If The Shoe Fits

by Fennell, Judi

  It was on the tip of Staci’s tongue to say, “Brains,” but Drew would think she meant both of them and that so wasn’t true. Instead, she shoved open the door to Casteleoni’s, bracing herself as she always had ever since Mother had told them she was going to marry Sal.

  The fact that Mother hadn’t met the man before her declaration had been beside the point. Mother had known about the accident, his wife’s death, and, most importantly, his lucrative business. It hadn’t been hard to then make events go the way she’d wanted. Mother never had any trouble making things go the way she wanted, which, at times, was majorly annoying. Just once, Staci would love to be able to beat her at something.

  Though, actually… Mother had managed to snag a guy who owned merely a diner. Had it been a nightclub or a four- or even three-star restaurant, that’d be something different. But, nope. Diner.

  Staci was setting her sights much higher—like six-foot something with a broad set of shoulders, a face worth looking at every day, and a great car. Mr. Gorgeous had to be made of money.

  She’d find out for sure from Cindabella. The cook. Staci always got a giggle over that one. If she were Bella, she would have sold her shares in this place eons ago and be off living the high life somewhere. She’d never understand why someone would elect to bury herself in this hole of a town or greasy snack joint for the rest of her life, subjugating herself for the good of a sister.

  And for what? Staci looked around and grimaced. To keep this place operational so some screaming brats could smash cookies on the floor? Or for Mr. Comb-Over over there to meticulously count out his tip to the last penny for a stupid egg sandwich?

  Oh no, this was not for her. She was going somewhere. And with someone. Preferably Mr. Tall and Gorgeous with the car.

  Drew waved to Nicky Napoli and ditched her. As if that was such a loss. The last thing Staci cared about was being abandoned for some pumped-up, undershirt-wearing, beer-swilling, ‘roided-out deadbeat.

  Seeing her stepsister’s ponytail disappear into the kitchen, Staci headed that way, trying desperately not to touch any of the locals. She shrank against a booth as wayward hands dripping with syrup attached to a three-year-old danced past her. She skirted around a mountain of a man overflowing one of the tiny chairs, his lips smacking as he licked each of his fingers. Staci covered her mouth to keep her own breakfast down. Once past that obstacle, she saw Mrs. Angelelli step back to allow her to pass, a tiny smirk on the woman’s face.

  As if Staci cared that the distaste was a two-way street. As soon as she found out what Bella knew, she was out of here.

  ***

  Bella popped out from the kitchen and caught sight of Staci. She sucked in her breath. Both stepsisters seeking her out in two days? Something was up in the heavens—not that she hadn’t figured that out about two seconds into that kiss with Reese—

  She would not think about that. Especially not around Staci. If the girl got even a whiff of Bella’s interest in a guy, it’d be all over. Staci’s mission in life seemed to be to make her life miserable and she’d stolen more than one boyfriend. True, it’d been in high school when what Staci had been willing to do went a lot farther with boys than hand-holding on the front porch, but Bella wasn’t about to test the theory when it came to Reese.

  Of course, the fact that she shouldn’t be interested in Reese should play a part, too. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about being second best.

  But a contract was a contract. She could worry about her injured ego once Sophia was safely away from Madeleine. “What are you doing here, Staci?”

  “Some guy outside said he had a meeting with the caterer.”

  Some guy? Staci must have passed Reese and now she wanted info. Bella slid past her to deliver another plate of food and plastered a smile on her face. Staci would never know that she gritted her teeth behind it. “Yes, well, we’re discussing Casteleoni’s doing a charity event.” The word “charity” was sure to derail Staci’s interest. Her stepsister didn’t have an unselfish bone in her body.

  But Reese’s attraction must have been too great (as Bella could confirm) because Staci wasn’t giving up. “Oh, what event is that? Maybe Mother has tickets for it.” The question rolled off her tongue, sugar-sweet, like molasses in July.

  Bella gave in; Staci was like a dog with a bone when she wanted something. “It’s an auction for Community General. His name is Reese and he’s—”

  “Reese? Ohmygod. It’s him!” Staci lost her smug look on the first gasp. “I knew he looked familiar.” She actually laid a hand on Bella’s arm. That was a first. “You do know who he is, right? Reese Charmant?” Her eyes widened, the heavy mascara giving her a heroin-chic look that was anything but chic.

  Yes, Bella knew who he was—or rather, she knew who the owner of Promotional Sports was and his connections to the industry. It was one of the reasons she’d wanted to win the catering job; if she could hook up with him, she’d get enough business to fund the custody battle.

  But she also knew from experience that Staci was going to tell her whether she wanted to know or not. Her stepsister loved lording anything she could over her—and wouldn’t she just love to spill her own knowledge of Reese? How he tasted, how he smelled, how he could overwhelm her with a sigh, and make her tremble with a kiss.

  Probably not a good idea. Staci would only use it to her advantage and Bella’s disadvantage somewhere along the line, and feeling those things about him was disadvantage enough.

  “He’s the quarterback who won us the Super Bowl.” Staci spun around, drama flailing from every fingertip, almost smacking poor little Michael Spaccone in the face. “He’s a hero in this town. A very good-looking hero.” Staci slid into an empty booth. “And now you’re working for him? Hmmm…” Staci strummed her nails on the table, the clickety-click of acrylic punctuating her thoughts. “It’s going to be a big event, isn’t it?” Clickety-click. “With lots of people. Wealthy people always to go to those things.” Clickety-click. “You’re going to need lots of help.” Clickety-click.

  An idea was forming and Bella would bet she wasn’t going to like it.

  She would have won that bet when Staci grinned the same Cheshire-cat smile Madeleine and Drew both had, and her nails stopped mid-clickety-click. Even with the noise of the restaurant behind her, Bella heard the ominous silence of the nails.

  “I’ll help you.”

  Oh no she would not. Staci was incompetent. With anything. Well, anything but shopping and spending.

  Shopping and spending… Hmm. Bella knew Staci as well as she knew Drew. If she said no to the demand, Staci would threaten Sophia. Same old pattern. But if she gave her something innocuous to do, well, maybe it wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

  She considered a bit longer and tried one last shot. “I doubt Madeleine will be thrilled to have you working. I thought the Board members’ families were above all that.”

  “Yeah, well, turns out Mother didn’t get the nod just yet. Seems there’s someone else in the running. She’ll actually be thrilled if I volunteer. After all, it’ll reflect well on her.”

  Unless Staci screwed it up. In which case, Madeleine wouldn’t get the position and the threat to sell would become much more real. Madeleine wouldn’t dare stay around to be publicly humiliated by her defeat. And what that would do to Casteleoni’s reputation…

  It didn’t bear thinking about. Which meant she was stuck with an assistant she didn’t want.

  “I can do the stuff on the front end, Bella. You know, meet with the client and uh...” Her river of ideas ran dry after that.

  Exactly. Staci always did have a one-track mind—

  Which might actually work to Bella’s advantage.

  “Fine. Once we decide on the menu, you can help me shop, buy, and spend money.” Staci’s holy trinity.

  “That’ll work.” Staci jumped out of the booth. “So when do we meet with Reese?”

  “We don’t. He has the proposal; it’s up to him to make the ne
xt move.”

  “That’s your problem, Bella. You should never wait for any guy to make a move. If you want something, you need to go for it.”

  Words to live by. Too bad they could have nothing to do with Reese.

  Chapter Seven

  Bella met with Mrs. DeLeo the next morning to discuss the party Drew had talked her into and was even more hopeful for the upcoming battle with Madeleine. Connie DeLeo and her husband had contacts with almost every business in this part of the state, so not only would the Sophia Custody Fund get a much needed infusion of cash, but her name would get out as a can-do caterer.

  The sun was shining through the large maple trees lining the center avenue of town as Bella headed back to the restaurant. The neighborhood teemed with people enjoying the weather. Bicyclists dodged parked cars and rode alongside the light afternoon traffic between the Main-Street- USA style storefronts on each side of—what else?—Main Street.

  Bella sidestepped two men in faded t-shirts and jeans who were leaning over a sidewalk newspaper vending machine, loudly flapping the open pages and arguing about an umpire making a bad call last evening. Two boys almost ran her over with their skateboards, and she had to do a quick hopscotch out of little Loretta Pastorius’s mad dash of a coach ride with her baby doll.

  Up ahead, Maria DeRosa was valiantly trying to grab two of her toddlers’ hands while maintaining control of a stroller with her yet-again pregnant belly. Louie Sandone had blocked off an area around Mr. Filipone’s hardware store to repair some brickwork. Rosa Angelelli was watering her window boxes on the second floor and calling out to her nephew, Joey, below not to forget the prosciutto at Arena’s or there wouldn’t be any supper for him that evening. In the midst of the comfortable chaos, Bella offered a quick hello—or in Maria’s case, an extra hand—to everyone she met.

  This was the town she loved. Home. How could Madeleine think of sending Sophia away?

  Bella mustered a smile amid that depressing thought as Maria blew her a kiss before she headed across the street with her boys. “You’re a sweetheart, Bell. I don’t know why some man hasn’t snatched you up. We could be walking our babies together.”

  Bella just waved to her high school friend and watched her waddle off. She knew, all right, why she hadn’t been “snatched up” yet: Sophia. To be “snatched,” one had to be out there to be “snatched.” She hadn’t been and didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Securing Sophia’s future was more of an immediate concern than romance.

  Across the street, Maria’s husband ran up to his wife, caught her around the waist, and planted a big kiss on her lips, then led his family into Panella’s Ice Cream Parlor.

  Though romance did have a lot to recommend it…

  Bella touched her lips, remembering Reese’s too-brief kiss. She sighed. As far as arguments went, hers wasn’t the greatest, but it was the only one she had. She just couldn’t abandon her baby sister to that woman. Lord only knew where Sophia would end up if Bella didn’t win the custody battle. Unless she kidnapped her, won the lottery, or, like Giac suggested, found a Prince Charming who wouldn’t mind using his kingdom’s unending fortune to pay Madeleine off. Or, better yet, Madeleine could eat a poisoned apple.

  Yeah, and unicorns could fly.

  Taking a deep breath, Bella opened the door to Casteleoni’s, willing the familiar atmosphere to work its magic on her frazzled emotions. The cheers of “Bella!” from everyone in the place went a long way to doing so.

  She grabbed her apron from behind the counter and tossed her purse into its hiding spot all in the same movement she’d done for years. She pulled her long hair back into its usual workday ponytail, then gathered a few used dishes and cups, and deposited them in the rinse bin, calling a quick, “Thanks, Aunt Theresa!” into the kitchen where her mother’s oldest friend balanced three plates.

  “Not a problem, sweetie.” Her pseudo-aunt blew her an air kiss. “Glad I could help out.” She walked into the dining room and nodded to booth nine. “I’ll just get this on over to Tony and Rose and that cute little grandson Petey of theirs, and then I’ll be on my way. Did everything work out with Mrs. DeLeo?”

  “Yes, it did. Although I’m going to be pretty busy for the next few nights.” Bella wiped down Mr. Campanale’s place and collected his tip. She had to smile. Every day for the five years since Mrs. Campanale had passed away he would come in, order the same meal, and leave a fifty-cent tip. And Bella would throw the quarters in the big mason jar under the sink. There must be close to nine hundred dollars in there. She’d tried to return it to him many times, but he wouldn’t hear of it—told her to use it for something special. She hoped he’d consider Sophia’s Custody Fund special enough.

  Aunt Theresa returned from delivering the meal and removed her apron. She folded it and placed it on the counter. “Anytime you need us to watch Sophia, just call, honey.” She patted Bella’s cheek, giving it a little pinch. “Such a good girl you are. Your mama and papa must be smiling down from Heaven, so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Theresa. I may take you up on that offer.”

  Lunch rush was upon her and Bella found herself wishing Aunt Theresa had stayed. With the warmer weather, people were leaving their offices and taking walks along the shop-lined avenue. Thankfully, Gus was back in the kitchen and Bruno, her busboy, walked through the door at just the right moment.

  “Afternoon, Ms. C.” he said, tipping a non-existent hat her way.

  “Hey, Bruno.” She tossed him an apron.

  When he raised his arm to catch it, Bella saw a small elf of a man behind him. Barely five feet tall with a bald head speckled with age spots amid a sea of wrinkles, he wore wire-rimmed glasses that magnified startlingly brilliant emerald eyes. Laugh lines ringed his mouth and a deep dimple winked in his left cheek. He looked like a leprechaun, an unusual sight in their little-Italy neighborhood.

  “Good morning, sir.” Bella always liked to welcome new guests personally. “Welcome to Casteleoni’s. What can I get for you today?”

  His smile grew wider, although Bella wasn’t sure how.

  “Well, hello, lass.” No brogue, but the lass only added to his leprechaun-ness. “This is a fine place you have here.”

  “Thank you. We’re glad you could join us.” She cleaned a spot for him at the counter. “Are you new to the area or just passing through today?”

  “Well, you might say a little of both. I’ve set up my shoe store down the street a ways. We’ll see how it goes.”

  “In the old Colantonio shop?”

  “That’s the place. Heavenly Shoes, I call it.” He thrust his hand over the counter. “Jonathan Griff, at your service.”

  Bella shook it. “Bella Casteleoni. Welcome.”

  He studied her. “What a perfect name for you. It means beautiful.”

  A much better association than the one Staci and Drew had come up with. “Actually, my name is Lucinda Isabella, but it’s such a mouthful that everyone calls me Bella.”

  The man nodded. “Like I said, a perfect name.” He took a seat at the counter bar. “So, I heard the place is known for its specials. What is it today?”

  Bella was grateful for the change of topic. The nickname was a sore subject. Her mother had declared her daughter to be her princess, so she’d been named after one. Why that one, Bella had no clue. Why not Grace or Caroline or Elizabeth? Nope, she got the fictional symbol of perfection. And all the accompanying fairy tale mumbo jumbo.

  She offered Mr. Griff some menu suggestions, purposely omitting the now-back-to-work Gus’s creation du jour. No need to scare the new guy off on his first day. She served him his tea with the splash of vanilla he requested and scones with a generous helping of whipped cream, then settled back into her routine of refilling coffee mugs and wiping down booths, smiling when she heard a pair of familiar voices enter.

  “Bella!” they said in unison.

  “Hey, Perla. Hi, Harry.” Her partners in gastronomic crime headed for their favorite booth. Be
lla had commissioned a plaque proclaiming it theirs last week and couldn’t wait to surprise them with it. It was the least she could do to show her appreciation for their loyalty to Casteleoni’s.

  She leaned toward them with a conspiratorial grin. “Gus has a new treat for you today.”

  Perla beamed at Harry’s less than enthusiastic moan.

  “Aw, come on, Har.” Perla flicked a lock of hair off her husband’s forehead. “It can’t hurt and it does make him happy.”

  “And gives you your mad money, to boot,” he muttered.

  “Oh, hush.” She tapped his arm as he lifted his coffee. It sloshed over the edge of the mug so she took the rag from Bella’s apron pocket and mopped up the spill. “It’s our good deed for the day, just like Father DiGennaro says.” She slapped his arm lightly with the rag, then handed it back to Bella, who was valiantly trying not to laugh. These two sounded just like Giac and Gus. “It smells wonderful in here. Like apples. No, wait. Cranberries. No. Hmm, I can’t place it. What is it today, love?”

  “Um...” Bella bit her tongue to prevent herself from laughing long enough to get the answer out. “Carrot waffles.”

  Harry had no such compunction and groaned, long and loud, before dropping his head onto his crossed forearms on the table.

  Perla’s mouth twisted as if she’d sucked on a lemon. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t encourage him quite so much.”

  “Or you could direct him to other, less dangerous, pursuits,” said her husband.

  “Hmmm.” Perla tapped a bright red manicured nail against her equally bright red lips. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  Before Perla could continue that thought, Bella headed off to get them Gus’s special and enough coffee to chase it down with. Perla and Harry couldn’t back out of their arrangement now; Gus would be devastated if no one tried his special and, so far, carrot waffles hadn’t gone over as well as the spinach donuts. And those hadn’t gone over well at all.