by Ann Evans
He took a bite out of his toast and chewed so slowly that Kari knew it had to be a deliberate attempt to annoy her. Finally he wiped his mouth with a napkin, brushed bread crumbs from his fingertips and methodically poured himself a cup of coffee from a nearby carafe. Aware of a subtle vibration between the two of them, Kari noticed that the other women were watching him, too. Even his mother, who’d been keeping a keen eye on a rasher of bacon sizzling on the stove.
A ripple went through her poise as he slowly came toward her. “I’m saying that some women tend to personalize every discussion about men,” he said quietly, his meaning clear. “They react on an emotional level instead of thinking it through logically.”
“Well, I don’t think…” Kari scowled. Nick’s tone had been easy enough, almost friendly, but suddenly she wished she had never said a word.
“Yes?” he said, tilting his head at her.
“Objectively speaking—” she began, then broke off again because nothing that had been on the tip of her tongue could be considered “objective” at all. Really, it was too much, to be expected to verbally hold your own with a guy who made no bones about how much he disliked you, whose sheer presence could make you feel besieged and cornered.
Evidently he decided to let her off the hook. “Objectively speaking,” he repeated, “wouldn’t you say that our honeymooners deserve to have a second cup of coffee? That is part of the reason you’re here, isn’t it?”
Her lips compressed, Kari watched him as he went past her, his attention now fixed completely on his sister. “How are you feeling?” he asked, taking a moment to massage Addy’s shoulders.
“Sore,” she replied. “And tired. I was hoping Mom would serve me breakfast in bed this morning.”
“Then you should have slept in the kitchen,” her mother said.
That comment brought a laugh from everyone, and some of the tension seemed to dissipate. Kari took a deep breath, snagged a pot of coffee off one of the hot plates and retreated back to the dining room and her newlyweds.
She cursed whatever gods had tossed Nick D’Angelo in her path, then cursed herself for letting him get to her. Whenever she was around him, why did she feel exhilarated and, at the same time, filled with a sharp, nameless anxiety? Kari had known infuriating men before, but Nick D’Angelo was in a league all his own. During her stay here—however long it lasted—she’d be well advised to keep her distance.
The newlyweds were still discovering one another and had no interest in more coffee. Since she didn’t want to look as though she was avoiding Nick, Kari returned to the kitchen. Sam D’Angelo came through the opposite set of double doors at the same time.
“Where have you been this morning?” Sam greeted his son.
“Checking on the damage to Raven One,” Nick replied. “Talking to the insurance company about what they’ll cover.” A slight pause. “And what they won’t.”
Kari tried to concentrate on the cups of fresh fruit that Renata placed on her serving tray. She didn’t let her gaze drift even one degree to her left, but she could feel a flush stealing up her neck. It would probably be a long time before any conversation about helicopters wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.
“…should have discussed it with me,” she heard Nick say over the noise in the kitchen.
“I’m still the head of this household,” Sam said. “I didn’t need anyone’s permission.”
Neither of the men even glanced her way. Kari happened to catch Sofia’s eye. The older woman tried to smile at her, but it didn’t really work. In front of the stove, Rose seemed suddenly determined to distract her. She pointed to the omelets solidifying in the pan. “These should get your newlyweds’ attention,” she told Kari. “Even lovers have to eat.”
Across the big room Nick and his father were now embroiled in a low, heated discussion. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it concerned her. She slowed her movements, straining to hear, alternately feeling stung and annoyed.
Renata touched her arm, then slid slices of oranges onto the plates. “You’ve done very well this morning,” she said.
“Thanks. Like riding a bicycle, it all came back to me once I found my rhythm.”
“We have check-ins today. Dinner will be busier.”
“Oh, boy. I can’t wait.”
A moment later Rose called across the room, “Nick, stop upsetting your father and come fix this drawer. I’m tired of things falling out every time I open it.”
Kari picked up the tray and headed out of the kitchen. She couldn’t help smiling a little. She wasn’t sure why, but clearly the D’Angelo women were on her side, protective and determined to defuse any unpleasantness. If Nick wanted her gone, he might have to wade through them to make it happen.
As Rose had predicted, the newlyweds discovered their hunger and became demanding enough to keep Kari on her toes. When they finally finished and left the dining room hand-in-hand, she removed the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
The argument between father and son seemed to have been settled or at least deferred. Both men were busy—Nick had gone to get a ladder and Sam was sorting through a small toolbox on his lap, grumbling under his breath in Italian.
Kari joined Renata at the kitchen sink. “Is it safe to be in here?” she asked the older woman in a soft voice.
Renata gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t let their squabble upset you. Nick and his father often go head-to-head. Usually at the top of their lungs. We’re used to it.”
“You’ve all been very kind to me.” She grimaced, thinking of Nick. “Well…almost all of you.”
“Addy is fond of you,” the woman replied, and Kari suspected that was as good a recommendation as anyone was likely to get.
“She’s very sweet.”
Renata smiled a little, something she didn’t seem to do very often. “And we all agree that your presence here may be just the thing our Nicholas needs.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Since you wear no ring, can I assume you’re single?”
Kari jerked back a little. Was this woman implying what Kari thought she was implying? “Yes, I’m single,” she said. “But wait a minute—”
Renata left her side, heading off for parts unknown. Kari stared after her a moment. Surely the family wouldn’t try to play matchmaker for her and Nick. A more futile effort she couldn’t think of.
The breakfast rush over, Rose put Kari to work at the electric slicer, cutting meat and cheese. Since she wasn’t officially turned over to Sofia until noon, Kari was glad that the wicked-looking apparatus required all her attention. It allowed her to ignore Nick completely.
Well…almost completely. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t aware of him each time he entered the room—coming and going, no longer in conversation with anyone, really, just a solid, silent presence who seemed determined to keep to himself.
She watched him change light bulbs, re-hang Rose’s drawer, work on the plumbing under the big double prep sink. And now, his ladder positioned right beside her, he was repairing the refrigeration unit on top of one of the coolers.
Every time Kari slid a glance to her right, she ran into the sight of his firm rear end and long legs covered in comfortable-looking tan slacks on the ladder. Really, it would have taken a much stronger woman than Kari not to notice six-feet-something of incredibly graceful, masculine power.
Her slicing completed, she was seated at the table, wrapping wedges of cantaloupe in delicately thin slices of proscuitto that would then be wrapped with plastic and placed in a cooler. Kari had quickly learned that almost anything edible in the kitchen was up for grabs unless Rose designated it for guests—as long as you asked first.
Just as she heard her stomach growl a second time, Renata motioned toward the bowl. “Mange! Eat. You look hungry.”
When Kari reached for a spoon from a nearby tray of silverware, Rose was suddenly beside her, offering a small fork with a flourish. “You must always use a fork. The back of the spoon
anesthetizes the taste buds.”
Kari nodded, then speared several pieces of cantaloupe onto a small plate. In another few minutes, Rose placed an omelet in front of her. Kari had to admit, it was one of the best she’d ever eaten.
“You seem to know a great deal about cooking, Mrs. D’Angelo,” she said around a mouthful of cheese-and-mushroom-laced egg.
“I learned from the cradle. It was self-defense. My mother was terrible in the kitchen. She didn’t cook, she assassinated food.”
“I had my doubts that she was truly Italian,” Sam said. “Rosa’s mother cooked for me just once, and she told me there were only two things on her menu—Take It or Leave It.” When Kari laughed at that, Sam realized he’d found a receptive audience. “The meal was so horrible,” he continued, “I thought I would have to have my stomach pumped afterward.”
Rose turned, favoring her husband with a mock-threatening look. “I noticed you ate every bite.”
Addy grinned at Kari. “That’s because he was in love. Weren’t you, Pop?”
“I’m not ashamed to admit it,” Sam said with a shrug. “I would have eaten the tablecloth to impress your mother.”
Sofia, who had been silently polishing the espresso machine, suddenly spoke up. “Tell Kari how you met our sister and convinced her to marry you.” She gave Kari a sweet, girlish smile that made her seem years younger. “It’s so romantic.”
From the top of the ladder, Kari heard a weary sigh. Evidently, Nick didn’t find the tale a bit romantic, or he’d heard it too many times to find it interesting anymore. Killjoy, she thought. It wouldn’t surprise her to discover that he didn’t have a passionate bone in his body.
“It was fate,” Sam said, seeming to warm to the subject. “My family owned a few tourist cabins near the Lightning River. It’s a very beautiful spot, but also very treacherous. So many storms, and the river used to overrun its banks before the government came in and rerouted it. That’s how the river got its name, because it ran so jagged—like a bolt of lightning.”
“Skip to the good part,” Addy coaxed.
“One day a family checks in for a two-week stay. Tourists from our very own Italy, eager to see the Rocky Mountains with their three beautiful daughters. Rosa was the youngest, so shy and sweet, and I fell in love with her instantly. Unfortunately she didn’t return my feelings.”
“He was much too bold,” Renata said from the sink.
“I was determined,” Sam refuted with feeling.
Addy, who had been sorting through bunches of parsley using the tips of her fingers, tapped her father’s forearm in gentle reproach. “Just tell Kari what happened to change Mom’s mind.”
“Patience,” Sam said affectionately. “I know how to tell the story.” He looked back at Kari. “One day a storm comes up, a very bad one. Everyone stays in their cabins, waiting for it to blow over. I knew it would last a long time and I was in the courtyard, throwing the pool furniture into the pool to keep it from blowing around.”
“We do that in Florida before a hurricane,” Kari said, which got her a frown from Addy for interrupting. She obviously liked this story as much as Sofia. Atop the ladder, Nick continued to struggle with the cooler motor.
Sam squinted and placed a fingertip to the corner of his eye. “Suddenly I see the car from Cabin Two pull out into the pouring rain. It’s Rosa.”
Rose had turned from the stove, still whipping eggs into a golden froth. Her dark eyes sparkled as they looked at Kari. “My mother had an upset stomach and I was going into town to get her something for it.”
“It was so foolish,” Sam said. “I knew the danger. I rushed to my parent’s truck to go after her. A few miles down the road I see a tree fall right in front of her car.” Sam made a wild pantomime of Rose’s driving. “She swerves, and her car goes into the river.” He placed one hand against his chest. “My heart nearly stopped right then.”
“So did mine,” Rose said. “The car began to sink immediately, and I was sure I was going to be swept downriver and drowned. I crawled onto the hood. The next thing I know, I see this maniac inching out onto an overhanging tree limb.”
“It’s my story,” Sam complained. “Let me tell it.”
Kari smiled. The head of the D’Angelo family certainly knew how to milk a story for drama. She was enthralled, captured by the images the older man could create with nothing more than his voice and a few hand gestures.
“The wind was whipping water into my eyes so I couldn’t see a thing,” he said. “The limb was bobbing up and down. It was like riding a tiger, but I couldn’t go back.” He extended his arm outward. “I stretched out my hand for her to grasp, but she wouldn’t take it. She was too afraid that I couldn’t hold on to her against the current.”
“Anyone would be frightened,” Rose interjected.
“Finally I shouted to her, ‘Rosa Pascale, take my hand. I am descended from angels who kept dragons from destroying the town of San Marino in the old country. Have faith, my dearest heart. I will not let you go.’”
As if no one knew how the story would end, there was complete silence in the kitchen. Even Nick had stopped tinkering with the motor and was listening, his arms draped over the top of the ladder.
Finally, Addy spoke up. “And you did it, didn’t you, Mom? You jumped across the distance and caught Pop’s hand.”
“It was a leap of faith,” Rose said, her eyes fixed lovingly on her husband. She came across the distance that separated them until she stood behind her husband’s wheelchair. Then she bent low to capture him in a hug. Softly she said, “Samuel saved my life that day, and he has been my salvation ever since.”
Kari had to swallow hard to get past the lump in her throat. The D’Angelos shared such a vivid, open love for one another, and clearly they had no qualms about showing it.
She had never seen that sort of affection between her own parents. Madison Churchill had been gone too often, so that her mother, suffering from the slow starvation of too much time apart, had forgotten how to express emotion freely. She had developed a cast-iron composure that could not be penetrated, not even during the difficult days when her father had been reported missing. Not even when they had brought his body home for burial and Kari had needed her mother’s love and understanding the most.
What must it be like to grow up in a family like this? Kari wondered. To know that your parents adored one another? That no sacrifice would have been too much for a husband or wife to make for their spouse? Growing up in a dysfunctional family was certainly not an oddity these days, but Kari couldn’t help but think that, in spite of petty quarrels and emotional outbursts that were bound to occur in large families, love ruled the D’Angelos. Their kind of warmth and caring was something special. Something to be treasured. And a dynamic that had never existed in Kari’s family.
The silence in the kitchen had suddenly become intimate. Rose whispered something in Sam’s ear, and unexpectedly the older man actually seemed to blush as he tilted his head so that his wife’s lips connected with his pink cheek.
“And then…?” Kari prompted.
Sam cleared his throat as Rose straightened. “I proposed before I’d even gotten her home to dry off. There were several long discussions into the night between our families, but when her parents and Sofia and Renata returned to Italy, Rosa stayed here. With me.”
Kari couldn’t help grinning. “That’s quite a story.”
“And it seems to get…more dramatic with every telling,” Nick said from the top of the ladder. To Kari’s surprise, he sounded more indulgent than skeptical.
Sam looked suddenly reflective, a little sad. “I remember it as though it happened yesterday.”
Kari wondered if he was thinking of his lost youth, how robust he’d once been. Strong enough to pull the woman he loved from a raging river. How it must sting to be confined to that wheelchair.
“What did you mean, your family is descended from angels?” Kari asked.
Everyone laughed, even N
ick. Sam shook his head at them ruefully, and Kari suspected this was an old family debate.
“D’Angelo means ‘of the angels,’” he explained. “Legend has it that centuries ago members of my family saved their little town from evil, fire-breathing dragons. D’Angelos were the only townspeople brave enough to go out and meet certain death. Somehow they triumphed and that story has been handed down from one D’Angelo generation to the next. I’ve never had reason to doubt it.”
Rose laughed and ran her fingers through her husband’s salt-and-pepper hair. “I haven’t seen much angelic behavior from him in the past few years.”
Kari listened as they tossed comments back and forth a few minutes. None of their words carried heat.
She let her eyes stray upward to Nick. He’d gone back to work on the motor, putting his back into his efforts to loosen some bolt. Through the thin material of his polo shirt, she could see the movement of his muscles sliding back and forth with athletic beauty. His dark, silky hair feathering along the back of his collar was a heart-stirring sight.
For just a moment she could imagine him descended from angels. Heaven had to have a hand in shaping those deliciously handsome features of his. Then she remembered how obnoxious, how arrogant, he could be and her thoughts jerked to a halt.
Nope. No angels in his DNA, she’d bet. More likely there’d been some unfortunate mixup all those centuries ago. This D’Angelo was pure dragon.
She forced her attention back to the table. “Did you build this lodge?” she asked.
Sam nodded. “The land was a wedding present from my parents. A few years after we married we sold the cabins that my parents had owned down in Broken Yoke and built the main lodge here. We’ve made many additions. I always knew I wanted to run my own place.” He tossed a knowing grin toward his wife. “And Rosa needed her own kitchen.”
Rose was busy inspecting Nick’s handiwork on her drawer. She smiled back over her shoulder. “I loved Sam’s mother like my own. But every woman wants her own space. Before she died, she gave me her recipes, brought all the way from Italy.” Rose indicated a large pot of simmering sauce on the stove’s back burner that had begun to fill the kitchen with a intoxicating lemon-garlic scent. “Tonight’s specialty is one of hers. Chicken scarpariello.”
