Her Lakeside Family - Lenora Worth

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the last time he’d felt this relaxed, money and remodeling aside.

      When she whirled around to face him, they almost crashed together but he caught her and then stood back, the second of contact jolting through him like an electric shock.

      But Davina didn’t miss a beat even if her eyes did widen. “And wait until you hear what I have in mind for the lake house. We’ll have a whole cake to soften that blow when I go over the details.”

      Santo decided he could handle that. Davina was smart and talented and determined. And she loved her work. His sister had put him in good hands. But then, Rikki knew him so well and she’d been through this awful ordeal, too. He was glad she’d moved back here and he had grudgingly accepted her husband, Blain Kent, as a trusted friend. They’d both been a comfort to Santo over these last long months and truth be told, they’d suffered just as much as he had. Blain still had nightmares about having to shoot Santo’s wife in order to save Rikki. But they had each other and Blain loved Rikki. Santo wished he and Althea could have had that kind of solid foundation.

      Maybe this house had been built on sinking sand.

      He had no one, and his children, while a joy, weren’t old enough to understand what he was dealing with. Not yet, but Lucia had asked a lot of questions.

      He’d have to make good on his side of this bargain, Santo decided. He’d have to invest some sweat equity of his own.

      And watching Davina now with anticipation lighting up her pretty face, he didn’t think that would be such a hardship. She’d breathed new life into this house.

      Maybe being around her could bring him back to life, too.

       Chapter Three

      Two days later, Davina stood in the galley kitchen of the garage apartment Rikki had suggested she rent for the spring. Since she’d be here in Millbrook Lake for months, Davina had readily agreed after seeing the neat little one-bedroom apartment located on the church grounds. It had a massive picture window with a great view of the lake, and she could walk to church and just about anywhere else. She loved walking around the lake every evening. Tonight would be a good time. Lovely, warm and with a gentle breeze.

      But her cell rang before she could go put on her sneakers.

      Mom.

      “Hello,” Davina said, waiting for the usual questions of “How are you? Are you working too hard? Are you seeing anyone?”

      She got those and more, but she only told her mom what she wanted her to know. Coming from a big, noisy and nosy family had shaped Davina’s entire personality. She liked being independent and out on her own, even if she did miss her family all the time. But she wasn’t about to tell her mother about Santo Alvanetti.

      “When are you gonna settle down?” Nancy asked each time she went home to Bayou Fontaine.

      “I’m settled, Ma,” Davina would always reply. “Settled into my work. I love what I do and one day, I’ll finally get our house back the way it should be.”

      Ma always laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “Look at you, worrying about this old money trap when you need to be having babies and cooking meals.”

      She didn’t want babies and meals. She wanted rooms to paint and trim and she wanted walls to tear down and rebuild. Her daddy had once been in charge of a growing construction company but his bad health and some equally bad decisions during the lean housing market had caused him to almost lose everything. She and Darren had done what they could, but Da was still working part-time and still struggling.

      He’d forced Davina to leave the nest, telling her she had a lot of talent that she shouldn’t waste following him around.

      But she’d always wondered if maybe her dad had sent her away because she was a woman and he believed she’d never be good at construction.

      She’d show all of them. She wanted to help her family so she needed to get her crew settled in nearby apartments and hotels since they’d be here for the long haul.

      Santo and his adorable children came to mind.

      He had a family. A family in need of a good home. A loving home. But he also had walls that needed rebuilding. Or moving.

      “You’ll certainly have a challenge with him,” she mumbled.

      Santo Alvanetti had a solid wall around himself.

      An invisible wall that he didn’t even see and a wall he obviously couldn’t see through, either. Davina always summed up a home owner while she was measuring and calculating. It didn’t take much to sum up Santo Alvanetti. Widowed, tragic and stressed to the max. Unavailable. Unwilling to risk anything. With anyone.

      Her focus was on getting his place in shape to sell so she could get to the really good project. The old rambling house he’d bought on the lake in town. That house had not only good bones. It had a real heart. It would be the one house that could showcase her talents on a regional and maybe even a national level.

      Davina would focus on the houses and not their owner because her goal had always been on rebuilding and renovating.

      Virginia would focus on the children.

      But Davina had to wonder who was focusing on helping Santo Alvanetti to heal from his wife’s betrayal.

      * * *

      “I can’t seem to focus.”

      Santo didn’t like admitting that but he had to talk to someone and the man sitting across from him was the only person he could trust not to spread any more rumors about him.

      Rory Sanderson’s blue eyes remained calm and blank. He was a good minister and Santo liked him a lot. But Rikki and her friends had brought him kicking and screaming to visit with the man who preached each Sunday at the Millbrook Lake Church in town. Today for the sake of privacy, Rory had driven the few miles north of town to the offices and warehouse at Alvanetti Imports to counsel Santo. While he looked more like a beach bum or maybe a surfer than a minister, Rory was kind and compassionate and he withheld judgment. He listened a lot more than he advised. Which scored points with Santo. He was so tired of unsolicited, unmanageable advice.

      “Why can’t I just snap out this?” he asked Rory now, his gaze moving to the business card on his desk that stated in a bold, black scroll—Davina Connell Construction, Bayou Fontaine, Louisiana. “I have a new nanny and she’s great with the kids and Davina Connell is working day and night to update the house. It’s beginning to look like a different place, a better place. She’s doing things I would have never thought of doing. I should be able to relax a little and concentrate on what’s important. I’ve never had trouble balancing things, even when Althea neglected the entire family. I made it work but now... I don’t have any energy. I need to keep things going for my children and for this business.”

      “It takes time,” Rory said. “Grief can take a toll and it shows up in many forms and it comes at the most unexpected times. It can exhaust you completely. You and the children might all experience outbursts, impatience, lack of focus, lack of appetite, lack of sleep.”

      “All of the above,” Santo admitted. “I see the outbursts in my children but I know I lose my patience even more now than I did before.”

      “So you’ve never been a patient man?” Rory asked with a wry smile.

      “Not very good at it, no.” Santo thought back over the last year or so. “It’s been a while since...Althea died. I thought I’d be able to get on with my life by now but I can see how this was building up when she was still alive. My children are still suffering and I don’t know how to help them.”

      “You can help them by learning to be patient. But more importantly, you need to be in the moment with them. I know that might sound cliché, but it works,” Rory replied on a gentle note. “Hold them. Talk to them. Sit with them. Read to

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