by Lisa Plumley
“That was because of that online attack.” Robert aimed a too perceptive look at her. “We get TV around here, you know.”
“You should be watching it more often!” Gabby flailed, clearly improvising. Poorly. “There are some good shows on. I know you didn’t ever want to retire, Dad, but now that you have—” She broke off, her attention caught by something near the back door. “Are those walking sticks? Have you two been hiking?”
This time, it was her parents’ turn to dissemble.
“Very gently,” Donna said, going back to her Sunday gravy.
“Only on the easy trails near Multnomah,” Robert added. “We’ve got to do something to keep busy during this damn forced retirement of ours. Otherwise, it’s so boring.”
But Gabby wasn’t giving in. She looked at her father closely. “Hang on a minute. I thought you—” She broke off, frowning. “You wanted to retire,” she accused. “Didn’t you?”
Uncomfortably, her father shifted. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to!” Gabby threw up her hands. She gave Robert another searching look. “Were there even any doctor’s orders? Were you ever supposed to be taking it easy?”
Robert blinked. “Taking it easy? Who ever said I should—”
“Almost ready!” Donna interrupted in a singsong voice. “Who’s hungry? I’ve got spaghetti. I’ve got meatballs—”
At that moment, Shane realized that although Gabby and her father might be identically stubborn, Shane and her mother had something else in common. They were both fixers. In a way.
Obviously, Donna Grimani had pulled some strings to make sure her daughter and her husband patched things up—up to and including a willingness to imply a medical condition that didn’t technically exist, if that’s what it took to get Gabby to come home. Donna Grimani had maneuvered things pretty deftly.
Perversely, Shane liked that about her. He liked her.
He gave Donna a private congratulatory wink. Then he took over, helping her. “I’m ready for spaghetti and meatballs,” he said, taking the heavy stockpot from Gabby’s mother. He moved it to the kitchen sink. “Everything smells delicious.”
Nearby, Gabby and Robert frowned suspiciously at one another. “Is that why you two were ducking me at the farmers market?” Gabby demanded. “Because you were fed up with Campania and didn’t want me to know you were enjoying your retirement?”
“You make it sound so despicable,” Robert grumbled. “It wasn’t like that. I hadn’t had a day off with your mother for decades! It’s not a crime to pick out some strawberries together.” He shot a fond look at Donna, then returned his attention to Gabby. “Plus, I didn’t want to get in your way.”
“He means he didn’t want to risk another fight,” Donna said as she supervised Shane draining the spaghetti. Most likely, Shane realized, Donna also hadn’t wanted to risk Gabriella discovering that the cover story her mother had used to bring her back home to Portland wasn’t technically true. “He was really upset about that argument, Gabriella. You have no idea.”
“I was fine,” Robert insisted grumpily. Then, “But maybe I should have followed you out of the pizzeria. Maybe I should have stopped you from going to Astoria. But my feelings were hurt, too!” he told Gabby. “You said Campania was a dump.”
“Not exactly,” Gabby protested. Then, more gently, “But maybe something close to that.”
They both gazed at one another, still mulishly waiting.
Shane almost admired the depth of their mutual obstinacy.
“If you were ever going to succeed at Campania,” Robert finally explained, “you had to do it your way. I knew that. So after you came back home, I tried to stay out of your way. That’s why I wasn’t there after that story aired on the news.”
“It just about killed him, too,” Donna informed them. “He was pacing, and yelling at the TV, and waving his arms.”
Robert frowned. “Only at first!” He added, “But I’ve been in your shoes, Gabriella. I took over the pizzerias from my dad, remember? Don’t you think I ever wanted to change things?”
Gabby angled her head, clearly struck by that. “Like what?”
“Like that linoleum you hate so much, for one thing.” He grinned. “It’s not as old as you think. When I finally put that stuff in, it was my pride and joy.” Robert smiled to himself, remembering. “Your grandfather hated it with a purple passion.”
Gabby laughed. “So you do understand?”
“Of course I do.” Her father opened his arms.
Gratefully, Gabby went to him. They hugged.
Shane felt choked up just watching them. He knew how much reconciling with her parents meant to Gabby.
“That’s why,” Robert said gently, after their hug, “I’ve decided to accept an offer on the pizzerias. Because I know how tough it is, and I know how much you’ve been struggling—”
“Because of Pinkie,” Donna put in. “The stories she’s told us! About the pizza oven breaking and the tomato supplier quitting and the hackers attacking and the dough being ruined—”
“An offer?” Gabby went pale. “What offer?”
“It’s complicated.” Genially, Robert waved away her concerns. “It’s still in the works.” He took his daughter by the shoulders, visibly shoring her up. “It’ll free you, Gabriella.”
“I don’t want to be ‘free’!” Gabby aimed a frantic look at Shane. “Dad, I’ve worked so hard! Please don’t do this.”
But Robert only shook his head. “Having some time off has made me think. I don’t want you to live your life the same way I did—always working, always worried about the pizzerias, never having a night or a weekend off.” His face turned nostalgic. “Don’t you think I wanted to go to your soccer games when you were a little girl? Don’t you think I wanted to celebrate your birthday on your birthday, instead of the Monday after?”
“I was fine. It’s fine,” Gabby insisted. “You don’t have to do this. Especially not now! I’ve been through so much!”
“You said Pinkie was exaggerating. Now you say you’ve been ‘through so much.’” Donna’s voice was tender. “Which is it?”
Donna glanced at Shane, appearing to expect him to shore up her latest move. But Shane didn’t have the heart to help her. Because he wasn’t sure which “offer” Robert was talking about.
Had Shane accidentally pushed his father into accelerating Waltham Industries’ takeover attempt? Had Shane cast aside his fix only to ensure that the very thing he’d been avoiding would happen now, even faster and more brutally than before?
It was possible that Gregory Waltham had already moved into the gap—that he’d already chosen a means that didn’t involve subterfuge and fixing. That he’d recognized Robert Grimani’s true Achilles’ heel—Gabby—and had worked a deal without Shane, using Gabby and her well-being as leverage.
Just then, while stuck at the Grimanis’ for dinner, Shane had no way to find out. Unless he could text Lizzy …
“It’s …” Gabby churned her arm, clearly struggling to come up with some middle ground between the truth and whatever would make her parents see things her way. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s not complicated. It’s love,” her father said stoutly. “The bottom line is, I love you too much to put you under the strain of rebuilding the pizzerias. I’m the one who let the others slip away. I’m the one who couldn’t keep them all open.”
“Only because I distracted you!” Gabby cried. “Only because I made you so upset when I left that you weren’t thinking straight. That’s why the buyout attempt almost succeeded. Because of me. It was all because of me. It was all my fault.”
Her parents both looked at her, clearly surprised.
“Is that what you think?” Donna asked. She glanced at Shane for confirmation, but he couldn’t help. Gabby hadn’t confided any of this in him. He hadn’t understood the full burden she’d been shouldering. If Gabby had felt responsible for all of it …
No wonder she�
�d worked so hard. Taken on so much.
He respected her more than ever for doing it.
“None of it was your fault,” Robert said sternly. “The plain truth is”—he shot a hesitant look at Shane, then forged on anyway—“we were skating on thin ice already. We didn’t have the capital reserves to fight off that takeover attempt properly. But now, because of this new deal that’s on the table, we—”
“I can’t believe you don’t believe in me, Dad,” Gabby interrupted, tears in her eyes. Her hands were balled up in fists, her feet already pointed toward the door. “After everything I’ve done, that you’d even consider a deal now—”
She grabbed her purse, then shook her head. “I’m sorry I came here tonight. I didn’t want to know any of this.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.” Robert’s face turned stormy. His voice raised. “It’s still my decision to make!”
“Then make it already!” Gabby yelled back. “Just don’t expect me to be happy about it. Because I’m not. I’m … leaving.” She glanced at Shane. “Come on. I’ve had enough.”
Shane held his ground. “Gabby, no. Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” She glared at him. “Stand up for myself?”
“Don’t do the thing you always do.” He stepped nearer, touched her arm, felt tension vibrate between them. “Leave.”
She shook her head. Frantically, she shifted her gaze from Shane to her parents and back again. “I have to leave.”
“No.” Gently, Shane stroked her arm. “You don’t.”
“You don’t understand,” Gabby protested. “I have to.”
“What if you don’t?” he insisted. “What if you stay?”
“I—” Miserably, Gabby shook her head again. “I don’t know.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Shane said, inadvertently channeling the wisdom of homeless Aussie Bill. “Quit it. That’s how. Just … quit it, and see what happens.”
“Quit leaving?” Skeptically, Gabby eyed him. She looked at her parents again. “But that’s all I want to do right now.”
Shane could feel her pain. In so many ways, she was just like him. When faced with trouble, Gabby wanted to leave.
When faced with difficulty, Shane wanted to “fix” things.
Maybe it would always be that way. Or maybe they could both change. Starting tonight. Starting right here.
Purposely, Shane shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been looking forward to this Sunday gravy thing.”
Just as he’d expected, Gabby looked stricken. She bit her lip, searching his face. Evidently, she saw the truth there.
“Well”—she hauled in a deep breath—“I don’t want to deprive a potential Italian of his first hit of Sunday gravy.”
Behind her, both her parents sagged with relief. Shane almost did, too. He’d struck on the right strategy. He’d allowed Gabby to save face and stay put. Sure, he’d had to exploit her desire to share her family traditions with him, but hey …
It had all been for a good cause, right?
“No, you don’t want to deprive a potential Italian of his first hit of Sunday gravy.” Or the family coziness that goes along with it. With blatant eagerness, Shane examined the dining room spread Donna and Robert had provided. “I could eat a horse!”
Donna beamed. “I like a man who eats heartily.”
“Me, too.” Robert clapped Shane on the back. “You just wait, son. Sunday gravy is like heaven on earth. One taste …” With new exuberance, Robert kissed his fingertips. “Perfetto .”
Shane was too preoccupied with Robert’s casual use of that endearment to appreciate that he’d won. Gabby had put down her purse. She’d unfisted her hands. She’d pointed her feet to the table and come into the dining room to rejoin her family.
Son, Shane heard again. Son.
What would it be like to hear that word spoken so kindly, so freely and affectionately, for the rest of his life?
It was practically unimaginable. Yet it was happening.
With Gabby, Shane had found the woman of his dreams. Maybe, if everything went even better than he’d hoped, he could find the family he’d always wanted, too. Maybe he could be worthy of them all. Maybe he could win bigger than ever before.
If his father’s company wasn’t the one that had made Robert agree to an offer. Otherwise, Shane’s days of hiding his work as a fixer were ticking away fast.
Chapter Sixteen
Stuffed full of delicious food, Gabriella led Shane up the walk to her house. The porch light shone down on them, leading them past her darkened yard. The air was redolent with the fragrance of roses. Even poorly tended roses smelled good when they were the heirloom variety her Nonna Grimani had favored.
“Ugh.” Moaning, Gabriella hugged her distended belly. “I think I have a food baby. Why did I eat so much?”
“Because it was all so delicious.” Beside her, Shane smiled. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. Your parents are amazing people.” He took her hand, following her up the steps to the front porch. “It’s obvious they love you. You’re lucky.”
Gabriella nodded. “I am lucky. I didn’t really realize it before now.” Before I knew how little you had. Happy that she’d been able to share some of her good fortune with Shane, she smiled back at him. “You saved me tonight, you know.”
Shane scoffed. “That extra piece of garlic ciabatta on your plate was begging to be eaten. Don’t thank me for filching it.”
Her grin widened. “I mean you saved me by convincing me to stay.” Remembering that moment, when she’d had her purse in her hand and nothing but the urge to run like hell in her heart, Gabriella looked down at her keys. “Without you, I would have done it all over again. I would have stormed off, full of hurt feelings and stupid pride, and kicked off another disaster.”
“You didn’t kick off any disaster, ever,” Shane reminded her, being wonderful again—reminding her of the good parts of tonight. “Not tonight, and not any night before tonight, either. Your mom and dad told you so. None of it was your fault.” He squeezed her hand. “You can take it easy on yourself now.”
Gabriella couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, well … that’s going to be easy, now that my dad is making a deal for Campania.”
Technically, it was for all the pizzerias in their family’s chain, Gabriella had learned tonight. But when she’d pressed her dad for more details, all he’d said was, “It’s in the works.”
Not even Shane had been able to eke out more information. Usually he excelled at getting people to talk, to open up to him, to reveal everything. But her dad had stonewalled him.
“At least he was honest about it,” Gabriella mused to Shane, still not ready to accept that the deal was really happening—that she’d fought to save Campania only to have her dad wave a white flag in the heat of battle. “In the end, that’s all I really want from people. Honesty. Everyone wastes too much time evading the issues. Really. Just say what you mean!”
Shane let go of her hand. He looked uncomfortable.
Gabriella couldn’t imagine why. Unless he had a secret. Or was thinking about the way she’d initially downplayed the difficulties she’d faced at the pizzeria while talking with her parents. Maybe Shane didn’t want to call her on her own hypocrisy.
But that had been different. That hadn’t been lying.
That had been … protecting her parents from something they couldn’t strictly help and didn’t need to know.
Then, guiltily, Gabriella aimed her quizzical gaze in the same direction Shane was looking, and realized what was wrong.
There was a note stuck in her doorway, wedged between the door and the jamb. In the porch light’s glow, Gabriella snatched it. “Probably a diatribe from my neighbor,” she predicted, tossing a teasing look at Shane. “Someone stole a daisy from her yard. If I know my neighbor, she’s not above nasty hate mail.”
She read the note. Her lighthearted mood faded fast.
Shakily, Gabriella
thrust that scrap of paper at Shane. “It’s hate mail, all right.”
He scanned it, squinting in the low light. Gabriella knew that the words in that note—scratched out in unfamiliar, hateful script—would remain emblazoned in her mind for a long time.
I’m watching you. Close the pizzeria or you’ll be sorry.
This is your last warning.
Appearing equally shaken, Shane glanced up. His expression looked … murderous. “You’re staying at my place tonight.”
“No.” Laughing, Gabriella tried to take back the note. But Shane crunched it in his fist. “Don’t be silly. I’m not scared.”
Shane gave her a long, too perceptive look.
“Okay, I’m scared,” Gabriella admitted. Because, after all, she wasn’t stupid. “But I’m not backing down! I’m not going to let some asshole chase me away from my own home.”
“Then I’ll back down for you.” Shane took her hand. “We’re leaving.”
“No!” Gabriella wrenched out of his grasp. She took a deep breath, then faced down Shane on her front walk. It was time, as he’d said earlier, to just quit it. Just quit being defensive, quit being suspicious, quit being so reactive to every threat, real or imagined. “We already knew there’s someone targeting the pizzerias,” she told Shane. “We all talked about it while scraping down the ruined dough. It’s not news.”
“This”—Shane raised the crumpled note—“is news.”
“It’s just an attempt to scare me!” Gabriella said. “It’s a big leap from sabotaging dough to making threats. Do you really think someone is going to—I don’t know—do something to me?”
“If time is running out for them? Maybe.”
Shane’s stony expression scared her almost more than that note did. Gabriella pointed at it. “Be reasonable. Someone was targeting Campania because they wanted to run me out of business. They wanted to take over my pizzerias. Cheaply.”
Shane seemed surprised by her grasp of the situation.
