A Taste of Romance

by Rhonda Laurel

  “Play nice.” She winked and walked away.

  He watched Trina walk over to the gift shop, well, because he liked watching her, and it gave him some time to temper his fury. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Finally, he turned back to Matteo. “Matteo. Cosa stai facendo qui?” He wanted to know what his brother was doing back home.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.” Matteo looked around. “The changes are subtle but a definite improvement. I can’t quite put my finger on it. What did you do?”

  “I had the track lighting replaced. It gives more ambiance to the entire space. There are no dark gaps around the room.” Marco ran a hand through his hair. “The tasting room has been expanded. It can now accommodate as many as thirty people at a time. There’s also a room for private tastings.”

  “The Vino Café had a facelift too?”

  “Yes, we’ve added an outside deck, but it’s still separate from the party area. The wait staff can keep better track of the customers. Matteo. Cosa stai facendo qui?” The faster he ascertained his brother’s motives, the faster he could send him on his way.

  “You sound like a parrot. Is it too late to grab a bite in the café?”

  “No, they’re still open.”

  “You wouldn’t want to join me by any chance?”

  “I have to get back to my office.”

  “No afternoon walk among the grapes today?”

  “No, not today. Seriously, what are you doing home?”

  “It’s my home too. I did grow up here. I wanted to see my mother and find out why my brother had been avoiding my calls.” He motioned toward the gift shop entrance where Trina was adjusting a sign. “But now I know why. It’s been a while since you’ve been serious about someone.”

  “What makes you think I’m serious?”

  “The look in your eyes for starters.” Matteo laughed. “I could always read you like a book. Maybe we can have a nice long talk over a glass of chianti one evening.”

  “I’m sure Mama will be happy to see you,” he repeated.

  Just then Mama Paloma walked into the winery. She beamed as she ran toward them. “Matteo! Il mio bel ragazzo è a casa!”

  “Ciao, Mamma.” He gave her a big squeeze.

  She looked at Marco. “Did you know about this?”

  “I’m just as surprised as you are.” He shrugged. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Mama, I was just about to grab a bite at the café,” Matteo said. “Will you join me?”

  “We’ll eat light, then go back to the market. Tonight we will feast to celebrate your homecoming.” She turned to Marco. “Make sure you and Katrina come home at a decent hour. I want the whole family at the table.”

  “OK,” Marco replied and kept moving. Maybe he’d take that stroll now to see how the grapes were doing. It would give him some time to process Matteo’s sudden appearance.

  He slowed a bit as his mother’s parting words echoed in his mind. She wanted him and Trina home for a family dinner. Despite how she’d been scrutinizing Trina, his mother had just acknowledged that she was warming to her. But of course she was being stubborn about it. It was progress, to say the least.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As Trina descended the staircase, she could hear the same rapid Italian chatter similar to last night coming from the kitchen. She looked back and forth as Marco bantered with his mama and Matteo. Now would have been a good time to open that translation app, but she doubted she could do it without being noticed. They both spoke so passionately, it was hard to get a vibe on whether they disagreed. Last night when they did that, they ended up hugging and kissing.

  But the strain on Marco’s face said this wasn’t that kind of chat.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  Marco smiled. “Good morning, Katrina.”

  “Good morning, beautiful,” Matteo said, then immediately took a sip of his coffee to avoid his smirk.

  On cue, Marco shot him a look. It was amazing how easy Marco was to provoke, but she knew that just meant he didn’t like the idea of his brother flirting with her. Isabelle explained that to her last night over the phone. Isabelle was the obvious go-to for advice about battling siblings. Tate and Chance were oil and water, and she was the referee.

  Feeling that the vibes in the room were pretty good, she turned to Marco’s mom. “Buongiorno, signora Mamma Paloma.”

  “Buongiorno, Katrina,” The older woman said as she fiddled with their espresso machine.

  Yes. She’d nailed saying good morning. Her Italian was getting better.

  “Did you sleep well?” Marco moved closer to her.

  “It would have better if I’d slept with you.” She smiled.

  “You should have knocked on my door,” he said so only she could hear.

  “I was pretty sure there would be bear traps in the hallway,” she said in a low tone.

  “Espresso.” Mama Paloma wedged between them with a small cup and saucer.

  “Thank you.”

  Trina took the cup to be polite, even though espresso was a little strong for her tastes. Besides, it hadn’t sounded like a question. She didn’t want to ruffle any feathers and was grateful the woman wasn’t chasing her with a pitchfork. Portia said Mama Paloma chased women away from her Marco. It was only a matter of time before the woman had a curt chat with her.

  As soon as she took a sip, she knew her pupils would become the size of silver dollars. But when the woman stood there waiting for her to taste it, she had no choice. She took a sip. It was the strongest espresso she’d ever had in her life. Suddenly she felt like singing the Star-Spangled Banner and running a lap around the vineyard. She looked over at Marco, who was sipping from his own cup like he had a glass of lemonade. How did Marco drink this stuff? She probably wouldn’t blink for the next two days.

  “Do you like?” Mama Paloma asked.

  “I like.” She grinned. “It’s just what I need for a busy day at the winery. Am I doing another tour today?”

  “Umm,” Marco stammered. “There’s been a change in plans for today.”

  Uh, oh. She didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Katrina, you’re coming with me,” Marco’s mom said in an authoritative tone. She looked at her sons.

  “I am?” Trina gulped and looked at Marco. “Where?”

  “Mama has some shopping to do.” He held up a piece of paper that looked like a shopping list. “She wants you to join her.”

  “OK. Sure.” She cautiously inspected the list. “It’s in Italian.”

  “Oh.” Marco took the list back and started writing on it. “Here you go. English and Italian.”

  “Marco and Matteo will be spending the day together,” Mama Paloma declared.

  The brothers looked at each other.

  “Mama, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Marco said.

  “I have to catch up on my emails, and I’m still a little jet lagged,” Matteo chimed in.

  “It wasn’t a suggestion.” She gave them both a stern look.

  “Yes, Mama,” they said in unison.

  “Good.” She gave them each an affectionate pat on the cheek.

  “I’ll go grab a quick shower and change.” Matteo walked out of the kitchen.

  He sounded as enthused as Marco looked, but she was sure neither wanted to test their mother’s patience.

  “Marco, have you seen my glasses?” Mama Paloma asked.

  “They’re probably on your bathroom sink, where they always are.” He smiled.

  “Smartypants.” Mama Paloma left the room in search of her spectacles.

  “Marco.” Trina peeked out of the door to make sure his mother had gone to her room. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Your mother doesn’t speak much English, and my Italian is non bene.”

  Marco raised an eyebrow. “You do know you just spoke Italian?”

  “I’ve been listening to you for the past week. I picked up a few words here and there.”

  “Mama’s Engl
ish is better than she lets on. No worries. She said she’d be more conscious to speak to you in English.”

  “Why did you do that?” She began pacing back and forth in front of the sink. “Now she’s going to think I’m some loser who won’t bother to learn her language.”

  “Enough espresso for you.” He took the cup and saucer out of her hands.

  “Yeah.” She wrung her hands. “That stuff could bring the dead back to life. How can you drink that?”

  “Conditioning. I’ve drunk it most of my life.”

  “Look.” She pulled out her phone and opened it. “I found a translation app last night. You speak into the phone, and it will tell me what you say in English.”

  He took her phone from her and looked at the screen. “Sei la donna più bella che abbia mai conosciuto.”

  She took the phone from him and read the text. It said, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  “Grazie.” She smiled.

  He touched her cheek gently. “You will be fine. I am going to the winery. If you need me, just give me a call on my cell.”

  “You never have your cell with you.”

  He laughed. “I’ll glue it to my hand.”

  “Katrina! La luce del giorno sta bruciando!” Mama Paloma said as she marched past them to the pantry and retrieved canvas grocery bags.

  She looked at her phone translation. To paraphrase, it meant get the lead out and get going. “Have any suggestions?”

  “Use the translation app if you must. But it’s really this simple.” He massaged her shoulders. “Listen with your heart, and you’ll understand what she’s saying.”

  “OK.” She nodded.

  “Enjoy your day.” He kissed her.

  “You too. Now would be a good time start a dialogue with your brother.”

  Trina followed Mama Paloma outside to the Ranger Rover that had already been pulled out to the front of the house. She pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and slid them on. She could do this. She just had to attack this fear like she did other phobias, like singing in public. Once she’d steeled herself and focused on the music, everything else was a breeze. Mama Paloma was just an audience of one. A very intimidating audience of one who was very protective of her son.

  She’d take Marco’s advice, but she’d proceed with caution and keep that translation app open to use on the ready. She took a deep breath, opened the door of the Range Rover and climbed in. She’d been driving it for a few days, so there was no need to adjust the seat, but she did check the mirrors a few times. When she looked in the rearview, Marco was still standing outside watching them.

  She was so nervous she was barely able to start the SUV. Then it occurred to her that she needed a game plan. She peeked at the list in the older woman’s hand. A few of the stores were in the town center, and she remembered driving to the farmer’s market when she took that ride with Portia. The farmer’s market was the closest, and it was early. The women in her family always liked going there early to get the best pick of the vegetables. So, she punched the name into the GPS.

  “Why don’t we start at the farmer’s market?” She pointed to the second thing on the list.

  “Sì. Mercato degli agricoltori.” She nodded. “Then we go to the pharmacy.”

  OK. They were off to a good start. She put the car in drive and drove away from the house.

  “How was your visit with your sisters?” she asked, trying to make conversation.

  His mother started up again in Italian, and although Trina didn’t understand what she was saying, by the hand gestures and eye rolls that probably meant she bickered with them.

  The sound of her cell phone ringing filled the cabin of her vehicle. Her cell phone was already synced with the SUV via Blue Tooth, so she was able to see it was her Grandma calling. “Hi, Grandma.”

  “Trina-Beana. How’s my songbird doing today?”

  “I’m fine Grandma.” A wave of comfort washed over her. Grandma Reed’s voice always calmed her down. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. You were on my mind, so I thought I’d call you to chat again. How are you keeping busy today?”

  “I’m running some errands with Marco’s mom. She returned home early from a visit with her sisters in Italy. She’s in the car with me. We’re on speakerphone. She doesn’t speak much English.” She turned to the older woman, hoping she understood her. “Mrs. Di Giovanni, this is my Grandma Reed on the phone.”

  There was a moment of silence until Grandma Reed chimed in.

  “Ciao! Signora Di Giovanni. Mi chiamo, Grace Reed.”

  “Ciao! Per favore, chiamami Paloma. E ‘molto bello conoscerti anche tu.” Mama Paloma perked up at hearing her own language. “Sei italiano è buono.”

  “Grazie,” Grandma Reed replied. “But I’m afraid I’ve gotten rusty over the years.”

  “My English is OK,” Mama Paloma responded.

  Trina’s eyes widened as Grandma Reed and Mama Paloma began to talk in English like old friends. It was clear Mama Paloma spoke English well when she wanted to. There was no need to activate the translator for this one. It was clear they were discussing her and Marco.

  Mama Paloma didn’t mince words. She told Trina’s grandma that she’d walked in on an intimate moment the day she returned home. Grandma laughing in response made Trina squirm in her seat. She wanted to kiss the farmer’s market sign as soon as she saw it and pulled into the parking lot.

  “We’re here.” She put the SUV in park.

  “It was so nice talking to you, Grace.”

  “You too, Paloma. I hope you find fresh eggplant.”

  “Talk to your grandmother, then come.” Paloma opened the door and got out.

  “I haven’t spoken Italian like that in a long while,” Grandma Reed said.

  “Uh, Grandma.” What was there to say after her grandmother learned about her embarrassing incident with Mama Paloma? “About what Mama Paloma said—”

  “You’re a grown woman. I’m not shocked that you and Marco were together.”

  “Oh.” The heat rising up her cheeks began to sting a bit. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  “I have to go, dear. Derek Jr. is tired of sitting in his seat. Paloma sounds like a wonderful woman. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  “OK. Bye, Grandma—” was all she was able to get out before the call disconnected. She grabbed her purse, hopped out of the car, and walked into the tent to find Marco’s mom. But his mother had already moved on to the next tent. “There you are. Let me take that basket for you.”

  She followed Mama Paloma around as she inspected the tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers. It was no surprise she knew everyone there. She’d be chatting with people as she perused the food. She wasn’t too happy about the zucchini and argued with the man until he sent someone for a fresh batch from which she happily picked the ones she liked. They continued to walk around looking at the produce, and all the while Trina was going crazy inside. The silence as so uncomfortable, in her opinion. Why would Trina keep quiet when there were a million things to talk about?

  Like the brilliant blue color of the sky and how the sun was shining so brightly. She didn’t mind talking about anything except Marco. They were on the brink of taking their relationship to another level before they were interrupted that night. Things were kind of put on pause since his mother’s return. She wanted Marco. The guy was a hunk. He was also smart, passionate, and attentive. There was that word again. No man had ever listened and watched all for the sake of getting to know her. It was refreshing that he wanted to understand her, even though their time together would be limited. In a few days this would be coming to an end when she returned to Los Angeles for her album release party.

  And she had to go back to L.A. and face the music, so to speak. But, she was having so much fun with Marco. Working in the winery during the day and the time they spent together in the evenings. She felt that she didn’t want to leave to go back to Los Angeles or even Philadelphia
for that matter. The homesickness was subsiding as she found herself longing for something new.

  Was there a possibility of a future with Marco? That possibility may have sounded ludicrous last week. But now it wasn’t so crazy. Being with him felt real and good. She needed to get out of her own head. She had her career to think of, and Marco had already made clear he would never leave his vineyard. She loved being with her family in Philadelphia.

  “I can help.” She peeked at the grocery list.

  Mama Paloma looked at her for a moment. “OK.”

  The skin of the butternut squash was a solid beige color and had no cuts and bruises, so she went ahead and picked a few up. She also knew a good string bean when she saw one, as she often cleaned them when she helped Grandma cook Sunday dinners. She hated peas, but she’d seen her mom fuss over them enough when she was little that she could spot the good pods.

  Mama Paloma inspected her choices and gave a nod of approval. They moved on to the fruits. The older woman munched on blueberries, squeezed cantaloupe, and smelled granny smith apples. The strawberries looked plump and juicy.

  “Taste.” Mama Paloma held up a strawberry. “Good size. Fresh.”

  Trina bit into the fruit. “Yum. Sweet.”

  “Marco likes strawberries and kiwi.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Let’s go find kiwis, then we go to the bakery. We need fresh bread for dinner,” Mama Paloma said.

  “Bread is so fattening,” she pouted.

  “Troppo magro.” Mama Palomo patted her hip. “Too skinny. My Bolognese will fatten you up.”

  Trina grabbed a table when they arrived at the bakery and helped the older woman sit down. She then went to the counter and ordered the bread, a couple of scones, and an espresso for Mama Paloma and a cappuccino for her. She was returning to the table with her tray when Genevieve walked into the bakery.

  “Skank,” Trina muttered.

  “Donna sciolta,” Mama Paloma spat out.

  They looked at each other.

  “I don’t like her either,” Trina said.

  “All the time she’s trying to get her hooks into Marco. What does skank mean?”

  “Um.” Trina bit her lip, looking for a clean answer. “A woman with low morals.”