“Daddy! Did you hear what I just told you?”
“Yes, Alexandria, I did. You said that you might want to change from doing marketing. But you haven’t told me what you DO want to do yet.”
“You don’t think I wasted my scholarship? And you don’t think you wasted any money that you and Ma gave me for four years?”
He pointed to the plants again. “Shh. Alex, please … the seedlings. Sit down.”
I sat and stared at him.
“Honey, here’s the way I look at it. You worked very hard all through high school to earn scholarships to a very prestigious university, and while you were at that university you worked very hard to earn money to pay your way, and you graduated at the top of your class. Along the way, your mother and I gave you some money, sure, but it was YOU who paid the majority of your way. Whatever we gave you was not very much. Now, you have been working very hard for how many years, five? You have money in the bank, right? You don’t have unnecessary debt? Well, I’m pretty sure that you know how to manage money.
“Now you think you might want to change what you do to earn that money. Unless you tell me you want to be a hootchy-kootchy dancer or something, I think you are smart enough to make a good decision, and all the education you have had can only help you. So until you tell me what you think you want to do, I can’t give you my opinion. What do you want to do?”
“I want to be a hootchy-kootchy dancer,” I deadpanned.
“Fine, just don’t do it in this town because some of the men from our church might see you.” He didn’t miss a beat.
“Seriously, you would be okay with me changing my career?” I couldn’t delay with jokes for too long.
“What do you want to do?”
I twisted my hands together. “I think … I think I could be a chef.”
“Okay. What do you need to do for that?”
“That’s it? No lecture?”
He tilted his well-worn cap further back and began. “When you were three, you were standing on the kitchen chair, making meatballs with your Nonna. When you were twelve, you made hoagies as a fund-raiser for the cheerleaders. Whenever we talk to you out in Denver, you are always having your friends over and cooking for them. Didn’t you just cater a wedding a couple of weeks ago? And didn’t you learn how to cook Middle Eastern, Indian, all kinds of foods for all your boyfriends?”
“Well, yes, but—hey, how did you know that last part?”
“Bella, Damian told us. He also told us that this possible career change was something the two of you talked about. You think you’re telling me something brand new. Honeybunch, you already ARE a chef. You just need a restaurant. If I had the money, I’d open one for you today.”
I hugged him tightly and started to cry harder.
“Pop, you are the best!”
“Oh it’s ‘Pop’ again? And why are you crying now? We’ve fixed this, no?”
I nodded and stood up.
He picked up another seedling and the spritzer. My father was not one for drawn-out discussions. “Well, then. It’s settled. You go upstairs and fix that makeup. Although, why I ever allowed you to start wearing it is beyond me.”
I grinned and kissed the top of his head.
I had managed to evade Brady for the past two days, but I knew I had to talk to him. I called him when I came upstairs and asked him to drop by the house.
He pulled up to the house on his motorcycle, and as I sat on the swing, watching him unbuckle his helmet and stroll up the front walk, my heart caught again. Brady Doyle was indeed easy on the eyes, but I knew that I had outgrown him long ago.
He took the front porch steps two at a time and sat on the railing.
“Hey, half-pint!”
“Hey, Brady!”
“Sorry I missed the party this morning, but one of the other guys got sick and I had to take his shift.”
“No problem. Your parents let us know. Anthony and Celia totally understood.”
“So. Are you busy this evening? Want to take a ride on the bike?” He pointed with his thumb.
“That sounds really good, but no. I’m going to stick around here, since I have to take off tomorrow.”
He tilted his head quizzically.
“I thought you were going to stick around for a while.”
I shook my head and smiled. “No. I think some wires got crossed somewhere. I was only here for the weekend.”
“Cool. Are you coming back soon?”
“Well. That’s the thing. I might have indicated to you that I might be coming home for a while, but … my life really is out in Denver now.”
He just kept nodding. “Sure, sure, I hear you. To tell you the truth, Alexandria, none of us ever thought you were ever going to stick around here.”
“Well, it’s not that I don’t like anyone or anything here or anything …” I started, but faltered.
“I get it, Alex. Look, we had a couple of laughs the other night. Maybe if you come back in, we can again.”
He hopped up. “You know where to find me!”
And he was down the stairs, on his bike, and down the street to take a ride and probably end up at Pete’s. He really led an uncomplicated life.
Ma came out on the porch and sat on the swing with me.
“Was that Brady Doyle?”
“Yes.”
“He always was the best of that whole bunch.”
“Ma, did you tell Mrs. Doyle I was moving back home?”
“No, Alex. I just mentioned you were coming in early for the weekend. Why?”
“Nothing, really. She apparently told him you said I was moving back home and that the two of you wanted us to get together.”
“What!” she laughed. “Honey, don’t get me wrong. If you wanted to move back, well, we’d all love it, but we know you’re a city girl! You’d be miserable here now that you’ve been living in the city. Mary Doyle is just wishing she could have you as a daughter-in-law, considering the pieces of work her other boys have brought home.”
I laughed, remembering Melissa and her treatment of Brian Doyle the other night.
“So, Ma, it doesn’t bother you that I didn’t stay close?”
“I won’t lie and say that it was easy in the beginning, but I saw how you blossomed when you got to be somewhere where you weren’t in the shadow of Anthony and Damian.”
“I never thought of it that way, but I guess that’s part of it.” I loved my brothers dearly, but until I moved away, I never thought of myself as anyone other than Anthony and Damian’s little sister.
“Besides, when you open your chain of restaurants, you’ll be flying all across the country anyway.” She nudged me.
Hmm. Word travels fast.
“I see Pop has already broken the news.”
“Of course, honey. The secret to a good marriage is that there are no secrets. Find a man who you can share everything with, and that’s half the battle.”
There are no nondisclosure agreements in marriage, eh Cameron Grayson?
Wait. That wasn’t fair. He had to keep that “secret” for the sake of his job. And as soon as he could discuss it, wasn’t I the first one he tried to talk to about it? Come to think of it, he proved how honorable he could be by maintaining that stupid nondisclosure agreement.
Wow, how interesting that a few days could give me a little perspective.
“Ma, what do you think? With the right training, do you think I could run a restaurant kitchen?”
“I think you can do anything you want to, Alexandria. But, yes, you are a gifted cook and are naturally organized. You would be an excellent chef.”
She hugged me, and I started to cry.
Nonna walked out onto the porch at that moment.
“Why you cry? E un giorno felice! (It’s a happy day!)”
“Sto andado essere un cuoco! (I’m going to be a chef!)”
“Allora, quando aprite un trattorria, ti visite ogni serra, ma sta serra, andiamo alla cucina mia e faciamo da mangiare. (Wh
en you open your trattoria, I’ll visit every night, but tonight let’s go into my kitchen and cook.)”
My mother and I laughed.
“There you go, Alex, all the training you’ll need!”
“When will we see you around here, Sis?”
Damian was driving me to the airport the next day as promised.
“Not sure.” I looked out the window.
“Well, let us know when the first restaurant opens at least.”
I swung my head back around.
“You know, you people ought to open your own news agency or something. When something happens, boom! It spreads like wildfire.”
Damian grinned broadly.
“Come on now, did you really expect Ma and Pop to keep that to themselves? They had Tonio and me on the phone in a conference call the nanosecond you let Pop know about it!”
“What! Did they say anything bad about this, because I think I should have been included in that little conversation,” I began, sitting up as straight as my seat belt would allow.
“Calm down, Ally-Cat.” Damian ruffled my hair. I instinctively pulled away, and he laughed.
“Look at you,” he said. “You know that’s why Anthony and I started calling you Ally-Cat, right?
Whenever anyone would cross you, you would pull back and give them that look, as if you were going to hiss at them.”
I regally smoothed my fur, um, hair and stared straight ahead.
“Alexandria, the only reason they called the meeting was to let us know that we were to be absolutely supportive of you,” he soothed. “As if we would be anything but!”
“But why did they think they had to protect me? Did they think I was helpless?”
Damian threw his head back. “Alex, admit it. You know you’ve been part of one of those conversations about either me or Tonio.”
Hmm. He was right. Our parents did not play favorites in their well-intentioned meddling. Something suddenly occurred to me.
“Hey, wait. Pop knew about what was going on with my company. Did he tell all of you before I got here, and you all knew about it?”
“No. He actually only found that out on the morning of the party because he knew something was wrong with his baby girl. He scoured the back web pages of business news to see if it was work related, and found out what it was and only confirmed it with Keira right before she left for the airport. Believe me, if you hadn’t told him when you did, he would have gotten it out of you last night somehow.”
“Ah, well. That’s Pop.”
“Yep, that’s Pop. Wouldn’t have it any other way. So are you going to resign from your company?”
“I guess I have to since my group is moving to Phoenix, and I really can’t bear the thought of moving there.”
“And then what?”
“I guess I’ll get another job in Denver while I go to culinary school. It’s kind of scary.”
We drove in silence for a while.
“So,” I began, “what do you and Tonio think?”
“Alex, we think you would be fantastic. And, by the way, everyone also approves of Cam.”
“What!” I looked at him, startled. “Who said anything about Cam?”
“I did. I told them about him and about how the two of you seemed like a good match.”
“Damian, that’s crossing the line. How can you know anything about someone you met for a couple of hours in a pub?”
He gave me a shrewd look.
“I know the looks he gave you and the way he treated you at the table. I know the questions he asked about you. I know the way you talked to me about him. I also know what Keira told me.”
“Keira has a big mouth,” I mumbled.
“Keira has your best interests at heart. She knows you better than anyone outside the family. She’s very astute, and if she thinks you should give this guy a try, I trust her.”
I slumped down in my seat. “Fat lot of good all that does me now. I think I’ve cut off any chance of him even saying hello to me again.”
“How’s that?”
I relayed an abbreviated story of the conference room incident, my face growing red again at the remembrance of how I ran out after he kissed me.
“Alex, all you can do is be who you are. Take the opportunity to pray on this, and if it is supposed to work out, it will. But if you have another chance to get to know Cam, perhaps you need to take it.”
I shrugged. We had reached the airport and were unloading my luggage from his car.
“I think I’ve run out of chances, Damian. But thanks for the counseling, now and for always.”
“It’s my job. Hey! You know, it IS my job!” He attempted to lighten the mood.
After our good-byes, I stood on the curb and waved until his car was out of sight. I turned, straightened my shoulders, and walked into the airport to begin my journey into the next phase of my life.
Chapter Sixteen
At the other end of my flight, I ascended the escalator in the terminal at Denver International Airport and could see Keira waving at me near a giant fountain. As usual, she was impeccably dressed.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked, taking in my Steelers jersey (#32 Franco Harris, my oldest and favorite).
“No, Keira, this is my ‘walk into the airport terminal’ outfit. In a moment, I’ll be changing into my ‘walk to the car’ outfit. What do you mean is this what I’m wearing?
She huffed patiently. “Is that what you’re wearing to the restaurant party I told you about?”
“Keir, if it’s all the same to you, can you just drop me off at home on your way to your soiree?” I groaned. “I’m a lot more tired than I thought.”
She looked at me and paused. “Sure. No problem. Let’s get your bags and go.”
“Thanks so much. I was really expecting you to argue with me.”
“No, no, I understand. We can work around this.” Work around this? What on earth did she mean? “How was your flight?” she asked.
I told her the story of the cute family with twins sitting next to me, but got the distinct impression that she was not paying attention.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh. Look, while you wait for your bags, I need to get a Pepsi.”
“Fine.” What the heck?
I stood waiting for Keira and her apparently all-important Pepsi. She returned to the baggage claim area. But when she got close to me, her usual runway-perfect walk failed her and she stumbled—and spilled her drink all over me.
“Keira!” I exclaimed as I attempted to brush cola and ice off my jersey and leggings.
“Omigosh! I must have stepped on some gum. I hate how messy it is in here sometimes. You need to change!”
“Change? Keira, this is so inconvenient.” I rolled my luggage into the nearby ladies room. She followed me, took the luggage from my hand, and pushed me into a stall.
“Alex, you slip out of those wet things, and I’ll throw you something from your luggage.”
I handed her my dripping clothes, and over the stall door came one of my favorite lightweight sweater dresses and a pair of tights.
“Keir? This is too nice just to wear home.”
Silence.
“Keira?”
I cracked the stall door open and saw that she was nowhere around. I sighed and donned the dress and tights, zipped my boots back on, and stomped back out of the ladies room.
“What on earth?”
“I came out to find a plastic bag to put your wet things in. Oh! Look how nice you look! You know, I’ve always liked that color on you. Is it olive green? A lot of girls can’t wear that.”
“Keira—” I began, but stopped. I was too tired to argue. We proceeded to her car.
“So tell me again what your father said,” she asked.
“I thought I told you on the phone.”
“Yes, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”
I sighed and leaned back, beginning the story again. By the time we reached the exit that led to my home, I notic
ed that Keira was not moving to the exit lane.
“Keira, what are you doing?”
“What? Hmm. Missed the exit. I’ll take the next one.”
But she didn’t. I realized soon enough what she was doing.
“Keira, I see what you’re doing. You’re headed toward Highlands.”
“What? Oh, well, since we are this close, why don’t we just pop in for a while?”
I looked at her sidewise. Keira never did anything without a full-on plan. Something truly was up. A new man she wanted me to give her advice on? Well, if that was the case, I owed her, didn’t I, after all the crying on her shoulder that I had done recently.
“Fine.” I pulled the visor down. “But, yuck, I need at least a swipe of lipstick.”
She pulled my makeup bag from the backseat.
“Hey!”
“Oh, well, would you look at that! I guess I might have grabbed that out of your luggage.” She grinned.
I shook my head and applied makeup, running my fingers through my errant hair.
We reached a block near Highlands Square where new cafes mingled with decades-old shops. Keira parked on the street, and we walked to the middle of the block.
“For a restaurant opening, there certainly isn’t much foot traffic on the sidewalk,” I commented.
“It’s early,” said Keira. “I’m sure there will be more activity later.”
We stopped in front of a pleasant brick façade that was dark, with a covered sign.
“Well, no wonder,” I said. “Who would even know there is any kind of business here?”
Keira pushed open the door, and immediately we were greeted with the soft sounds of jazz. I looked expectantly around to the exposed brick walls, and noted that the small wood and wrought-iron tables were cozy with mismatched chairs, giving off the vibe of an intimate family dining room. Large black-and-white pictures were posted, pictures of families at tables in various groupings from large wedding dinners to small family Sunday meals. The whole atmosphere was one of eating at my nonna’s table.
“Keira,” I said dubiously, “I love the vibe, but I don’t think your friend is going to have much success if this is opening night. What do you think?”
I turned to get her opinion, but she had exited the door and was waving her fingers at me. She pointed toward the back of the house, to a sturdy oak bar. One patron was seated at the bar.
Love on the Back Burner Page 22
