Last Man Standing

By Patricia Holden

In the sixth book of the Turn My Head series, Rosemary Fallon, granddaughter of United States Senator Aidan Dolan, and gifted violinist, is home in St. Louis from Zurich while her grandfather lives out the end of his days. Unbeknownst to the family - at least Rosemary and her lover Francis Pernoud, sixth of the wealthy family that was suddenly losing bachelors at a rate of six in a year, didn't think they knew - she and Francis had been secretly, and very much in love since high school despite the pact that Rosemary and her twin brother Ryan made when they were seventeen to never marry.

Against the backdrop of the Senator dying and the family drama surrounding that including the fate of Rosemary's prized violin made by one of the great 18th century masters of Cremona, Rosemary and Francis discover that they cannot keep the attraction a secret. They eventually admit the truth, and take their time working out the details including Francis owning up to not really being the Last Man Standing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Holden
• Release date: May 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370476527

Patricia Holden

A resident of Flyover Country in the Unites States, Patricia Holden, the pen name of a good Catholic girl from the Midwest, is committed to Christianity and traditional social roles, as well as high arts and culture. Watching politics, observing human behavior and writing are some of her long-time interests. The author known as Patricia Holden is a classically trained soprano and proud citizen of Cardinal Nation, although, during hockey season, Bleeds Blue. She lives with family and a cute and charming tyrant...make that a toy dog. She also crochets.Please, visit this writer's Facebook author page @PatriciaHoldenAuthor for reader fellowship and frequent conversations about upcoming books including voting on cover art, and snippets of upcoming offerings.

Book preview

Last Man Standing

by Patricia Holden

Published by Susan Sampson at SmashWords

Copyright © 2017 Susan Sampson

Cover Photo from CanStockPhoto

Other Titles from Patricia Holden on Smashwords:

Turn My Head

Break Through

Third Time’s the Charm

Conflict of Interest

Romeo Night

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

Rosemary Fallon stood at the sink in her grandfather’s kitchen, the place her grandmother ruled until her death just a few short years ago. When her grandmother was alive, the room was always full of laughter and the loud conversations of Rosemary’s youth where she and her brother and cousins shouted their conversations. It was the one location where the Dolan clan, her mother’s family, gathered to be together, and celebrate life as only the Irish who survived the melting pot of America to keep a bit of culture from the old country intact among them could.

She was cooking dinner for the changing of the guard, as she liked to call it, the switch out of family members who were sitting with her grandfather, United States Senator Aidan Dolan, as he lived out the end of his days hooked to a morphine drip, waiting for the pancreatic cancer discovered over the summer to follow its natural course. The clan took the news in stride, truth be told, but still, they were taking turns twenty-four hours a day in what amounted to a death watch. Rosemary’s mother Eileen, Uncle Tom Dolan, Great Aunt Cecilia Dolan, and Aunt Cecilia’s good friend Isabella Legace Pernoud were all upstairs where her grandfather was holding court for one of the last times. The old man was ensconced in his bedroom and second floor den enjoying the company of family and friends while Rosemary swore sheer will-power kept him alive.

What Rosemary was really waiting for this evening, though, was her twin brother Ryan, and her cousin Mickey – and their companions - to get back from an afternoon on the golf course. Today looked to be about the last of the warm days of the year as weather predictions were for the temperatures to take their annual nosedive later in the week. Fall in St. Louis did tend to follow that pattern every November. Seventy degrees one day, and a high of forty the next. This winter wasn’t going to be much different, she thought.

Not that she had been around St. Louis much in the last few years. Unlike the rest of the family who grew up here, and stayed because that was what people from her native St. Louis did, she left after high school, attended a music conservatory in Vienna, and really never came back other than for a visit now and then.

Until now.

Rosemary didn’t like to think about it, but the duration she came home to help with when her grandfather’s cancer diagnosis came over the summer was not going to last much longer. He really was on his death bed. It was still very hard to take in.

She looked around the room that her grandmother had last had remodeled when Rosemary was a small child. She didn’t remember much of the plain, white cabinets, and pink and blue checkerboard floor of her early childhood that was long gone. She did, though, remember her mother’s husband declaring that a full rip out and redo of the wood grain cabinets, wide island, fake granite counters, and gray, feathered flooring was going to cost a fortune to modernize before they could sell the place when the estate was liquidated.

Rosemary didn’t really want to think about that - any of the estate issues facing the family - either.

The door leading to the back patio room opened, and through it walked the two people who would change places with the guard currently upstairs keeping the Senator company. Her brother Ryan, two minutes older and a lot bigger than Rosemary as his body, anyway, took after the Fallon side of the family. He had her same jewel-like hazel eyes, and dark brown hair with an Irish jaw and eyebrows. Right behind him was her cousin Mickey Dolan, one of the six carbon copies produced by her Uncle Tom and Aunt Marcia, sporting inky black curls, mossy greenish eyes, and fair skin that marked him as Black Irish. Mickey wasn’t as tall as the other men in his family only by a couple inches, but he was imposing all the same.

But, it wasn’t her brother or cousin who caught her attention when they filed through the door. It was the third of the trio.

The man entered the room, and Rosemary’s breath stilled all while her heartbeat jumped, and her mouth went dry. Her brother and cousin’s good friend Francis Pernoud, the sixth of the clan of super-rich men who kept most of the city fascinated with their secluded and secretive bachelorhood - until five of the seven either got married or engaged in the last year - sauntered into her grandmother’s kitchen like he belonged there.

Rosemary’s eyes met the chocolaty brown of Francis’s. She took in the short, almost Caesar cut of his brown curls, and the bronzed skin that had yet to age. His face was the same oval she remembered from when they were in high school, and his lips the same full, kissable pair. But, it was the shoulders that really caught her attention. They had always been wide, but not alluring in a purely masculine way. With a few years on him, at twenty-seven, Francis had filled out. Wearing a navy blue anorak over his khakis, he looked good enough to eat.

She tried not to stare even as the air was sucked out of the room.

Hey, sis, Ryan said drawing her attention, Mom and Uncle Tom still upstairs?

Yes, she nodded to him. And your dinner is in the oven.

Smells good, Mickey said walking to the oven built into the wall, and peeking at the Sunday roaster all decked out in roasting vegetables.

While you’re in there, baste the thing, will you? Rosemary nodded at the small pot of broth sitting on the cooktop. She turned back to her brother. Uncle Tom is going to take Aunt Cecilia back to her apartment at the assisted living place tonight. The hospice nurses don’t really want her underfoot without him or Mom here to keep her in check.

Ryan made a face. Yeah, I gathered that. His head ticked to Francis. Francis is here to snag his grandmother.

I hope she hasn’t bossed you around too badly, Francis said in that deep, rich, velvety voice that Rosemary missed so much while she was in Europe.

She looked back into those chocolaty eyes, and felt her face smile. She shook her head. Your grandmother is a treasure. She walked in the door, and promptly told me of all the fashion mistakes I’m making wearing leggings under a sweater dress. She didn’t like the cowl neckline, but did tell me that the dusty purple color was good. Rosemary shook her head again. Makes me miss my own grandmother.

Francis smiled tightly. The woman is opinionated, that’s for sure.

Mick and I are going to go up and relieve Grandpa’s audience, Ryan told her, snagging a piece of cucumber Rosemary had sliced for the salad. You wanna come up and see the Senator, Francis?

Francis blinked at Ryan. Thanks, but I’ll stay down here and keep Rosie company. Another time.

Ryan shrugged. Suit yourself. Rosemary caught his look. What time is dinner?

Rosemary held her breath against the butterflies suddenly flying through her midsection at the notion of Francis keeping her company. The nurses want to bathe Grandpa before they put him to bed, so I’ll take up the first part in about an hour.

Great, Mickey said leading the way out the door. We’ll get our stuff out of the car when he’s down for the night.

Silence descended on the room with the departure of the duo. Rosemary walked to the wall oven to check the chicken.

How’ve you been, Rosie? Francis asked from behind her, that velvety voice washing over her soul.

She reached for the oven mitts to pull the chicken out of the oven trying desperately to keep her hands from trembling. Okay, all things considered, she said putting the bird on the cooktop, and reaching for the aluminum foil.

How’d you manage to get away from Zurich for the semester? he asked sounding most interested.

Rosemary shrugged, and covered the chicken with aluminum foil to let the meat rest before carving it. I took a leave of absence. The conservatory was pretty understanding.

You still playing that del Gesu violin that your grandfather bought you?

Rosemary looked over her shoulder and sucked in a breath at the sight of Francis leaning on the counter of the island. His eyes were warmly interested, and his expression open, a tractor beam of sorts, drawing her in. He radiated something primal, at least to her. Something like animal magnetism. Now that he had filled out, the word hot came to mind. He was, finally, a self-confident, and beautifully gorgeous man. It was a far cry from the computer nerd she knew all those years ago. Yeah, she answered turning back to light the fire under the potatoes that were on the stove waiting to be boiled. But probably not for long.

Why’s that? he asked, open curiosity in his tone.

She looked back at him. Puppy dog eyes gazed back at her. Damn, she thought. He still had that look in his arsenal. Because, technically, it belongs to my grandfather. And since it’s one of the estate assets, it will most likely be sold when the estate is liquidated.

Francis’ eyes narrowed. What do you mean it’s part of the estate? I was there when he gave it to you for your seventeenth birthday.

Rosemary sighed. If anyone would understand, really understand the challenges involved with her beloved violin, it was Francis. She knew that to the depths of her soul. Yes, but since it’s over two hundred and seventy years old, and worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, Grandpa kept the legal provenance in his name. She crossed her arms. I think you know why.

She watched Francis straighten, and take a deep breath. Yeah, I know why. He ran a hand through his short curls. Ryan told me all about your step-father’s complaints when it comes to the estate not being sold off before your Grandpa dies.

My mother’s husband, if you please, Rosemary corrected him gently. And my Uncle Tom has been stonewalling him for years on all of this. Especially on the string instruments.

How many of them are in the collection now?

Thirteen if you count the cello Alicia is playing. Although, your brother Gabriel approached my Uncle Tom about buying it for her for a wedding present when they get married next year.

Francis smiled a little. That his brother was marrying one of her best friends, and one of the girls she used to play with in a string quartet meant that they’d probably see a lot of each other in the coming weeks. Rosemary wasn’t sure if she was exactly ready for that.

Yeah, well, Francis started, Gabe can afford it. He could be the top bidder on a Stradivarius if he wanted.

Rosemary didn’t flinch. The Pernoud boys had money coming out of their ears, and they didn’t see that as any big deal. Yeah, well, none of the thirteen in Grandpa’s collection are Strads, but they are all either from Cremona or Venice during the golden period. Right now, I’m trying to keep them all alive.

How are you doing that? he asked, curiosity in his voice.

By sitting in my Grandpa’s den between family members visiting, and playing them. Every darn one. Next weekend, Josie is going to be in town, so she, Alicia, and Marianne are coming over, and we are going to play a mini concert for him. Josie and Marianne were the other two members of the string quartet.

Francis’s eyes narrowed. And what will you do when you no longer have that violin.

Rosemary shrugged. Play my other violin, I guess. I have an American one that actually is pretty good. When the del Gesu is in the shop and I have a concert or gig, that’s the one I use. Otherwise, I might take what I have saved up, and use the cash as a down payment on something from Cremona. It’ll take years to pay off, but it will be worth it. She watched his face. Not even his eyes gave away what he was thinking.

So, all problems with your mother’s husband aside, how is he? his head indicated the second floor.

Hanging on. It depressed her to put it so plainly.

Francis’s lips thinned. Sheer will-power?

I guess, she reached to the cooktop, and turned down the potatoes. He’s still eating a little, and can walk to the den up there, but his strength is all but gone.

Francis pursed his lips. I’m sorry, Rosie. Really.

She looked at his sympathetic face. You went through this with your grandfather, didn’t you?

It was a series of strokes, but yes, he nodded. You’re never ready for it.

Voices floated into the room, getting closer as the owners of them walked toward the kitchen. Francis gave her a half smile and a wink while they waited for her mother, uncle, great-aunt, and his grandmother to make their appearance.

The first into the room was Aunt Cecilia, the Senator’s only remaining sibling. Still fairly sturdy for a woman of eighty-three years, her stoic posture, and coifed steel gray hair went with a navy plaid wool skirt, and a turtleneck under a wine colored boiled wool jacket sporting a gold Claddaugh brooch. Rosemary’s mother, Eileen Dolan Fallon Romeo, followed her. Rosemary’s mother, never exactly a fashion plate, wore simple gray slacks and a fitted pink blouse to go with her neck length shorter locks made just on the brown side of red by her hairdresser. The woman who glided into the room behind them, and stole the air from everything else, was tiny in comparison - but only in physical stature. She was about five feet tall if Rosemary had to guess, and she wore a little black sweater dress that set off her perfectly coifed silver hair to perfection. Isabella Legace Pernoud, Francis’s Nonna, gave every appearance of being the quintessential Italian woman every fashionista wished she could retire to be: stunningly able to command attention just walking into a room with a style that never quits.

That was the main reason Rosemary didn’t get upset when the old woman critiqued her outfit. Isabella Legace was known as the Grande Dame of Milan fashion. If the woman said leggings did nothing for her...Rosemary would just wear them at home. They were too comfortable to throw out.

Something smells delicious, Nonna said turning her head toward the stove. "Ahh, good, I see you let your meat rest before cutting it. Perfecto." She nodded toward Rosemary.

Why do you say that, Isabella, Aunt Cecilia asked as she picked up her purse from the counter. If the meat is done, why would you not cut it, and eat right away while it is still hot.

Isabella pursed her lips slightly. To allow the juices of the meat to remain, and cook the flesh the rest of the way through without the drying heat of the oven. Rosemary watched the old woman consider her aunt. You did not learn to cook?

Aunt Cecilia shrugged. I always lived with family so I didn’t have to. She turned to Rosemary’s Uncle Tom who had quietly walked into the kitchen carrying Aunt Cecilia’s coat, and wearing a squall jacket over his dark trousers and plaid shirt. Ahh, Thomas. Good. I need to be back at the complex before too much longer. The staff does not wait dinner long. Since I am on a strict diet, I must be back before they finish serving.

Rosemary’s eyes met her mother’s. Eileen’s all but rolled into her head.

Yes, ma’am, Uncle Tom said walking to the back door, and opening it for her. Do we need to stop anywhere for you on the way?

No, dear, Aunt Cecilia pulled on her gloves. Your sister is picking me up for that on Tuesday. I need something suitable for a state funeral- the door closed behind the pair.

That woman, Isabella Legace began, missed her calling. She should have been a nun.

Chuckling under her breath, Eileen asked, Why do you say that Mrs. Pernoud?

She’s an eighty three year old virgin who has no idea how to be self-sufficient. She would have been better off living in community where all the people who have never had to make their way in the world do is sit in judgement of everyone else, and use their habits to project their moral authority about that which they know not.

Rosemary risked a glance at Francis who was desperately trying not to laugh. His eyes were lit in the way she loved, mirth simply flowing from them. But, lo and behold, his grandmother was not done. Well, at this point, the sisters who actually wear habits aren’t that bad, but the ones who dress like Cecilia are, Nonna declared. She shook her head, and looked at Rosemary’s mother. You’re going to have your hands full with her.

Eileen smiled. Yes, we are. Believe me when I say Tom and I are quite aware.

Good. At least you understand that. The old woman looked to Francis, and then back to Rosemary. Her eyes narrowed as she looked back to Francis. "Francesco, it is time for us to return to your brother’s house. My coat is there. She indicated the hall tree in the corner of the room. You will have time to be with Rosa another day. I need the quiet of my suite."

Francis walked to the corner of the room with those wide shoulders perfectly straight, and his stride purposeful before returning to hold the coat open for his grandmother to slide her arms into the sleeves. "Rosa, bella, another time we will visit, and I will taste your pollo. It truly does smell heavenly."

Thank you, Mrs. Pernoud, Rosemary said with all sincerity.

Isabella’s gaze rose for her eyes to meet Rosemary’s. You call me, Nonna, ehn. And the next time I visit, some Vivaldi would not be amiss. Your grandfather needs to hear the Baroque.

Rosemary smiled. I will put it on the concert program for next week. Nonna’s eyebrow raised. My friends who used to make up the string quartet with me will be here to play for him.

Ahh, Nonna smiled. "Va bene. I may invite myself for the performance." She looked at Rosemary’s mother.

Eileen smiled. Of course, we would love to see you.

"Excellemente, Nonna exclaimed. Francesco, it is time. She started for the door, and turned to wave back at the room. Ciao."

Francis followed her, and turned back. His eyes met Rosemary’s. See ya latter. He winked at her.

Bye. Rosemary watched them leave before turning back to her mother.

What do the nurses say today? Rosemary asked now that they were alone.

Eileen gave her a tight smile. They say that he is eating less, and getting him into the chair in the den is getting more difficult. She pulled out a stool under the counter, and sat. Would you do me a favor and make me a cup of coffee? I’m barely awake.

Rosemary went to the single cup brewer, and turned it on.

Her mother continued. I don’t know how much more I can take before I move in with either your brother or Uncle Tom, she confessed. Rosemary looked back to her mother who heaved a huge sigh. Tony wants me to sign off on a new plot of property, and plans for a new house.

Rosemary considered her mother. It was the great secret of the Fallon-Romeo house, that Eileen Fallon and Tony Romeo