The Sassy One
Page 10

Francesca took another bite of scone, then crossed to the cupboards above the dishwasher and grabbed a glass. “Is this your way of telling me my cooking has style but no substance? I was thinking of taking a class on Chinese cooking this summer.”
“We’re telling you that if you want to win a man’s heart, come by and pick up some ravioli,” Grandma Tessa said cheerfully. “I always have them in the freezer, along with a nice, thick meat sauce.”
Winning a man’s heart was not a place she wanted to go. “Did Mia’s flight get off all right?” she asked to change the subject.
“You just missed her call to say she’d arrived in Washington,” Grammy M said. “I know she’ll enjoy her language course, but we’ll all be missin’ havin’ her around.”
“I’m sure she’ll miss us, too,” Francesca said, then remembered Mia’s plans to hang out with congressional aides. Somehow under those circumstances, she thought her very pretty little sister might be too busy to be homesick.
She reached for another scone, only to have her hand slapped by Grandma Tessa. “Brenna’s out in the vineyards, so you’ll have to set the table yourself. Wash your hands first.”
Francesca laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her grandmother turned to stare at her. Dark eyebrows drew together as Grandma Tessa tried to look fierce.
“I love you both very much,” Francesca said impulsively, hugging the Grands before moving into the hallway and the bathroom tucked under the stairs.
“Use the good china,” Grandma Tessa called after her.
“You’ve been on your own a long time, dear,” her mother said, gazing at her intently.
Colleen O’Shea Marcelli was a petite woman with attractive features, dark hair, and a fashionable dress sense. Even at a casual brunch she looked well put together enough to be in a photo shoot. Francesca had slipped on a sleeveless summer dress because Marcelli daughters weren’t allowed to wear shorts or pants to dinners or any meal on Sunday. While her mother shopped at expensive boutiques that specialized in designer originals, Francesca favored the extra-reduced racks at outlet stores and the occasional castoffs from Brenna, the only one of her sisters to be within two inches of her height.
Across the large table Brenna and her grandfather talked about the coming harvest. The Grands chatted about which movie they would head out to see later, while her father, Marco Marcelli nodded at everything his wife said. Which meant her parents had planned their attack in advance.
“Five years,” her mother said. “Francesca, your devotion to Todd’s memory is a credit to your marriage, but you’re still a young woman. Are you going to mourn him for the rest of your life?”
Francesca thought about pointing out that her grandmother had informed her she was reaching the age of no return, at least in the marriage market.
For the thousandth time she thought about coming clean and simply confessing that nothing about being married appealed to her. Her marriage to Todd had been a disaster. The on-the-surface successful banker hadn’t been interested in an actual person for a wife. Instead he’d wanted only arm candy. His premature death in a car accident had led her to discover that their lavish lifestyle had been financed by credit, not income. She’d been left with plenty of debt, which had forced her to sell everything. In the end she’d walked away, not richer but wiser.
Brenna had married Jeff and had spent the next nine years of her life supporting him through medical school, internships, and residencies. She’s given up her true love—the winery—to be a good wife. Her reward? Jeff dumped her for someone younger. Yes, their parents were happy, and Grandpa Lorenzo and Grandma Tessa had been married for generations, but that wasn’t enough to convince her. As far as she was concerned, love was highly overrated and marriage wasn’t in her future.
Not that her parents would understand. Which meant they had the “why don’t you find a nice boy and settle down” conversation at least twice a month.
“I’m not mourning Todd,” she said truthfully and thought of making love with Sam the previous night. Mourning had been the last thing on her mind. Still, she wouldn’t mind skipping the lecture.
She drew in a breath. “You’re right. I do need to start going out.”
Silence descended on the table. Everyone turned to stare at her, even Brenna, who raised her eyebrows and placed her hand on her chest in mock surprise. Francesca shot her a warning look.
Grandpa Lorenzo, still tall and powerful despite his seventy-plus years, pounded on the table. “About time you realized that, young lady. You’re the prettiest of my granddaughters. When I think about all those years you’ve wasted going to college when you could have been getting married and having babies.”
Francesca was used to the lecture, but even after all this time the words stung.
Brenna’s eyes flashed with temper. She turned to her grandfather. “At some point you’re going to have to realize we’re in a new century, Grandpa. Women don’t need men to make them feel whole anymore. We’re fine on our own.”
“If you’d spent a little more time paying attention to your husband, maybe he wouldn’t have left you,” the old man shot back.
“Lorenzo!” Grandma Tessa said, and looked sympathetically at Brenna. “We know you were a good girl. We should never have let you marry that ex-husband of yours. You need a nice Italian boy. My cousin, Marie, has a grandson who lives in Chicago.”
Brenna shook her head. “No, Grandma. No relatives, or friends of relatives. I’m not even legally divorced yet. Give me a break on this, okay?”
Grandma Tessa didn’t look ready to back down. Francesca understood exactly what her sister was feeling. While she loved her family, they really knew how to get on her nerves. She decided to give them both a break.
“Have Katie and Zach set a wedding date yet?” she asked.
That got everyone’s attention. Her mother reminded her about the family meeting later in the week to get the event planned. The Grands started arguing over the menu, and Grandpa Lorenzo threw out several possible wine suggestions.
Brenna picked up a bottle of Marcelli Wines Chardonnay and poured herself another glass. She held out the bottle.
“Make mine a double,” Francesca murmured so only her sister could hear. When Brenna had filled her glass as well, they raised them to each other.
“To surviving our family,” Brenna whispered. “May God save me from Cousin Marie’s grandson.”
“International oil brokers with families and death threats should not be allowed to travel for pleasure,” Sam said wearily as he tossed a file folder onto his desk.
Jason reached forward and picked up the papers. “You’re kidding.”
“Not even close. He called yesterday.”
Jason flipped through the pages, then put the folder back on Sam’s desk. “Africa?”
“Safari. His daughter is something of an animal lover. This is part of her birthday present.”
“Couldn’t he just buy her a bike?”
Sam grinned. “That’s not how the rich and powerful do things.”
“Then get the kid a bike store. Africa?” The big man’s dark eyes narrowed. “They’re not going to stick to the tourist spots are they? Rich and powerful types like the unusual and out-of-the-way. Right?”
Sam nodded. “We’re talking about camping in the wilderness, visiting native villages.”
“I hate the outdoors,” Jason muttered. “Why can’t they vacation in Monaco? I could really get into Monaco.”
“Guess you’re going to have to go there on your own time.”
Jason scowled. “So tell me why I volunteered for this job?”
“Because you love a challenge. Want to change your mind?”
Jason picked up the folder again. “Africa. We’re talking ticks and leeches. I hate slimy things.”
“That’s the jungle. You’re going to be on the savannah.”
“Great. So I only have to worry about malaria.”
“You might see a lion.”
Jason’s scowl deepened. “Hate cats, too.”
Sam chuckled. “They’re leaving in September. You have that long to put together the team. He’s letting you pick them all. His regular protection is going on vacation.”
“Bet they’re not planning to hang out with ticks.” Jason sighed. “At least I don’t have to worry about some pantyass European bodyguards.” He slammed the folder shut. “Hell, I’ve got to get shots, don’t I?”
“There’s a list in the back.”
Before Jason could complain any more, a familiar uneven footfall sounded in the hallway. Step, clunk, slide. Step, clunk, slide.
“You didn’t tell me the old man was here,” Jason said.
“I didn’t know. It’s Sunday.” His grandfather never came in on the weekend, although he still made regular appearances during the week.
“It’s Sunday, for God’s sake,” Gabriel Reese announced from the entrance to Sam’s office. “Why aren’t you all in church?”
Jason rose to his feet and nodded at the older man. “Afternoon, sir.”
“Jason. Is my grandson making you work on Sunday?”
“I volunteered.”
“Good man. I’m the one who told Sam about you. Did he ever tell you that?”
Jason grinned. “Yes, sir.”
Sam motioned to the second chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Gabriel. Do you want something to drink?”
“Whiskey, but don’t bother telling me it’s too early in the day. I’ll wait until I get home.” He braced his arms on his cane and slowly sank into the seat. “You’ve always been a good man in business, Samuel, but a real pain in the ass when it comes to my health.”
“I don’t want you dying on me.”
“I don’t plan to die on anyone,” Gabriel snapped. “I’ll be alone in my bed. That’s how men should die.”
Sam got up and crossed to the coffeepot on the small cart in the corner. He poured some in a mug, added generous amounts of sugar and cream, and carried it to his grandfather.
Gabriel took a sip, then eyed Jason, who had finally returned to his chair. “Heard you were going to Africa. Wish I were young enough to take your place.”
“Me, too,” Jason said glumly.
Sam grinned. “Jason’s concerned about the wildlife. Snakes, leeches. That sort of thing.”
Gabriel nodded solemnly. “Dry socks,” he announced. “That’s the key to a healthy safari. Oh, and plenty of bug spray.”
“Well, hell. Bugs. I didn’t think about them.” Jason eyed Sam. “I want a trip to Monaco when this is over.”
“We’ll have to see what we can do.”
Jason grunted, got to his feet, and said good-bye to both men. When he was gone, Sam leaned back in his chair.
“Elena’s sister called this morning,” Sam said. “She fell, broke her hip, and has to have surgery. Elena will have to go stay with her for a month or so.”
Gabriel shrugged. “What do I care? She’s your housekeeper.”
Sam ignored that. “I can get someone in to clean with no problem,” he told the older man. “Cooking is going to be more of an issue.”
Gabriel scowled. “I’ve been taking care of myself for over sixty years, Sonny. I can manage until my toes curl up.”
“I thought you might like to move in with me until she gets back.”
“Not even on a bet.”
Sam knew that the knee-jerk refusal didn’t mean his grandfather had made up his mind. “We could go cruising for chicks together.”