by Lucy Robin
“No worries, Paola!” Nonna takes her hand and has her sit down on the couch. “You’re not a bother at all. Would you like to join me for an afternoon coffee?”
While Nonna makes her espresso, I warm a plate of cream horns I got from Bella’s bakery.
“You know what? Let’s go to the patio. It’s nice outside,” Nonna says as she puts the coffee and the pastry on a tray.
I follow them out to set the patio table. When I turn to leave, Nonna tells me to stay. I was planning to read a book, but seeing the beautiful garden with madly blooming roses, I decide the book can wait.
Paola utters an appreciative sound when she bites into her cream horn. “The best I’ve ever had,” she says after washing it down with her coffee.
“I know!” I say. “It’s from my friend Bella’s bakery. She does have a magical way of making her cream.”
“No kidding!” Paola is delighted. “May I have the address, please?”
“Sure.” I return to the kitchen, write down the address of Creamy Affection on a piece of paper and give it to Paola.
“Thank you so much, sweetie. I’ll have Ricky take me there one day,” she says as she carefully tucks the piece of paper into her purse. She eats one more cream horn as she admires Nonna’s garden.
“Oh, I love the weather here in California,” Paola says, shaking her head with a smile. “So sunny and breezy.”
“I agree!” Nonna says, nodding. “I don’t know how anyone could live in New York. I can’t stand the humidity and the clouds over there. How long were you there?”
“Seventy-eight years,” Paola answers. “I was born there. Ricky wanted us to move here before my husband passed away, but the old man wouldn’t. And now, I’m here without him.”
“I’m sorry,” Nonna says, putting a hand on Paola’s arm. “But Ricky sounds like a good son.”
“Oh, he is. I have three children. He’s the only one who turns out all right. The others seldom remember me until they need money.”
Nonna nods sympathetically, and tells her own troubles with her daughters, namely, my mom and my aunts. “But I’m lucky to have Elena. She’s never tired of her grandma. Not that I need her to take care of me, but having a young person in the house makes me forget how old I am!”
Paola’s eyes turn to me. “I know. It does make a difference. You’re a lucky woman, Mia. And you’re a good girl, Elena. What do you do?”
“I’m a real estate agent.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Ricky, my son, is a builder.”
“Wonderful, let me know if he ever needs an agent,” I say casually, not expecting her to remember it.
“No problem,” she says as she pats my hand with genuine affection.
I guess the cream horns are my lead magnets. I have to make sure I tell Keith the next time when I see him. Wait. Why do I keep remembering him? I shouldn’t. I try to distract myself by listening to Nonna and Paola’s conversation, but soon my attention drifts away. I recall our afternoon together again. Perhaps he isn’t the asshole I thought he was?
Paola’s cell phone rings and interrupts my thought. She stands up as soon as the voice speaks on the other end. “Ricky is here. I need to go,” she says. “Thanks for the coffee and the cream horns.”
We walk her to the front of the house, where a grey Cadillac sedan is waiting on the street.
A tall middle-man in a white polo shirt steps out of the driver’s side and comes up toward us.
“That’s Ricky,” Paola says and introduces Nonna and me to her son.
After a handshake, Paola asks her son. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine,” Ricky nods. “Just a fender bender. A small scratch.”
He shows us the damage, which is actually a pretty obvious dent on the rear fender.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Paola says to her son. “I was quite worried.”
“I’m sorry, Mamma. I don’t mean to worry you.” Ricky hugs his mother before helping her into the car.
And then he waves at us before getting into the car. “Thank you so much. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
Chapter 12
Elena
Friday afternoon I get home earlier than usual. Nonna isn’t home from the senior center yet. I shower and put on makeup, making sure I put on extra layers of foundation to cover my blemishes. I let my hair down instead of putting it up. And then I find my contact lenses from the medicine cabinet and put them on.
As I admire myself in the mirror, I have a second thought. Frankly, I prefer a friend with benefits than a husband. In fact, I don’t want a husband at all. But I let Nonna and Stella’s enthusiasm carry me away, and I don’t want to disappoint them. What if Giovanni decides I’m the perfect second wife for him? With that in mind, I dig out my balconette bra.
When I put on my dress gotten the other day, my boobs look twice as big as they really are. There’s no way Giovanni will risk marrying me.
Nonna returns home when I’m sitting on the couch, checking email, and waiting for Giovanni’s call.
Her eyes light up when she sees me. “Bellissima! If Gianni doesn’t take you home tonight I’ll eat my hat.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t even have a hat.” Nonna hates wearing hats.
“True!” Nonna chuckles as she continues to examine me. “But that’s not the point. You’re so beautiful, child. It’s simply a pleasure to see you dressed up. It makes me feel young again!”
I laugh as I stand up and hug her. My Nonna has a way to cheer me. “I’ll dress up for you every day if that’s the case.”
“That’ll be great. But that’s not what I want the most. I want you to pass on your genes, Elena. I want to see more pretty girls, and I’ll dress them up like dolls. I’m sure Gianni’s tired of having boys, too.”
“Nonna!” I chide. “I haven’t even started dating him yet, and you’re talking about babies.”
“Oh, it doesn’t hurt to plan ahead.”
At precisely six, the doorbell rings, and Nonna gets to the door before I do. I stand behind her as a middle-aged man with thin hair and a large beer belly sticking out his camp collar shirt smiles at her. Giovanni is in his early forties, but he looks at least fifty and weary even in a shirt printed with vibrant designs. I guess the passing of his wife has taken its toll on him.
But of course, to Nonna, he’s still a kid. “Gianni. You little rascal, let me take a good look at you. Very well. Very handsome. Now, Elena?”
She turns to grasp my hand and pulls me to the door. “Come on. Don’t be shy. It’s not like you don’t know each other.”
I’m sure my face is as red as Giovanni’s the moment we stand face to face with each other. He manages to clear his throat as he gives me the once-over. “Long time no see, Elena, you look beautiful!”
My blush deepens, and I mumble, “Thanks. You look good, too.”
Before I know it, Nonna pushes me out of the front door. “You kids have a good time!”
I follow Giovanni to his car embarrassedly, waving at Stella, who’s standing at her porch watching us.
Giovanni opens the passenger door of his Ford Explorer and lets me into the car. It smells Tabaco, and it irks me a bit. I’ve only gone out with another smoker in my life, and it was back in high school. Shit. I don’t think I want to kiss him.
I exhale with relief as the Explorer rolls out of the block, and Stella is out of my sight.
“So, where are you taking me to?” I ask Giovanni.
“Charlie’s Bistro,” he says. “Stella reserved a table for us.”
“Oh. It’s a nice place,” I say.
“Yep. Tina, my late wife, loved it.”
“Oh really,” I say, feeling awkward. “I’m sorry about, uh, Tina’s passing.”
He sighs. “You were at our wedding, weren’t you? Time flies. I can’t believe it’s been twenty years.”
I remember the wedding as if it were yesterday. I remember seeing them exchange vows and kiss, and the toss of th
e bouquet. It was probably the only time I met Tina, and I vaguely recall a sweet girl with plump cheeks and luscious curves.
“I live in Arcadia, now, you know?” he goes on chatting.
“Yeah. Stella told me that. How is it?” I ask, knowing it’s a nice area with spacious houses.
“I love it. It’s less crowded than Pasadena. I have six bedrooms in my house. And you should see my yard. It’s huge.”
Jeez. Six bedrooms? It must be over five million. Giovanni is doing really well.
He pulls into the parking lot of Charlie’s Bistro.
Chapter 13
Keith
“So, from what I’ve heard, I really don’t think Brook’s has a chance at all,” Tiffany says to me as we meet over dinner at Charlie’s Bistro, her favorite Italian restaurant in town.
She once again confirms that Dad’s business is going downhill. “One more agent quit just last week. Now there are only three of us left in the office. The rest are all newbies and interns.”
That’s worse than I thought. “Why doesn’t he recruit?”
“He does. But with today’s market, no one wants to do 20/80 splits. I’m only getting 50/50, even though I’ve worked for him for so many years. Frankly, I want to quit, too. I just don’t know how to tell him, my dad being his old business partner.”
“Thank you for your loyalty, Tiff. Although he doesn’t deserve you,” I say to her. “You’ll always have a spot at Kelly if you’re interested.”
“Oh, thanks, Keith,” she says in a low voice that makes me nervous, and she looks at me with glimmering eyes. “But you don’t have to.”
She touches my hand, making her affection even clearer. I don’t withdraw my hand because it would be rude. I know Tiffany isn’t completely selfless when she offers her help, and she does expect some sort of payment. I feel I owe her because she’s taking a risk. Dad could be nasty if he found out her association with me.
“Be careful, though. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I say. “I don’t think we should meet near his office, either.”
“Don’t worry,” she says as she sips wine from her glass. “Your dad seldom comes to his office nowadays, and never on weekends.”
Right. Shortly after Mom passed away, Dad moved to a mansion in Yorba Linda, an hour’s drive from Pasadena. He seems to prefer spending his weekends there, at least according to Tiffany.
I go on savoring the Penne Alla Vodka the waitress brought.
A stunning looking woman in a sapphire low cut dress appears at the restaurant’s back entrance, followed by a middle-aged man with a large belly. My eyes glue to her as they wait to be seated. Her profile looks familiar. I’m positive I know her. Holy shit. She’s Elena. She isn’t wearing her glasses, her curly blond hair reaching her shoulders, and she’s put on makeup. She looks just like twelve years ago when I first saw her. My heart does a flip-flop. Blood drains from my face and other parts of my body and channels to my crotch. I shift in my seat, reminding myself I shouldn’t have these feelings for her. My attention turns to the guy next to her. I don’t know him. Who’s he? Boyfriend? His hand never leaves the small of her back as if guarding a possession. He’s probably her date. The air suddenly feels stifling, and I have to undo one more button on my shirt to breathe.
The hostess greets them and takes them to a reserved table right across the aisle to us. She smiles as she looks around, exchanging comments on the restaurant with her companion. And then, her eyes meet mine for a nanosecond, her smile freezes, and she looks away quickly, clearly not happy to see me.
“Is that Elena?” Tiffany whispers to me.
“I think so,” I say. “I’m not sure.”
I try hard not to look at her again, knowing my attention isn’t welcome. But my ears prick up as they speak.
From the bits of their conversation, I gather that they are old acquaintances rather than a couple. They know each other’s family since the man talks about his wife and kids a lot. My tension eases a bit.
I finish the remaining pasta, although barely tasting it. My thoughts are on Elena alone. I haven’t seen her since Wednesday afternoon because I haven’t been to Prestige since then. I had to take care of some business at my Altadena office. But I was thinking about her all the time. In fact, it was one of the reasons I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t trust myself. I was afraid my testosterone would rage if I saw her again—like it does now. Holy fuck. Why does she always turn me into a horny teenager?
When I’m having my Tiramisu, Tiffany’s cellphone rings and she gets up from her seat. “I’ve got to get this call. It’s a client.”
“Sure,” I say and turn my attention back to Elena.
Chapter 14
Elena
Giovanni orders Lucente, a blend of Merlot and Sangiovese, for me. I also order a zucchini lasagna that he recommends.
“Tina loved it,” he says. “She used to make it often.”
Giovanni hasn’t gotten over the death of his wife yet. It’s clear that he loved her very much since he brings her up throughout our conversation. Poor man, I think, as I listen to his rambling. Tina must’ve been a lucky woman. Her life was short but enviable, having such a kind man love her so dearly. Carlos was good to me, too, but our passion didn’t last. He remarried two years after our divorce.
Although I have sympathy for the man, I feel it’s a mistake to be on a date with him. I don’t think I’ll ever replace Tina in his heart, not that I want to replace her. I’m not even interested in him, and it feels awkward dating him. He’s a part of my childhood and adolescent memory, and I can’t imagine becoming intimate with him.
To aggravate my annoyance, I’m aware of a pair of eyes watching me across the aisle. I can’t believe I run into Keith here and I resist my urge to acknowledge him. There’re many restaurants in Pasadena. Why does he have to be here when I come, and with a date? I probably wouldn’t mind so much if I were alone or with other female friends, but the fact that I’m with a date somehow makes me uneasy. I don’t want Keith to think I’m desperate for a guy. But why should I care about what he thinks about me? I wish Giovanni had more hair and more muscles, and I wish he were younger looking. Damn. Why should I care?
I shift on my seat so that Keith isn’t within my peripheral sight. When the food arrives, my attention focuses on the pasta, which isn’t hard to do because it is delicious.
Giovanni, though, goes on chatting. He asks about my life in Northern California and my previous marriage. Not wanting to dwell on the past, I provide succinct answers and change the topic back to his life instead.
“I’m so sorry about your loss, Gianni. But at least Tina left you four lovely children.”
His sad face breaks into a smile right away. “They’re what I live for, Elena. Victor and Ricardo are already in college. Franco is going next year. And Tony, my youngest, is still in second grade. He’s the reason I …”
He stops abruptly, but I know what’s unsaid. The child is the reason he needs a wife.
I nod but do not speak. I eat my pasta and sip my wine. What can I say? I appreciate the man’s love for his ex-wife and sons, but then I wonder whether I’m the right person for him and his son. I love children and always regret not having any child of my own, but now I can’t imagine suddenly becoming the mom of a seven-year-old either.
I look around in order to clear my tangled thoughts. But as soon as I do that, I meet Keith’s eyes again. Damn. I’ve been trying to avoid them. I’ve been feeling them as I eat and talk.
While waiting for the check to arrive, I excuse myself and head for the restroom.
I retouch my makeup, apply a fresh coat of lipstick, taking my time. I need a moment to be alone, away from Keith’s stares and from Giovanni’s chattering. The date is a mistake. I don’t think I want to be Tina’s substitute. I can’t. I don’t think Giovanni is okay with a casual relationship either, because clearly, he’s looking for a mother for his son. My mind is set before I grab the handle of the rest
room door. I would not go on a second date with Giovanni, even if he wanted it.
As soon as I pull the door open, a strong hand grabs me. I haven’t had time to scream before I’m pinned against the wall in the hallway that’s separated from the restaurant by a double-door. When I see the face of the man, I gasp. “What the hell are you doing? Keith?” I say in a trembling voice. We’re so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. He smells vodka and spice. My cheek is an inch away from his broad shoulder. He’s pressing both of my hands on my sides, trapping me.
“Let go of me,” I plead, my heart racing and my breath shallow, even though I’m not in real danger. I can struggle and scream if I want to. But I don’t move.
Keith gazes at me with his fierce blue eyes. “Who’s that guy, Elena?”
My legs wobble. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is,” he says. “You’re my employee. I need to know your whereabouts. Who you associate with…”
“He’s my date,” I say. “Now, let go of me.”
His grip tightens on my hands. He moves closer to me, his eyes intense as if he’s going to devour me. His lips barely brush against my cheek before they move to my ear. “A date, huh? Is that why you’re looking so fucking hot?” he whispers into my ear.
Oh God! My nerve endings vibrate just by the tone of his voice, and his heavy, scorching breath nearly liquefies me. I feel so weak that all I want is to lean against his chest. But I recall the evening twelve years ago. That Keith was impulsive and irresistible, just like this. I felt exactly the same as I do now. The bastard is a player. I remind myself. He’s here to mock me and to mess me up.
I put my palms against his chest to push him away from me, but he grasps my wrists in one hand and pins them on the wall above my head. And then he leans closer to kiss my collarbone. The feathery touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I gasp. He trails his lips along my neck and my cheek, making me writhe with heat. When his hand molds my breast through the thick cup of my bra, a moan escapes my throat. At the same moment, his lips cover mine.
