The Daughter Dilemma

“I assume we’re the ones picking you up.”

Kari nodded. “If your brother has forgiven both of us by then. Tuesday. Nine o’clock. Sharp.”

They both laughed at her attempt to mimic Nick D’Angelo’s inflexible instructions. “Oh, he’ll rant and rave for a while,” Addy told her. “But he’ll come around eventually. He doesn’t hold grudges.”

“I’ll count on you, then,” Kari said. She glanced out the left side of the helicopter to see ominous dark clouds rolling over and around the mountain range like boiling ocean waves crashing around a ship.

It occurred to her that she should have checked the weather report for the area. But as usual, she’d been running late. “Should we be concerned about those clouds?”

“There’s rain behind them. The weather service didn’t indicate the storm was moving so fast.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. But it might make the flight a little bumpy. We can withstand forty knots easily. I should have checked one last time before we left,” Addy admitted. “Hold on a minute.”

Addy pressed a switch on her cyclic stick, which allowed her to radio the nearest airport. Through her headset Kari could hear the low response between ground control and pilot. The news that a storm was quickly coming over the Front Range gave Kari an unpleasant moment, but Addy didn’t seem overly concerned.

In another few minutes rain started to hit the windscreen in a steady pattern, and Kari could feel the wind begin to buffet the aircraft. Addy turned on the overhead cabin light. She made corrections on the controls constantly, seeming to know how to react to the slightest shift in their position. It wasn’t until they started to see lightning in the clouds that she looked at all worried.

Kari glanced at the numerous dials spread across the cockpit console, but in spite of all the traveling she did, she didn’t know that much about helicopters or how they operated. Nothing looked like a radar screen, or anything that remotely seemed as if it could pinpoint their location.

She gave Addy a hopeful smile. “I suppose you have radar or something to tell you where we are exactly? Just in case.”

Addy shook her head. “Sorry. We rely on V.F.R.”

“V.F.R.?”

“Visual Flight References.” She pointed downward and smiled. “We check out the ground and see what looks familiar.” Kari’s reaction to that comment made the woman laugh. She added, “Don’t worry, we won’t get lost. I know every light on the mountain.”

But suppose she couldn’t see them because of the rain?

“Why don’t we head back?” Kari suggested. “If it’s raining this hard, I won’t be able to set up camp anyway.”

“We could set down and try to wait it out.”

Just then lightning strobed the sky, flashing eerily into the cabin. When the thunderclap followed it, Addy muttered a curse as Kari clutched the side of her seat. She said nothing, her mouth suddenly too dry to utter words. She should never have pushed for this. Never have taken advantage of this woman.

After a few moments Addy said, “It’s probably better if we do turn back. I’m sorry, Kari.”

“No, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have been so insistent.”

The woman swung the helicopter in a sharp turn. How dark it was outside, Kari thought. In spite of the landing lights cutting through the night, there seemed to be nothing beyond the front windscreen. Not a flicker of light anywhere.

Except for the lightning that glimmered sullenly within the clouds.

CHAPTER THREE

WITH THE FLICK of a finger on his control box, Sam D’Angelo moved his wheelchair out of his son’s way.

They were in one of the lodge’s downstairs suites, Nick’s and granddaughter Tessa’s temporary lodgings until their cabin was habitable again. The plumbing crisis had been dealt with—at least to Nick’s satisfaction—but Sam, who had once handled these kinds of little emergencies, couldn’t help feeling the need to make sure.

“You turned off all the valves in Number Ten?” he asked for the second time. “Just to be safe.”

He hated that he couldn’t get up the stairs in his own home, his own business. When he’d come back from the hospital, he should have insisted that they put in an elevator. He could have seen the damage upstairs for himself.

Nick was bent over the sink, washing his hands to remove the grease he’d encountered from taking a look at Rosa’s stove. “I did, Pop,” he said without turning around. “Tom Faraday’s on his way. I think a crack in the tank is the culprit, but he’ll be able to tell us for sure. Stop worrying.”

“You know what water can do to wood when it seeps through tiny crevices?”

Nick straightened, wiping his hands dry. “Gosh, no,” he said with a grin. “Not since the last time you put me through Plumbing 101 class.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Your mother is right. You are becoming a very disrespectful son.”

“And you’re turning into a bigger worrier than she is.”

Sam gave him a severe look.

Nick grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled it over his head, then slipped on a fresh white T-shirt. From his wheelchair, Sam watched in silent admiration. Nick had inherited Sam’s build. His torso was tanned, broad and powerful. A man’s chest, the way a man’s chest should be. The way Sam’s had once been years ago.

He couldn’t help it, a little twist of envy jolted through him. Bad enough that age took its revenge so soon. That sickness could whittle you down until there was almost nothing left of the person you had been. Sam had cheated death. It had whispered in his ear, but he had refused to listen. He had lived, and for that, he thanked God. But he was only fifty-eight. He missed that lost energy, that effortless strength. He wondered if his son understood how lucky he was to have it.

Nick went to the closet, pulled out his sneakers and sat on the bed. He was halfway through knotting one shoe when the lace popped.

He held the broken piece in front of him, shaking his head. “Perfect,” he said. “Just perfect.”

Toeing off the sneaker, he kicked them both out of the way and went to the closet to root around for another pair. “I’m telling you,” he said as he scooped up his hiking boots. “I don’t care if a whole family of skunks have taken up residence in the cabin. Tomorrow, Tessa and I are moving back in.”

Sam cocked his head. “Why are you in such a black mood?”

“I’m not in a black mood. Brown, maybe. You wouldn’t believe—”

He broke off as they both became aware that Tessa stood in the open doorway. Sam’s granddaughter was a beauty even at fourteen. Glossy black hair like Rosa’s had been when he’d first met her. And the eyes—like dark fire. Unfortunately the fire lately had all been directed at Nick. Even now, as she addressed her father, her eyes were smoldering.

“Nonna Rosa said to tell you that we’re all eating sandwiches tonight ’cause of the stove. Everything else is for guests. She also says the kitchen is closing early and don’t either of you touch the zabiglione in the fridge.”

“Donnaccia! We live under the rule of a petty tyrant,” Sam said dramatically, hoping to get a reaction out of the girl. Tessa was his pet, his favorite companion. Surely he could make her smile.

The child had no time for him. Tight lips declared her grievances against her father. She lowered her head, setting her chin. “Can I eat dinner in my room?” she asked Nick.

“I suppose.” Nick pulled on one hiking boot. “Still mad about the dress, huh?”

Now his darling grandchild’s eyes shot daggers. “I took it back like you told me. That doesn’t mean I think it’s fair.”

“Tessa…”

The girl flung herself away from the door and disappeared.

Nick sighed and looked at his father. “If I’m in a mood, would you really wonder why?”