Corsica Gate

by Robena Grant

  Carlo glanced at Dia, and she smiled. He smiled back, finally able to relax. It had been a tough few moments with his mother’s iciness and obvious disapproval of Dia. But Dia, sweet as she was, didn’t seem to notice.

  Angie jumped from a wing chair, darted across the Persian rug, and came to a halt in front of Dia waving a book in her face. “Read this one to me.”

  “Angie, don’t run in the house,” Susan scolded. “And where are your manners?”

  Angie turned, gripping the book to her chest with both pudgy hands and jutted out her lips.

  Carlo caught his dad’s eye.

  “Let her be,” his father said.

  “I’m sorry.” Susan grimaced at Dia and grabbed the back of her daughter’s dress. “Sit down, Angie. Dia needs a chance to talk with the adults.”

  “Hey, it’s no problem.” Dia shrugged and smiled. “I’m a teacher. I’m used to kids.”

  “I’m an editor for a children’s book publisher,” Susan said, still looking concerned and serious. “My apartment is full of books, and manuscripts. I read to Angie and monitor her reactions. She thinks it’s the norm for everyone to read…and more importantly to read to her. But it’s no excuse.”

  About to say something to his father about indulging his grandchild, Carlo stopped himself as Dia leaned down to make eye contact with Angie. “Okay. Let’s make a deal.” She drew Angie close, and lowered her voice. “Do you know what a deal is?”

  Angie’s brown eyes widened and she nodded.

  “Good. So, you go back to the chair and read by yourself for a little while. I’ll finish my wine and talk with your grandma and grandpa, and then if you come over and ask nicely, I’ll read the story to you.”

  The look of amazement on Angie’s face turned to something like respect. Carlo held back a grin.

  “Okay.” Angie nodded a few times. “But dwink fast.” She walked to the chair, threw the book onto it, and then climbed up.

  Carlo bit back a laugh.

  “You’re so good with kids,” Susan said, a minute or so later. She smoothed her hands over her wild red hair. “I’m such a wreck. By the end of the day my patience has worn thin, and I think I let her get away with too much.” She shot her parents a quick look.

  “Oh, I’m sure you do an amazing job,” Dia said. “Parenting is hard work. Do you work from home?”

  “I’m part-time. I go into the office two days a week, and edit from home two days a week. It works out great for me, and for Angie. I remember you from elementary school,” Susan said. “You were a few years behind me and Maria. Then we moved.”

  “I remember you too. I’d forgotten about Carlo because he’s eight years older than me and was just, you know, one of those boys who hung out with Marco.” Dia flashed him a smile, and turned back to Susan. “And I think your daughter is precious.”

  “Do you want children?” Susan asked.

  Carlo almost choked on a cracker. Susan threw that out there in a random way, which was so unlike her. But he noticed she kept checking out their reactions to each other and the family.

  Dia nodded. “Eventually.”

  His mother stood and sniffed. With a tight face, she carried an antipasto tray to Dia. Carlo winced as she pointed to each thing on the tray and explained what everything was, as if Dia was too dumb or unrefined to know. Her snooty ways had prevented him from bringing a woman home for years. And yet, Dia took it all in stride, which made him feel even guiltier for using her.

  His father topped up wine glasses. Angie sat, posture erect, her little mouth quietly sounding out words.

  Dia put a hand over her glass. “No more for me, thanks. I have to be up early.”

  “Yes,” his father said. “Big goings on at your place. How is your mama holding up?”

  “I’m sure she’ll collapse after the wedding.” Dia laughed. “She’ll sleep all of Sunday, for sure.”

  “We all will,” Carlo said, to cover for another loud sniff of disapproval from his mother.

  “We’re so happy you and Carlo are going together,” his mother said in an icy tone. She put the serving plate back on the coffee table, sat, and crossed her long legs, and looked from one to the other of them.

  “We plan on having a good time,” Dia said. “I hear Carlo does a mean rhumba.”

  “Mambo.” His father smiled. “He’s good at the mambo, and the cha-cha.”

  Carlo shot Dia a glance. She still didn’t seem uncomfortable. He had to stop worrying. Hell, his hands were all clammy. And where the hell had that rhumba comment come from? They’d never discussed dancing. Not that he was against it. In fact, he could do the rhumba and the mambo.

  Dia’s eyes sparkled. She gave him a wink. Then she put her glass on the elegant silver-edged coaster and looked toward Angie. She gave her a little nod.

  Angie slid off the chair and walked across the room clutching the book. “Auntie Dia.” She sucked in a big breath, and then let it out with a huff. “Would you read this book to me, please?” She offered the book, a sweet questioning look on her face.

  Carlo’s mother’s eyes widened, and he looked away. Either she was miffed at Dia being referred to as auntie, or jealous that Angie seemed to like her. “Of course. I’d love to.” Dia lifted Angie onto the couch, and then slipped an arm around her as she scanned the cover. “The Cat in the Hat, by Dr. Seuss. Oh good. This is one of my favorites. I love all the—”

  “Shhhh!” Angie said with a glimmer of a scowl, and then nestled closer.

  Carlo, Dia, and Susan swapped raised eyebrow glances and smiles. Carlo knew Dia understood. They were all avid readers, and Angie also had a love for reading. There could be no talking, no extraneous words when it came to a favorite book, only the words on the written page were allowed. Susan gave him a thumbs-up and a wide grin. He sat back listening to Dia read, liking the inflections in her voice. A warm sense of comfort enveloped him.

  Susan and his mother cleared away some dishes and walked into the kitchen. His father took his shoes off and put his feet, in their brown socks, up onto the matching silk covered ottoman…always a good sign of his comfort level. Within seconds his dad’s eyes were closed.

  Carlo wanted this woman in his life. But how could he do that without scaring her off? His mother would make her life a misery. Besides that, he had to remember that Dia had been hurt. Much as he wanted her, he had to stick to his plan. Move slowly. Proceed with caution.

  Last night had been almost perfect. Until she slammed the car door and ran up those stairs as if there were flames licking her ankles. Thinking of ankles, he took a quick look at her pretty feet with their pink toenails peeping out from strappy sandals. Hell, was he getting a foot fetish? There wasn’t a part of her he didn’t want to touch, kiss, and explore.

  He shifted in the seat, glad nobody else was aware of his sudden discomfort. He finished his coffee, and then a tall glass of water. He’d see how things developed at the wedding before making any moves. That was all she’d signed on for…the wedding. It was an agreement, just something to get nagging mothers off their backs.

  Dia’s head bowed over the book, and Angie’s crown of dark curls pressed against her side, eyes drooping.

  Carlo thought he saw his future. And he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

  Chapter Five

  The wedding mass was lovely. Maria looked gorgeous. From the moment Marco lifted her veil, he hadn’t stopped smiling. Dia’s heart filled with joy for her brother and his wife. They were so happy, so good together, and their spoken vows had made her tear up.

  She thought of Maria as a sister. Relationships were hard, but Maria and Marco made it look so easy. She knew, for some unexplained reason, she was on the cool side when it came to romance. Some would say shut down. She preferred emotionally cool. Not as cold as Mrs. Antonelli, but still cool. Was Carlo’s mother cool in romance, or just cool toward anyone who became romantic with her son?

  Thinking about love and romance, and weddings that never happened, she dwel
led for a moment on Jason. Their relationship had worked for her. She hadn’t had to give up too much of her heart, just a small corner. It had worked for him too, until he met someone he’d totally flipped over. She smiled. He’d known she loved him but wasn’t in love with him. He deserved to be happy. Anyone with parents like his needed to find true love. She held nothing against him for taking a hike.

  “You may now kiss the bride,” the priest said.

  Dia quickly refocused. Marco and Maria kissed for so long that the priest gave a little cough. Twice. Everyone broke into applause and laughter. Dia ended up laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. One day, maybe, she might be able to find that kind of love too. But she sincerely doubted it. She sighed as the happy couple walked up the aisle. She moved out of the front pew, walking behind Mama and Frank. Maria’s parents were in front of them.

  Across the aisle stood Mr. and Mrs. Antonelli, Carlo, Susan and Angie, and Tony and Mrs. Cupertino. It could be her imagination, but had Carlo’s mother peered around her husband’s shoulder, eyed her up and down, and sniffed? Carlo gave her a slow wink.

  They’d chosen not to sit together in church but to hook up at the reception. It had all been about numbers, how many could sit in one vehicle, plus her mother’s desire to have her seated in the front pew. She was sure Mrs. Antonelli had insisted Marco be seated with his family. In the end Dia chose to drive herself—anything to stay out of family arguments.

  Mama smiled at her, tears evident in her big brown eyes. “It was lovely, yes?”

  “Perfect, Mama.” Dia touched her mother’s arm. Frank reached down took her mother’s hand.

  They followed the wedding group out through the big wooden doors of Our Lady of the Rosary. The immediate family posed for a wedding photo on the steps, exactly like her parents, and Maria’s parents, had done many years before. Like she and her friends had done at confirmation. Everyone stood around chatting, laughing, taking photos. She smiled for the photographer.

  Marco and Maria could have chosen one of the bigger churches, but they loved tradition. Dia pulled in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She’d play the part for them because she loved them. But this whole scene was not her. Not any more.

  No marriage in this church, no big family event, no neighbors. Vegas, all the way, baby. She glanced around the lawns and, catching sight of Tony and Carlo, waved.

  Carlo moved closer, head and shoulders above most of the crowd. “See you at the reception,” he called.

  It took at least twenty minutes of standing on the church steps, looking straight ahead, being shuffled into different arrangements and posing for the professional photographers. Guests pushed forward to snap their pictures. Everyone chatted, laughed, and yelled instructions.

  It was a few minutes before she caught sight of Carlo and Tony again. They stood close together on the grass. Carlo took photos on his cell phone. They leaned their heads close to inspect the results. They looked comfortable, standing like that, genuinely admiring everything and everyone. Jealousy stirred in her stomach, like a giant gnawing hole. She looked away.

  “This way, Dia. Look toward the camera,” the photographer called. “Then I want you and your mother and the bridal couple only. Down here, under this tree.”

  “Okay.” Dia forced a smile. She couldn’t wait for this part to be over. The sun had slipped behind a cloud. The sky darkened. Thunder rolled in the distance. Rain would come soon, any minute now.

  How on earth would she make it through the reception? Do I have to go? She glanced at the happy couple. Of course she had to go, for a few hours anyway.

  “It’s sprinkling.” Maria put a hand toward the sky, and then gathered the train of her gown. “Let’s get going before we have to make a run for the cars.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Romani.” Marco gave her a sweeping bow. Everyone laughed.

  The couple held hands and rushed to the waiting black limousine. Thunder rumbled, more angry now. Everyone dashed toward their cars while the photographer snapped candid shots. Some of those would be gorgeous.

  Dia got inside her car as the first large raindrops fell, and pulled the door closed. Carlo had hitched a ride with Susan.

  The back lot of the church was almost empty. For one second Dia toyed again with missing the reception. But she wouldn’t do that to Marco and Maria. They wanted her there. And she had to show up for Mama’s sake, even if she only stayed for an hour.

  Fifteen minutes later, inside the ballroom of the U.S. Grant Hotel in downtown San Diego, Dia stood in the doorway. Each table held a gorgeous floral arrangement—soft peach and white with spots of purple and green to highlight. The string quartet in one corner, elaborate bar in another, and the waiters circling the room with platters of food and trays filled with champagne flutes seemed magical. People milled around, talking and laughing. Mama and Frank stood near the wall on the other side of the room deep in conversation with friends.

  “So sweet and romantic,” she murmured to the waiter, as she plucked a flute of champagne from his silver tray.

  The wedding party, which, truth be told, she should have been a part of, were announced, and everyone stood. Amid applause, the group made their way to the main table. Dia waited until the party was seated, before weaving through the crowd. The singles table should have had a giant L for losers over it, with her being the head one. Except for Carlo, of course. He stood with his back to her looking way too gorgeous in a black tuxedo. Tony sat at the other side of the round table, laughing and talking with three young people.

  She pulled in a deep breath and approached. It was now or never. “Hi, how is everyone? Wasn’t it a beautiful ceremony?”

  “Wonderful.” Tony smiled. “And we got here ahead of the rain.”

  As if in response, lightning flashed beyond the huge glass windows. “Yeah, but they got great photos in those last moments. Those dark clouds will make a great backdrop.”

  Carlo slipped an arm around her waist. “You okay?” he murmured close to her ear.

  “Sure. Let’s sit. Where’s Susan?”

  “At my parents’ table.”

  “But she’s a single. Shouldn’t she—”

  “It’s fine.” He frowned and shrugged. “Angie is here, so it’s for the best.”

  Dia nodded. It seemed nobody thought of what Susan might need. Angie could have sat with her grandparents, and Susan could have enjoyed a night out with her contemporaries. But it wasn’t Dia’s place to say anything.

  “Here, allow me.” Carlo took her glass and placed it on the table. He pulled out her chair.

  Dia smiled up at him as he waited until she’d adjusted the long skirt, and found a spot for her evening purse. “Thank you.”

  She reached for the champagne glass. It might be the thing that got her through this evening. She took two sips, eyed the main table, and gave Marco and Maria a little wave. They grinned and waved back. If she had to be any more cheerful, she’d puke.

  Six months ago, that would have been her sitting with Jason at the main table listening to speeches, taking the floor for the first dance, kissing and thanking everyone.

  Not that she wished for that, really. She was glad it had never happened, but she was so darn confused. What the hell do I want?

  The night progressed. Everyone ate and drank, and it got rowdier. After the first dance finished and the speeches were long forgotten, then the real party started. The quartet struck up their rendition of Mambo Italiano, and while they weren’t quite up to Dino’s standard, they were pretty darn good. The parents of the bride, along with Mama and Frank, took to the floor. Minutes later the MC asked everyone to grab a partner and join them.

  Carlo reached for her hand.

  Dia took a quick slug of champagne. “You’ve got to be kidding.” She set the glass on the table. “You’re really going to—”

  “Absolutely.”

  He whirled her onto the floor, sliding easily into the steps of the dance. Dia was beyond impressed. After that, they dance
d every dance. An announcement was made that the dessert buffet was open, and soon there would be the traditional cutting of the cake. While everyone else headed for sweets, Dia headed for the ladies’ lounge.

  Five minutes later, she came back into the ballroom. Tony and Carlo stood in a dark, private corner beyond the buffet. Carlo looked so gorgeous she had the overwhelming urge to throw him down amongst the cannoli and have her way with him. She laughed. They hadn’t noticed her. She stood still for a moment and caught her breath, realizing with the loud thumping of her heartbeat that she wanted this man in her life.

  Carlo’s face lit with humor as he leaned closer to Tony, his dark eyes sparkling. He whispered something.

  He hadn’t looked at her that way.

  She’d loved dancing with him, dining with him, teasing him. Tony hadn’t paid much mind to them when they were seated at the table. He’d danced up a storm with all the single ladies, and for a while…she’d forgotten. She’d forgotten all about her role for the evening. And she’d forgotten that she and Carlo were not dating. Her cheeks heated. Tony laughed out loud. Then to Dia’s surprise, he planted a big hand on either side of Carlo’s head and gave him a smacking smooch on the forehead.

  Dia hurried to the single’s table, picked up her wrap and purse, and walked toward them. “I’m heading for home. You guys have fun.” She blew them a kiss. “I had a great time, thanks for the invite, Carlo.”

  Within minutes, she was outside the hotel and sprinting barefoot down the wet pavement. Rain fell. The strapless evening dress, wet and clinging to her body, flapped like a beached fish against the front of her legs. The flimsy wrap did nothing to warm her shoulders. She held the elegant evening purse above her head like an umbrella. In her other hand, gripped by the straps, dangled a pair of silver evening shoes.

  Why do we do this? Hold something over our head thinking it will protect us?

  She let out a half-laugh, half-sob, dropped her hand and turned her face up to the thunderous sky. The raindrops got heavier. Dia blinked hard, glanced up and down the street waiting for a moment to cross safely, and then ran to the other side. The weather lady on TV had promised they’d get no more than a sprinkle…so much for the weather lady and her knowledge.