Fear Of Falling

Rafe continued to press on his father’s chest so hard he was afraid he’d break Angelo’s sternum.

“Come on, Dad! You can make it. Come on! I’ll save you. Promise.”

Curt placed a hand on his back. A comforting hand. An empathetic hand. He barely registered the sirens in the distance. He would do anything to save the most important person in his life. Rafe loved his father with all his being, and he would trade his own life to save Angelo’s.

“Rafe,” Curt said softly. “Rafe. He’s gone.”

Rafe didn’t hear Curt. He wouldn’t. What he was saying was an absolute impossibility. His father was not dead. The paramedics would come. They’d stick some paddles on his chest and wake him up.

An ambulance and a fire truck drove down the long brick drive that Angelo had laid himself. The sirens echoed across the spring fields. Gina came running from the house still dressed in her robe and pajamas. Mica rushed down the back stairs.

Curt raced toward the ambulance, waving his arms. “Over here!”

Rafe was right. The paramedics placed paddles on Angelo’s chest and shocked him with enough electricity to bring a dead man back to life.

Angelo’s body remained quiet and still.

CHAPTER TWO

BENEATH A FLUTTER of pink crab-apple blossoms floating on the spring breeze, Olivia opened a café umbrella to welcome her patrons to the street-side tables at Indian Lake Deli for breakfast. A pair of robins flew to their nest in the white flowering pear tree. Spring was Olivia’s favorite season. Winter storm windows were taken down and opened, tulips and daffodils filled the city planters and the tops rolled back on convertibles. Everything she saw and smelled was electric with promise. She always felt anticipation in the spring, but this season was different somehow. She could almost feel a burst of creative energy taking place inside her cells, igniting them into tiny, raging flares of ideas and dreams. She just hoped that this year they didn’t all suffocate by summer’s end like they usually did.

Before she thought herself into a downward spiral, Olivia took out the digital camera she always carried in her apron pocket and snapped a close-up shot of the robins in the tree. She caught the radiant and colorful male tilting his head toward the dowdy, demure-looking female. Their flirtatious behavior was nearly human, and the photo offered the kind of peek into the animal dimension that Olivia prided herself on.

Over the years, Olivia had been amazed at the glimpses of the natural world she’d captured on film. Butterflies in whirling masses around butterfly bushes. Spiders spinning opalescent webs. Dewdrops slipping off rose petals and onto the back of a crawling grasshopper. Iridescent dragonfly wings as the insects darted in and out of sunbeams.

Sometimes Olivia left her apartment long before dawn to go down to the lake. Or she came home late at night after taking sunset photos on Lake Michigan’s beach.

Olivia had logged many hours perfecting her photographic skills, but she had yet to do anything significant with them. For years she’d told herself she wasn’t good enough yet, or that her lack of formal training was a non-starter. Then she became critical of others’ work and realized that her photos were as good as those that were published. Sometimes they were even better. More insightful.

But Olivia was practical. She knew art and talent didn’t always pay the bills. To put food on the table and pay her rent, insurance premiums and car note, she had to keep her day job, working with her mother at the Indian Lake Deli.

Just as Olivia locked the green canvas umbrella in place, Sarah, Maddie, Liz and Katia walked up and hugged her. They plopped down in the matching green canvas folding chairs. Liz looked exhausted but radiant and was starting to show her pregnancy in her spring-green tunic.

“Olivia, we need a round of your raspberry iced tea,” Sarah said, pushing her blond hair away from her flushed face. “We’re pooped.”

“You can say that again,” Maddie groaned. “My cappuccino is good, but your teas are absolutely vital for people in our ragged condition.” She swiped her palm across her neck. “I’m so out of shape,” she said under her breath.

“What have you been doing?” Olivia asked, taking out her pad and pen from her apron.

“Walking. Fast walking, to be exact. Liz has to exercise every day—so says her ob-gyn,” Maddie explained.

“Yeah,” Liz grumbled, smoothing her long hair into a ponytail. “As if working the vineyard isn’t enough.”

“It’s not the right kind of exercise,” Katia interjected. “Half a dozen of my Chicago girlfriends have been where you are. Walking is mandatory. I should loan you my treadmill,” she said with a flick of her wrist as if the decision didn’t require any more discussion.

“Spare me!” Liz raised her hands in mock horror. “I walk my hills every day!” Liz looked at Olivia. “Who knew I would have so many mother hens?”

“You need us, Liz,” Olivia insisted.

Sarah snapped her head in agreement. “Besides, walking together is a great stress reducer for all of us. The best part is that it gets me out of the office.”

“Me, too,” Katia chimed in. “I swear I could easily miss the whole spring if it weren’t for you, Liz. Olivia, you better make that six teas. Gina and Charmaine are supposed to join us in a few minutes.”

“Where are they now?” Olivia asked.

“Gina’s meeting Charmaine at Kid’s Corner to pick out the linens for the nursery,” Liz said. “I assume they’re there now.”

“You’re a lucky girl, Liz.” Olivia winked. “Gina and Charmaine have the best taste in just about everything.”

“So true. They almost make me feel guilty. Gina has been so generous. I asked Sarah to design the nursery, but...”

Sarah threw up her hands. “But oh, no! Charmaine wouldn’t hear of it. She practically stole one of my best friend’s accounts from me. Just teasing. Charmaine was dying to do that nursery.”

Olivia nodded. “I get that.” Charmaine had never been married, and with no kids of her own, she had to be over the moon about it.

Sarah chuckled. “Her real problem was reining in her ideas. You should have seen her design boards.” Sarah slapped both palms on her cheeks. “It was like every kid’s fantasy—from castles and dragons to little sailboats flying to the moon.”

Liz lifted her eyes to Olivia. “I went with the sailboats, by the way. Over a vineyard, of course,” She beamed happily. “The ceiling has glow-in-the-dark stars with glittery comets. It’s adorable.”

“Sounds magical.” Olivia sighed. This was what spring was all about. Looking forward to changes and new perspectives. Liz was living proof that something unexpected and wonderful could happen at any minute. Last spring she was tending her new grapevines just like she did every year. Then boom! Gabe Barzonni trespassed on her land, she nearly shot him and now here was Liz, married to Gabe and having his baby. Olivia would swoon over the romance of it all, if she was the swooning type. Which she was not. Olivia was much too practical for rhapsodic thoughts.

Olivia smiled at Liz. “I’m so happy for you, Liz. Really happy.”

“Thanks, Olivia.” Liz squeezed Olivia’s hand then looked around the table. “Friends like you—all of you—are so rare. We’re all very lucky.”

“Yes, we are,” Katia said. “Moving back to Indian Lake was the best thing I ever did.”

Olivia nearly hooted. “No kidding! And we have you to thank for putting the smile back on Austin’s face. I’ve always liked him. My mom and I have catered in his home several times. He’s always been kind to us.” Olivia smiled. “We’re sure glad you’re here, Katia.”

“Thanks.” Katia returned Olivia’s smile.

Just then Liz’s cell phone chimed. She took it out of her pocket and checked the caller ID. “It’s Gabe. I gotta take this.”

“I’ll get the iced teas,” Olivia said, heading back inside the deli. She’d just stepped behind the pastry case when the phone rang. “Indian Lake Deli,” she answered.

At first she could barely understand the woman on the other end of the phone because she was crying so much. Olivia put her left hand over her left ear to shut out the din of voices inside the deli. “How can I help you?” Her mouth fell open as she realized it was Gina Barzonni. “Gina. Slow down. Tell me again what happened.”

Olivia was stunned by the news. Angelo was dead. Heart attack. Gina was planning a funeral for Saturday, five days from now, because one of her sisters was flying in from Sicily. Gina wanted a formal sit-down luncheon after the burial, and she wanted Olivia and her mother, Julia, to handle the entire event. She promised to call the next day to go over details, but she needed to make sure that Olivia was free at such late notice.

“I’m so, so sorry to hear all this, Gina. I had no idea Angelo was sick. Don’t worry about a thing,” Olivia assured her. “We’ll put together some ideas and I’ll call you tomorrow. You take care of yourself. This is a very stressful time, and I know your entire family will be leaning on you.”

Olivia hung up and glanced out to the window. From the stricken looks on her friends’ faces, she guessed Gabe had just called Liz with the news. Liz was still on the phone, nodding and looking compassionately at Maddie, now her sister-in-law. Sarah was holding Liz’s hand. Katia’s expression was solemn.

Olivia rushed back outside to be with them. Maddie’s phone rang just as she reached the table. She answered it, rose and walked to the curb to have privacy while she spoke to her husband.

“Liz, I’m so sorry,” Olivia said once Liz hung up, standing over her friend and putting her arm around her shoulder. “How is Gabe?”

Sarah glanced up at Olivia. “You were inside. How did you hear about it?”

“That was Gina on the phone.”

“How did she sound?”

“Devastated. I could barely make out what she was saying.”

Liz nodded. “Gabe said he was worried about her. I guess he should be.”

Olivia had to agree. “She told me the funeral and burial are set for Saturday. She wants me and Mom to cater the luncheon. I’m in shock. You must be, too, Liz. And Maddie. Angelo seemed so healthy to me.”

“To be honest, Nate told us that Angelo had several heart issues, but he just wouldn’t take care of himself,” Liz explained sadly.

Maddie hung up her phone and came back to the table. She looked at Olivia. “Nate was in surgery since nearly daybreak. He just got the news from Rafe. Nate told me he’s been expecting this exact thing to happen, but he’s still shocked. I don’t think there is any way we can prepare ourselves for something like this.”

Olivia couldn’t help thinking that only a few minutes ago, she’d sensed that something was about to change and that her life was about to alter its course. She shivered. To Olivia, Angelo Barzonni was a legend, the immigrant from the streets of Sicily who came to Indian Lake and built one of the most successful family-owned farms in the Midwest. She admired him. He’d taken the raw fabric of his life and created a mini-dynasty with his wife and four sons. Olivia could feel the void opening up in Indian Lake with his passing, like a rip in the universe. Already, she could tell that a lot would change with his death.

“Maddie, I’m so very sorry. Please tell Nate I’m praying for the whole family.”

“I will.”

Katia took out her phone. “I should call Austin. He needs to be with Rafe. They’re so close, and I’m sure this is devastating for Rafe.”

Maddie’s gaze swung to Katia. “I hadn’t thought about that. Rafe will be the most affected. Nate always said Rafe was Angelo’s favorite. And Rafe and Mica were the last ones left on the farm. They’ve been sharing Gabe’s duties since the wedding.”

Liz pressed her hand to her forehead. “I feel so sorry for all of them. They were a close family. I can’t imagine what it would be like if my grandfather—”

“Don’t even go there,” Olivia admonished her. “Sam is fine, and he does see Nate when he’s supposed to.”

Liz nodded glumly.

“I just had a thought,” Maddie said to Olivia. “Could you do me a favor and put together a tray of sandwiches and maybe a bowl of potato salad—the yogurt kind Nate likes—so I could take it out to the farm? It’s my bet people will be stopping by all day today.”

“All week, you mean. Sure. Absolutely.” Olivia went over to hug Maddie.

Liz rose. “I better go. Gabe’s going to meet me at the farm. You want to drive with me, Maddie?” she asked her sister-in-law.

“Sure.” Maddie paused and looked at Sarah. “Will you tell Mrs. Beabots or do you want me to call her?”

“I’ll go over to her house. I’ll call Luke from my cell. Charmaine, too.”

Olivia hugged each of her friends one more time and as they walked off in separate directions, she was struck with the significance of the moment. In one way or another, big and small, they’d each been touched by Angelo’s life...and now death. Maddie and Liz had married his sons. Katia’s fiancé, Austin, was Rafe Barzonni’s best friend. Though Olivia didn’t know Angelo all that well, her best friends were part of his family now and that affected her. Olivia had always believed that all living organisms were connected, somehow. This sad event was a kind of proof.

The rupture in her friends’ world was overtaking them. And the tragedy touched Olivia, too. But Angelo was an inspiration, and Olivia couldn’t help but wonder whether there was a lesson in the life he’d lived.

Olivia dreamed of taking her photography skills and talent to the next level, but she’d never done much about it. She left her ability buried and untried, never giving it a chance to flourish. Angelo had never compromised on his ambition, working dawn till dusk to achieve his goals and build a legacy.

She went back inside the deli, taking out her pad to begin making a list of what they’d need to cater the funeral. She could ponder the meaning of Angelo’s death on her life, but this coming week would be brutal and heart-wrenching for her friends. She could only hope to give them support and words of solace. She would be the loving friend they needed.

CHAPTER THREE

THE DAY OF Angelo Barzonni’s funeral dinner sounded like the clanging of requiem bells as Olivia and Julia slammed pots, pans and metal trays into the back of their eight-year-old Chevrolet minivan. With her hair shoved into a tight knot on top of her head, wearing little makeup and comfortable black leggings, a chef’s jacket and running shoes, Olivia’s only concession to fashion were the gold hoop earrings in her ears.

“Did you get the copper chafing dish and the Sterno?” Julia asked.

“Yes. Did you remember the warming tray and the plug?”

Her mother’s dark eyes grew wide. “The plug. I never remember the plug.”

“I taped it to the back of the tray after we catered the Halsteads’ brunch last Sunday. I just wanted to make sure it was there.”

Julia turned the heavy electronic tray over. “Here!”

“Great. Also, I packed the three-tiered epergne for my macarons and napoleon pastries. The gingerbread cookies are in tins, and I’ll put those in the scoops of cinnamon ice cream right before we serve the desserts.”

Julia looked around the inside of the van. “Where’s the chocolate mousse?”

Olivia gasped. “What mousse? Was I supposed to make chocolate mousse? I didn’t see it on the menu. Oh, no. What’ll I do?”

Julia dropped her chin to her chest but then looked up in relief. “Silly me. We used the mousse for the macarons.”

Olivia’s exhale could have set sail to a Yankee Clipper. “Thank goodness! We don’t have time for mistakes, and I want this to be as stress-free for that family as possible.”

“I agree.” Julia paused thoughtfully. “Angelo was only five years older than I am. This has made me sit up and take notice.”

Olivia shoved a bowl of ambrosia into the van. “Notice what?”

“You know. Life.”

“I know what you mean, Mom. I guess death always does that to the rest of us, huh?”

Julia shook her head. “Somehow this is different. Did you see the cortege that drove past here on the way to the grave site? I counted sixty-five cars.”

“Sixty-seven,” Olivia corrected her, checking her watch. “Fortunately, not all of them are invited to the house. The family will be back from the cemetery by now. Still, we need to hustle.”

“You’re right,” Julia said. “Why don’t you drive out and get started. I’ll gather up the rest of the salads, the fruit and casseroles and bring them out in a few minutes.”

“Good thinking. I’ll meet you out there.” Olivia patted her pockets to make sure she hadn’t forgotten her camera. Olivia never went anywhere without a camera of some kind. Though it was important for their catering business that she take photos of the food for their website, Olivia was always on the lookout for the exceptional photo, the surprise shot that one day, someday, she could submit in a portfolio for a major magazine.

As Olivia drove off, she glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see her mother wave to her, as she always did when she left her mom’s sight. It was just a little gesture in a long day of catering, planning...living, but it meant a great deal to Olivia. Her mother was right. Death always made people stop and think about their own lives. She smiled at the reflection in the rearview mirror. Olivia loved her mother a great deal; Julia was her best friend. She couldn’t imagine what the Barzonni sons were going through right now.

* * *

HALF A DOZEN cars were parked along the winding path to the Barzonni villa. The dinner guests weren’t due for another two hours, but Olivia knew it would be almost impossible to find a spot on the drive by then.

Olivia continued past a two-story carriage house, with garage doors on the ground level and what she guessed was an apartment up above. She parked outside it, close to the back door of the main house, then followed a short hall past the laundry room and into the kitchen. Easy access was always a plus for Olivia when she was hauling large chafing dishes, food and serving pieces. Her marble-and-silver epergne was lovely, but it weighed thirty pounds.

The aromas of garlic, basil, tomato and baking bread hit Olivia when she entered the enormous, Tuscan-style kitchen. Gina had conferred with Olivia and Julia about the menu and in the end, Gina had decided she wanted to cook a few of her signature Italian dishes for her family.

Gina was dressed in a black silk sheath dress with long lace sleeves and a white apron that was smeared with what looked like red sauce. She was stirring something in an industrial-size stainless-steel pot. She lifted a huge spoon and said to Olivia, “You have to taste this. My cream-of-tomato soup. I froze the tomatoes last fall and dried the basil from my garden. I think it’s my best ever.”

Olivia put the plastic crate she was carrying on the floor next to one of the two granite-topped islands and crossed to the six-burner gas stove. Gina offered her a teaspoon and Olivia dipped it in the soup. “It’s incredible. Sweet,” Olivia said when she tasted it.

“That’s brown sugar. My secret. You can tell your mother but no one else. By the way, where is Julia?”

“She’s on her way with the rest of the food. But may I ask, why aren’t you with your guests and visitors?”

Gina lowered her eyes and looked at the pot. “This was Angelo’s favorite soup. He would have wanted me to make it for the family.” She stirred the soup absently. “I’m better when I’m busy. It’s hours until we eat. I even told the boys to stop hovering. Gabe took Liz for a walk. I think Mica, Nate and Maddie are playing cards with my sister, Bianca. Most of the guests are in the living room. Rafe went out for a ride on Rowan.”

“Rowan?” Olivia asked.

“His favorite horse. We have quite a few horses, did you know?”

Olivia felt a knot form in her stomach. “Oh, yeah. Workhorses. Sure. Makes sense. This being a farm and all.”

“We have those, but I’m talking about Thoroughbreds.”

Olivia’s mouth went dry with an all-too-familiar, though long-buried fear. Gina was talking about racehorses.

“Rafe and Angelo think they have a winner in Rowan. They’re hoping to enter him in some Graded Stakes races for the Kentucky Derby. They changed all the rules two years ago. Even the Illinois Derby isn’t part of the qualifying trials anymore. Angelo—” Gina’s voice hitched.

Olivia reached out to console her.

Racing horses. She said racing horses.

She froze and dropped her arm to her side. She felt the thrum thrum thrum of her heart in her ears. Olivia tried to formulate some kind of empathetic sentence. Nothing happened. Her stomach roiled. The fear she’d felt earlier gripped her. She knew she wouldn’t escape this time.

Gina wiped the tears from her eyes and kept staring at the soup. “Sorry. They won’t be doing that this year. I don’t know what Rafe will do.”

Anger and fear rooted Olivia to the spot. It had been years since she’d been confronted by the demons of her past. Those dark, sinewy fingers of dread that crippled her mind and soul had returned. She felt as if she were tumbling backward through the years. Through a tunnel of black terror.

Olivia’s father had been addicted to gambling. Horse races, in particular. Any horse race: those he listened to on the radio, those he watched on television. But the ones he loved most were live action. His thrill meter soared the highest when he was in the crowd, cheering and stomping for his horse to cross the finish line.

She choked back the sour taste in her mouth.

When she was very young, her father drove her to Arlington International Racecourse near Chicago and showed her how to place bets. He went into great detail about the strategy he used, the amount of money he would win and all the wonderful things he would do for her and her mother once he “hit the jackpot.” Olivia hadn’t cared about the betting, but she had been mesmerized by the horses: their gait, the way the sun glinted off their shiny coats as their muscles strained with each gallop. She admired their majesty and the tilt of their heads in the winner’s circle, as if they knew they were the stars. They were the real trophies.

She’d revisited the memory of her first encounter with horses often in her life. She only wished it had not been juxtaposed with the disappointment and betrayal of her father’s disease.

When Olivia was twelve, her father had drained the family savings account, surreptitiously taken out a second mortgage on their home and run up a mountain of credit-card debt by taking cash advances. All the rehabilitation meetings and counseling sessions that Julia had dragged him to hadn’t made a dent. He continued to borrow from friends, claiming the money was for Olivia or some other lie he’d concocted. Finally, one night during a screaming match between her parents, Julia had asked for a divorce.

Olivia’s father left the next morning and never contacted them again. Julia had no formal education, but she was an excellent cook. With the help of Ann Marie Jensen, who co-signed the lease for the space that would become the Indian Lake Deli, Julia began her catering business. It took every last cent Julia had hidden for Olivia’s college fund to pay off her father’s debts and to keep the deli open in those early years, but together Olivia and her mother had survived.

The shameful years. That was what Olivia had called them when she was younger. Kids often whispered behind her back or bullied her. But her real friends, like Sarah, Maddie and Isabelle, had stuck by her and got her through. It had been Sarah’s idea to help Olivia get over her fears by forcing Olivia to accompany her to dressage classes.

She couldn’t afford the lessons, of course, but Sarah had insisted she just come along and watch, maybe take photos of her. And it had been fun. Sarah had helped Olivia realize that horses were not just beautiful, but also intelligent and not to be feared. Eventually, Olivia realized that it was her father’s addiction that terrified her, not the horses. In fact, Olivia believed she understood not just horses but all animals, too, more than she understood humans. What she wished for horses was freedom to run unencumbered by a rider, especially a jockey, whose sole purpose and drive was to win a race.