The Return of Antonides: Christmas at the Castello(2)

Since Matt's death she hadn't really known where Lukas was. She'd  received a sympathy card simply signed "Lukas." No personal remarks.  Nothing-except the spiky black scrawl of his name-which was absolutely  fine with her.

She hadn't expected him at the funeral. It was too far to come. And  thank God for that. She hadn't had to deal with him along with  everything else. For a dozen years now she hadn't had to deal with him  at all. So why was Althea bringing him up now, when he was off mining  opals or wrangling kangaroos or doing whatever enthusiasm was grabbing  him at the moment?                       
       
           



       

"He's back," Althea said. "Didn't you see the article in What's New!?"

Holly felt her stomach clench. "No." It was the end of the school year.  She didn't have time to read anything except student papers. "What  article?" What's New! was a hot, upscale lifestyle magazine. Out of her  league. She wouldn't normally read it anyway.

Since getting engaged to Stig, Althea always read it. Sometimes she was  even in it. Now she nodded eagerly. "Gorgeous article. Just like him."  She grinned. "He got the centerfold."

"They don't have centerfolds in What's New!" But the image it conjured up made Holly's cheeks flame.

Althea laughed. "The centerfold of the magazine. There's a double-page  spread of Lukas in his office. Big story about him and his foundation  and the gallery he's opening."

"Foundation? Gallery? What gallery?"

"He's opening a gallery for Australian, New Zealand and Pacific art  here in New York. Big stuff in the local art community. And he's heading  up some charitable foundation."

"Lukas?" If the gallery and the centerfold boggled her mind, the notion  of Lukas heading up a charitable foundation sounded like a sign of the  apocalypse.

"It's in this week's issue," Althea went on. "He's on the cover, too.  Surprised it didn't catch your eye. The gallery is in SoHo. They showed  some of the art and sculpture in the article. Very trendy. It's going to  draw lots of interest." Her grin widened. "So is Lukas."

Holly folded her hands in her lap, staring straight ahead. "How nice."

Althea made a tutting sound. "What do you have against Lukas? You were friends."

"He was Matt's friend," Holly insisted.

Lukas's move into the neighborhood had turned Holly's life upside down.  Until then she and Matt had been best friends. But once Lukas arrived,  she'd been relegated to tag-along, particularly by Lukas.

Matt hadn't ditched her completely. Solid, dependable, responsible Matt  had always insisted that Holly was his friend. But when Lukas's father  took them out in his sailboat, she hadn't been invited.

"Go play with Martha," Lukas had said. It had been his answer to everything.

His twin sister, Martha, had spent hours drawing and sketching  everything in sight. Holly couldn't draw a stick figure without a ruler.  She'd liked swimming and playing ball and catching frogs and riding  bikes. She'd liked all the same things Matt did.

Except Lukas.

If Matt had always been as comfortable as her oldest shoes, Lukas was  like walking on nails. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Fascinating in the way  that, say, Bengal tigers were fascinating. And perversely, she'd never  been able to ignore him.

If Lukas was back, she had yet another reason to be glad she was leaving.

"He's made a fortune opal mining, apparently," Althea told her. "And  he's parlayed it into successful businesses across the world. He's got  fingers in lots of pies, your Lukas."

"He's not my Lukas," Holly said, unable to stop herself.

"Well, you should consider him," Althea said, apparently seriously.  "He's handsomer than ever. Animal magnetism and all that." Althea  flapped a hand like a fan in front of her face. "Seriously hot."

"Hotter than Stig?"

"No one's hotter than Stig," Althea said with a grin. "But Lukas is definitely loaded with sex appeal."

"And knows it, too, I'm sure," Holly said. He always had. Once he'd  noticed the opposite sex, Lukas had gone through women like a shark went  through minnows.

"Well, you should look him up-for old times' sake," Althea said firmly.

"I don't think so." Holly cast about for a change in subject, then  realized happily that she didn't need to. The taxi had just turned onto  her street.

Althea shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I'd pick him over Paul any day of the week."

"Be my guest." Holly gathered up her sweater and tote bag.

"Nope. I've got my man." Althea gave a smug, satisfied smile.

Once I had mine, too, Holly thought. She didn't say it. There was no  reason to make Althea feel guilty because she had found the love of her  life and Holly had lost hers. "Hang on to him," she advised, getting out  her share of the taxi fare.

"Put that away. The taxi is on me. I'm sorry we didn't find a dress. Maybe next Saturday..."

"Can't. I'm going to be kayaking with the kids from school next  Saturday." She'd only missed going today because Althea had begged her.                       
       
           



       

"Then maybe I'll take Stig. Do you trust me to do it on my own?"

Trust her? After Althea had dressed her like a cupcake with too much frosting three times before?

Wincing inwardly, Holly pasted on her best resilient-bridesmaid smile.  "Of course I trust you. It's your wedding. I'll wear whatever you  choose."

Althea gave Holly a fierce hug. "You're such a trouper, Hol', hanging  in with me through all my weddings." She pulled back and looked at Holly  with eyes the same flecked hazel as Matt's. "I know it's been tough. I  know it's been an awful two years. I know life will never be the same.  It won't be for any of us. But Matt would want you to be happy again.  You know he would."

Holly's throat tightened and her eyes blurred, because yes, she knew  Matt would want that, damn him. Matt had never focused on the downside.  Whenever life had dealt him lemons or a broken leg-though it had  actually been Lukas who'd dealt him that, she recalled-Matt had coped.  He would expect her to do the same.

"The right guy will come along," Althea assured Holly as she opened the  cab door. "I know he will. Just like Stig did for me when I'd given up  all hope."

"Sure," Holly humored her as she stepped out onto the curb and turned back to smile.

Althea grinned. "You never know. It might even be Lukas."

* * *

Lukas Antonides used to feel at home in New York City. He used to be in  tune with its speed, its noise, its color, its pace of life. Once upon a  time he'd got energized by it. Now all he got was a headache.

Or maybe it wasn't the city giving him a headache. Maybe it was the rest of his life.

Lukas thrived on hard work and taking charge. But he had always known  that if he wanted to, he could simply pick up and walk away. He couldn't  walk away from the gallery-didn't want to. But being everything to  every artist and craftsperson who was counting on him-and the  gallery-when for years he had resisted being responsible for anyone  other than himself made his head pound.

Ordinarily, he loved hard physical labor. Throwing himself body and  soul into whatever he was doing gave him energy. That was why he'd taken  over the renovation of not only the gallery, but the rest of the  offices and apartments in the cast-iron SoHo building he'd bought three  months ago. But the gallery cut into the time he had for that, and  getting behind where he thought he should be was causing a throb behind  his eyes.

And then there was his mother who, since he'd got back from Australia,  had been saying not so sotto voce, "Is she the one?" whenever he  mentioned a woman's name. He knew she was angling for another  daughter-in-law. It was what Greek mothers did. He'd been spared before  as there were other siblings to pressure. But they were all married now,  busily providing the next generation.

Only he was still single.

"I'll marry when I'm ready," he'd told her flatly. He didn't tell her  that he didn't see it happening. He'd long ago missed that boat.

But more than anything, he was sure the headache-the pounding behind  his eyes, the throbbing that wouldn't go away-was caused by the damned  stalagmites of applications for grants by the MacClintock Foundation,  which, for his sins, he was in charge of.

"Just a few more," his secretary, Serafina, announced with dry irony, dropping another six-inch stack onto his desk.

Lukas groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache spiked.  He wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. He was an action man, not a  paper-pusher. And Skeet MacClintock had known that!