olivia handed the cream to Gina. “He’s always meant the world to Liz. He’s a lovable man.”
“He is,” Gina replied, taking out a second cream pitcher. She glanced up at the digital clock on the microwave. “You’re about done here. Everything is cleaned up. I’ll write your check.”
“It’s okay. You can mail it.”
Gina smiled. “Would you mind doing me one last favor before you go, Olivia?”
“Not at all.” Olivia smiled. “Anything.”
Gina turned to the stove and picked up a foil-covered dinner plate. “I put this aside for Curt, but he didn’t have time to come up for supper.” Gina slipped a dish towel under the bottom of the plate.
“Curt?”
“Our horse trainer. He’s still down at the stables, and I don’t want him to leave without something to eat,” Gina said with a little shake to her head as she held the plate out to Olivia.
Olivia gulped back a lump of fear. Her eyes tracked over to the window, where she could see the lights still shining in the stable.
Olivia took the plate from Gina, hoping her hands wouldn’t shake the roast beef right off. She bit her lip; maybe physical pain would jolt her out of the memory of her father shoving wads of bills at the betting-cage teller.
“Just follow the paved bricks down there. I see that Rafe turned on the walk lights. I’d do it myself, but I—”
Olivia interrupted. “It’s no bother. Honestly, I’m happy to help.” She forced a smile.
“Oh, and when you’re down there, give a pet to my Pegasus for me, will you?” Gina put her hand to her cheek. “Silly of me. You’re not afraid of horses, are you?”
“Horses?” No, she wasn’t afraid of the most gorgeous creatures on earth. In fact, she adored them and had loved them all her life. It was the gambling they represented that she abhorred. “I like horses. They’re