A Mom for Matthew. Roz Fox Denny

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СКАЧАТЬ And no, I don’t think I am. What’s this about if not to buy me off?”

      “Grace, my boss asked me to try and negotiate an amicable agreement for us both. Pace Kemper is a reasonable man who happens to believe it’s more conducive to talk business over a nice meal.”

      As if on cue, the waiter appeared and began to slide a variety of steaming, aromatic dishes between Zeke and Grace. Zeke grabbed up the permits moments before a plate of ravioli would have landed on top of them.

      “May I bring you anything else?” the waiter asked, efficiently removing their salad plates as he topped up their barely touched wineglasses. “Is the wine to your liking, sir?”

      “What?” Zeke tore his eyes from Grace. “Oh, it’s great.” He took a healthy swig.

      Grace could only gape at the amount of food. Zeke was the one to ask belatedly for grated Parmesan on the spaghetti and the lasagna. “This all looks so fantastic. I hope you have a big family, Zeke. I doubt we’ll make much of a dent. I foresee most of this going home with you.” She dished up generous servings to her plate from each platter. Yes, she acknowledged, she was fishing as to who this handsome man had waiting for him at home. Grace told herself it was mere curiosity and a way to steer him off business talk for a while. She so rarely went out to dinner with someone else picking up the tab, and Grace wanted to relax and enjoy tonight’s experience.

      She was a teacher in an elementary school where most of her co-workers were also female, so eating out was always Dutch treat. At one time she’d begun dating a science teacher she’d met on a district project; later she’d discovered that he had lied and was married. Deception hurt. She hadn’t recovered from it yet.

      Zeke avoided her bait. He didn’t respond and made no apology for it. But it pleased him immensely to see her tuck into her food. Eating kept them both occupied for a while. Until Zeke glanced across the table and said, “Based on your setup, I take it salvage isn’t what you do for a living.”

      Grace shook her head. “I’m a first-grade teacher. In San Antonio. That’s how I could take on this project. It’s summer break. I don’t need to be back in school until the day after Labor Day.”

      “A teacher?” That jolted Zeke. He took another swig of wine. “So, what’s your experience with undersea salvage? It can be dangerous, you know.”

      “This bay isn’t all that deep. And I happen to believe a person can learn any skill through reading up on it. Libraries are a great source for how-to books, Zeke. I bought used but serviceable equipment. I know what I’m doing.”

      “That damned boat is a piece of junk.”

      “Well…” Grace turned her eyes away. “I didn’t get realistic figures on boat rentals in this area. It seems the costs I was given pertain to out of season boats—when the shrimp aren’t running. But Jorge is confident his boat will suffice for my needs.”

      Zeke rolled his eyes.

      “Worried about my welfare?” she asked with a hint of challenge.

      “Nope. I’m calculating the added cost to Kemper if Jorge’s damned boat sinks over where we have to dig our well. I didn’t factor in clearing the bay of debris.”

      “You’re all heart, Rossetti.” Grace reached for the tortellini plate to take a second helping, but Zeke shot out a hand. They both pulled back fast, as though shocked by the brush of callused palm against soft flesh.

      “Oh,” she exclaimed, her hand hovering above the table. “Am I being piggish? I told you I had a big appetite.”

      “Nothing close to that. Eat all you want. I just wanted to mention that they serve homemade spumoni ice cream for dessert here. I always save room for a dishful with my coffee.”

      Grace gazed longingly at the tortellini, but she sat back. “In case you can’t tell, I’m torn. I’ve never tasted homemade spumoni ice cream. I can’t pass up trying something new.”

      “Are you a runner?”

      “Me?” Grace laughed. “I’m the least athletic person I know. I swim and scuba dive because I grew up outside Corpus and there wasn’t much else to do for entertainment when I was a kid. What made you think I run?”

      “Because you eat hearty and you’re no bigger than a minute,” Zeke blurted. Then he promptly shuffled in his seat, clearly discomfited.

      “I told you about my metabolism? Well, according to Grandmother, speedy metabolism runs in my grandfather’s family. I think my mom passed it to me.”

      “You think? It sounds as if you aren’t sure. Is your mom skinny or not?”

      It was Grace’s turn to fidget. “Hey, no fair. Discussing your background is off limits, but suddenly mine’s a hot topic?”

      “Excuse me,” Zeke said stiffly. Straightening, he signaled their waiter who’d just served drinks to another table.

      Grace wished she hadn’t sounded so snappish. Being virtually abandoned by her mother was still a touchy issue, even though she’d had a lifetime to get used to the idea and get over it. If she’d opened up, maybe Zeke Rossetti would’ve lightened up.

      The waiter veered toward their table.

      “We decided to have spumoni and coffee,” Zeke said. “Unless Grace wants to keep the tortellini, in case the ice cream doesn’t fill her up. You can box the rest.”

      “Dessert will be more than enough for me.” She pushed away the tortellini.

      “Shall I make that regular coffee for both?” the waiter inquired as he cleared their dishes.

      “I’d better pass on regular,” Grace lamented. “Diving exacts a toll. I need to get a full eight hours sleep. So decaf for me.”

      “I run on high octane,” Zeke admitted. He figured it’d be another sleepless night, even though his mother had said Matt was pulling at his ears less, so the medicine must be working. The pediatrician had scolded Zeke for staying up nights to rock his son, especially once Matt started antibiotics for his frequent ear infections. Zeke tended to pay little attention to the advice. The doctor had never experienced pain in a dark and silent world as Matt did. If Zeke’s sleeping in a chair, holding the boy against his chest, gave his son a measure of comfort, then no matter how exhausted Zeke felt the next day he wasn’t going to deprive his child.

      “You’ve got that closed, forbidding look again,” Grace said after the waiter had scurried off with their order. “Are you plotting new ways to shut down my operation?”

      Zeke emerged from his private thoughts. “It’s not up to me. It’s up to Pace Kemper and his lawyers to find loopholes in your paperwork. I can’t force you to leave the bay.”

      “But you’d like to.”

      “Of course. I won’t lie. My team has everything in place to start moving in a well undercarriage. You represent one damned headache after another. I’ll have to dicker with a hostile barge company, a disgruntled pipefitters’ union, to say nothing of listening to my crew bellyache over lost time.”

      “So, go farther СКАЧАТЬ