Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [35]
Julia didn't know what was fair anymore. But she did know that none of her questions had anything to, do with Gino. "You don't have to apologize. I've had | a great life. No complaints." "Just questions," he said.
"Yes. Do you remember anything about where Mom and I lived in Berkeley? An address maybe? Or the name of one of her friends?"
"You lived in a little apartment over a garage. Sarah said she'd only lived there for a month or two. I went there once or twice. I think the street was Fremont or Fairmont. Does that help at all?"
"It might. At least I know the names of my grandparents. That's something. One last question: I found a Russian doll in the storage locker among Mom's things. Did she ever tell you if she'd traveled to Russia?"
His eyes widened and he laughed. "Russia? Are you 1 kidding? Your mother hated to travel. I'm sure she never left the country."
"If she had left the country before she met you, she would have had a passport, right? Did you ever see a passport? I didn't find any of Mom's personal papers in the storage locker."
"I haven't gone through the office things, which are in boxes in my apartment. I don't remember seeing a passport. But your mother paid all the bills and kept track of the paperwork. I left all that to her, so I don't have any idea what's there."
"Could I take a look sometime?"
"Sure, whatever you want, Julia. Is that it?"
He hadn't told her much, but the few details he had shared with her teased at her mind, making her reconsider her plan to stop researching her past.
"I think we should have some wine, some food, and some good conversation," Gino said when she didn't reply. "Shall we join the others?"
"Sure."
As they left the bedroom, they went in opposite directions. Her father headed toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen while Julia joined Michael at the end of the buffet line in the dining room.
"Everything okay?" Michael asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. "You disappeared for a while."
"I was talking to Dad."
"About his drinking?"
Julia felt a spark of guilt at the question. She probably should have been talking to him about his drinking, but she'd been too caught up in her own problems. "We didn't get to that," she muttered.
"He's still grieving over your mother. I'm sure he'll slow down soon." "I hope so."
"I have an idea. How about a sail this afternoon?" Michael asked, an inviting smile on his face. "It's a beautiful day."
"I have to work. You know that. One to three every Sunday," she reminded him.
Irritation flashed through his eyes. "I wish you'd get rid of that shift. It would be nice to spend more time on the weekends together."
She'd heard him make that comment before. While she appreciated the fact that he wanted to spend time with her, he didn't seem to understand how important her job was to her. "I'm lucky I can host my own show on the weekends, Michael. I get bigger audience numbers than when I host the ten-to-midnight weekday shows. Besides, I thought you were running a charter today."
"Not until sunset. You could join me for that. You'll be done with your show by then."
"It's a possibility," she said tentatively. She didn't mind sailing, but it wasn't her first choice of things to do, especially when Michael was running a charter. She usually felt like the odd man out and spent most of her time wishing she'd stayed home and gotten caught up on her bills, her laundry, and the other details of her life.
"Julia," Liz interrupted, holding out Julia's cell phone. "I heard it ringing in your purse. He said it was important."
Julia took the phone from Liz, noting the frown on her sister's