Chapter 19
FRANKIE
“We have a problem.”
Charlie’s voice trembles slightly when she says it. She’s still at Dad’s house with Livvie. I called right after my latest shift in the tasting room to check in, and now I’m sitting in the swivel chair by the window in my bedroom, a pair of sweatpants waiting for me on the bed.
“Do I want to know?” I ask. I get the feeling I’m about to hear something a lot more serious than whatever gossip kept them up all night. Whenever my sister loses the lightness in her voice, I know something is up.
“Dad didn’t come home last night. I’ve been calling and texting him for hours with no response. Have you heard from him?”
“No. But that’s not unusual, Char.”
She’s right to be worried, though. Our dad is shady as fuck, but he’s a homebody.
No matter what kind of trouble he gets up to, he always comes home, parks himself in front of the TV, and does the tango with a twelve-pack and a liter.
Growing up, I can barely remember a time when he wasn’t passed out on the couch by ten p.m.
“It’s weird,” Charlie goes on. “I heard him leave late yesterday like he was in a hurry, kicking up gravel and revving the engine. He never said anything about where he was going.”
My chest squeezes. “Did you check his office? Anything missing?”
“Not that I could tell. His desk calendar is there with nothing written on it. Desk is locked up, though I wouldn’t know what to look for anyway. You know how Dad is.”
“Yeah.” Secretive. Conniving. Often paranoid.
As it turns out, probably for good reasons.
Letting out a breath, I put the phone on speaker and tap out a text to Donovan, asking him if he can drive me around for a few hours. “What does Livvie think?”
“I haven’t told her anything yet. I don’t want her to worry.”
“Good. Listen, I’m gonna cruise around. Hit up his usual spots. Racetracks, bars, maybe some nightclubs. See if I can find him, ask around in case anyone’s heard anything.”
There’s a pause and then Charlie’s voice drops low, measured, as if she doesn’t want to be overhead. “Do you think it’s a good idea for you to go poking around alone?”
Fair point. A lot of the places our dad likes to hang out wouldn’t be safe for an MMA fighter, much less a woman alone. “I won’t be alone,” I tell her. “I’ll have Donovan with me.”
“You mean…Dante’s spy who acts as your chauffeur?”
“Yeah. That’s the one. He’s really very sweet, though,” I insist.
Charlie pauses again and I can virtually hear the wheels turning in her mind. “Fine, but make sure you turn your location on in HeyYou so I can see where you are, just in case.”
Sometimes the three of us use this app called HeyYou to send silly pictures and short videos back and forth, though Charlie and I are too busy to use it much and Livvie runs circles around us with it.
It has a setting that allows you to choose which friends can see your location.
I usually keep it on for my sisters, and they do the same for me. Like Charlie said, just in case.
I check the app. “It’s on. Talk to you soon. Call me if you hear from him. Love you.”
“Love you.”
After we hang up, I call Donovan and ask him to bring the car around to the front door.
It’s almost two, and I’m still dressed for work in a crisp suit—which doesn’t seem like the best choice for poking around my dad’s stomping grounds.
I quickly change into black skinny jeans, a plain tee shirt, and sneakers, and twist my hair into a braid.
Then I grab a notepad and pen and rush downstairs and out the door.
When I slide into the car, I don’t miss the curious look Donovan gives me.
“Change of plans today. I need you to take me to the racetrack. And some other places.”
He grins. “I’d love nothing more, Mrs. Bellanti.”
Anxiety grips me, and while I appreciate the light teasing in his words, I just want to get going. “Great, then let’s go.” I wait until he’s situated in the front seat, then lean forward and check out the list I’m furiously scribbling. “Breezeway racetrack first, then Sonoma.”
He puts the car into drive. “Feeling lucky today?”
Don’t I wish.
The track is only marginally occupied, most people at the bar having a drink and something to eat.
The race schedule is light considering it’s a weekday.
Not my father’s normal time to be here. He prefers the bigger races, the rowdier crowds, so he has an excuse to drink more.
Knowing it’s likely futile, I scour the restaurant, the bar, and the stands.
The barns are nearly empty, as is every other place he might be in the damned complex.
Before I leave, I give my dad’s cell a call. I hear one ring before I get sent to voicemail. My hairline tingles. Either his phone has been shut off or it’s dead.
Frustrated, though not surprised, I leave and have Donovan take me to my father’s second favorite racetrack in Sonoma.
There’s not a lot going on, save for the usual suspects bellied up to the bar.
After checking all the places I can think of, I return to the car and we hit the strip of bars and nightclubs my father likes to frequent.
But most of his favorite haunts aren’t open this early in the day.
The ones that are offer a handful of people who claim to know nothing.
I skip out of each establishment as quick as I can, not wanting to push my luck on this side of town.
Back at the Abbott compound, I go directly to my father’s shambles of an office.
Looking for anything that could tell me who the car tamperer was, or where my dad might be, I begin a divide and conquer of every drawer and cabinet I can get into.
Some of the desk drawers are locked and I’m tempted to break into them, but I think about the repercussions if, when, my dad suddenly shows up again.
Knowing him, he’s probably just sleeping it off on some random woman’s couch and he’ll stumble in when he’s sober enough.
I tell myself this, but my heart doesn’t believe it.
“Hey.” Charlie’s voice startles me. She’s standing in the doorway, holding a tray of tea and cookies. “I’ve already been through all of this. Did you find anything?”
The bite of frustrated tears irritates my eyes. “Nada. Not a damn thing. No one has seen him, he’s not at the track, and there’s nothing here but an empty calendar, a bunch of overdue bills, and a pile of empty beer cans under his desk.”
Our eyes meet and the depth of my concern is mirrored back at me by my sister. She tilts her head. “Come on. Let’s have a drink on the balcony. Best view in the whole joint.”
And it is. I cross the room and open the doors to the balcony, and we step out into the sun. It’s warm and everything is golden and bright. Livvie is riding in the paddock, blonde ponytail bouncing in time with the horse’s hoofbeats.
Charlie sets the tray on a metal bistro table and pours the tea for us.
Hugging myself, I soak up the sun while taking in what a dilapidated, sad mess the winery’s grounds are.
The paddock where Livvie rides is surrounded by a fence that’s sagging and crooked.
The back of the barns are visible from here, the wood terribly aged, peeling and broken in many places.
Nothing is tended. Everything is overgrown.
It’s the perfect picture of neglect, and it hurts to see it.
Charlie hands me a steaming cup. “A couple contacted me the other day about having their wedding here.”
I arch a brow. “Really?”
She makes a face. “Yup. They’d heard about the fabulous grounds and thought it would be wonderful to get married at a historic winery like this one.”
“Oh dear. So what happened?”
She takes a small sip. “They took one look at the place in person and very quickly backed out. I don’t think they were even here for ten minutes. Not that I blame them.”
We both sigh. This scenario is easy to imagine. I mean, just look at this place. It’s literally falling apart. The buildings are historic, but they’re about to be old piles of wood and brick if something doesn’t turn around.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know what it would mean for your wedding planning business if you could use this place as a venue.”
“Yeah. It’d be great to actually get to do some work. Oh well.”
She shrugs and sips her tea while leaning over the balcony railing.
I move next to her and we look down below at Livvie on her huge black horse.
He’s moving around the ring with a high step trot while our little sister sits tall in the saddle, her back straight, arms up and out as she holds the reins.
I can almost read the guilt that I know is playing through Charlie’s head right now.
She’d love this place to be fabulous for our little sister.
The barns returned to their glory, the grounds perfectly manicured and tended.
Hell, I’d settle with functional. A barn that Livvie wouldn’t have to try to fix herself in order to keep her horses comfortable.
A house with appliances that work and floors that don’t bow and flex when you walk across them.
Smiling at Livvie, Charlie says, “I guess the Abbott sisters just get better with every version that comes out, right? Maybe if you and I work hard enough, she’ll get to have a happy ending of her own someday.”
“That’s not fair to you, Char. You had to be a mom for all of us when ours walked out. You never had time for yourself or your own dreams. Mom and Dad failed us. You didn’t.”
I finish my drink, wishing there were something stronger in it than raspberry tea. Charlie’s got that far-off look on her face. It’s her standard expression when she’s mentally beating herself up.
I lean my head on her shoulder. She smells like subtle citrusy perfume and fresh laundry. “Hey,” I say. “In my eyes, you were the best big sister anyone could ask for.”
She smiles and the teacup shakes slightly in her hand. There’s a beat of silence as we watch Livvie slow the horse to a walk.
“We’re going to try for a baby.”
Pulling back from her shoulder, I look at my sister to see if she’s pranking me. Her smile grows and when she looks at me, I notice the smile reaches her eyes. “Wow.”
“Yeah, we decided it’s time. I mean, I’m a little apprehensive about it—I know it’s not ideal, having a child when your family’s in the mob, but…I know he’ll be a great dad.”
She sets down her cup on the table. I’m not sure how to respond.
I want to be happy for her. I am happy for her.
If this is what she wants, then yes! But it’s hard for me to know sometimes if Charlie is doing things for herself or for others.
She’s lived a huge part of her life for other people—Livvie and me, our dad. Her husband.
“Have you and Dante talked about having kids?” she asks.
“He mentioned heirs once, but we haven’t really talked about anything seriously. Seems we don’t have that kind of relationship. I think I would like kids someday, though.”
The horse comes to a choppy halt in the center of the ring. Livvie pats his neck, leaning forward to coo something in his ear.
“It’s just…when I pictured my life, I always imagined babies. But I never imagined a husband like Dante. I imagined…love.”
Charlie stares at me intently. It’s not like she got the husband of her dreams, either. She and I are on a parallel path when it comes to the arranged marriage bullshit.
She doesn’t say anything. Maybe I touched a nerve.
We both turn back to watching Livvie as she cues the horse into a rocking canter. She pulls the reins ever so slightly, asking the horse to change his gait into a delayed, long-legged stride. “She’s something special, isn’t she?” I say softly.
“She is.” Charlie grips the balcony rail with one hand until her knuckles turn white. “What if Dad comes back with a husband for Livvie?”
My hairline tingles, a lump forming in my throat at the thought. “Nothing like that is ever going to happen to her. Ever.”
“Okay.” Charlie nods in agreement. “Not ever.”
I put my hand over hers to seal our vow. “Not ever.”