by Wendy Byrne
Johnny Gavelli extended his arms and captured me in a tight hug, literally lifting me off the floor in the process. "Hey, Sal, how's my girl?"
Mrs. Gavelli's grandson had grown from a buck-toothed little boy with nerdy glasses into a dark-haired dreamboat of a man. He had classic, good Italian looks, complete with black, lazy eyes that had laughed at me for as long as I could remember. He was about Mike's height, six feet tall, with a lean, taut body and eyelashes so long I practically drooled with envy.
He grinned at me mischievously. "I got in last night. Had to see my best girl." He put an arm around Mrs. Gavelli's shoulders, and her face glowed from the attention. "Then Gram invited me to your party. I can't believe my very first conquest is getting married."
My cheeks were on fire. "Johnny, we never did anything, and you know that."
He winked. "Oh, but those times in the garage with you were priceless. Too bad Gram caught us before we could proceed any further. That underwear you used to wear, printed with the days of the week, was quite a turn-on."
Josie shook her head. "Still the same old pig, Johnny."
Mrs. Gavelli smacked him lightly across the cheek. "Is enough. You stop nasty talk." Then she grabbed his face tightly between her hands and smiled. "He something, no?"
He certainly was. Still, I was happy to see him and delighted he'd be accompanying Mrs. Gavelli to my engagement party.
Once a perverted little boy who'd coerced me into playing doctor with him in his dark garage when I was six and he eight, Johnny had grown up into a respected college professor at Southern Vermont College. Who would have thought?
Johnny's mother, Sophia, Mrs. Gavelli's only daughter, had died of a drug overdose when he was five. He'd never known his father. I had been told by my grandmother that I resembled Sophia, a possible reason for the old lady's somewhat shabby treatment toward me. Mrs. Gavelli had raised her grandson without assistance from anyone, and I was the first to admit she'd done a wonderful job.
Johnny pointed toward the ceiling. "Is Gianna upstairs? I haven't seen her in ages."
My sister lived in the apartment over my bakery. "No, she's going to the party straight from work."
The bells chimed again, and my heart took a leap when my fiancé walked in. Mike stopped for a brief moment to wipe his work boots on the mat inside my door, nodding to the Gavellis and Josie before his eyes found mine.
"Is my bride-to-be ready to go yet?"
"Aw," Josie and Sarah said in unison.
Mrs. Gavelli snorted. "You is all dirty. Why you roll around in mud?"
"He's been working on a roof, Mrs. G," I explained. Tar dotted the front of Mike's gray T-shirt, and there was a large gaping hole in the knee of his jeans. He smelled of the turpentine he'd used to wash his hands, but I caught the faint scent of the spicy cologne he wore mixed in. His dark hair curled over the nape of his neck, and as always, he sported a five o'clock shadow and needed a shave. His midnight blue eyes sparkled as they gazed at me. Ever since the first time I'd looked into those eyes at the tender age of sixteen, I'd been hooked.
He might have been a bit dirty but was still sexy as all get-out, and every ounce of him was mine.
Mrs. Gavelli reached again for the tray of fortune cookies, and Josie slapped her hand away. One fell onto the floor.
Josie glared at the woman. "I told you, no touching the merchandise."
Mike reached down to pick up the smashed cookie, which lay at his feet. He read the message, and a strange expression crossed his face. "Hmm. Interesting."
"What does it say?" I asked, not positive I really wanted to know. The fortune cookies in my shop seemed to carry a weird kind of aura. Patrons received a free one whenever they bought a cookie from the bakery. The predictions usually came true in some shape or form. To be honest, I wasn't sure I wanted to carry them any longer but knew my customers—Mrs. Gavelli in particular—would be outraged if we discontinued making them.
Mike smiled as he read aloud. "All things are difficult before they are easy."
Mrs. Gavelli grunted. "You see. He get bad fortune too."
Mike laughed and put his arm around me. "I don't think it's bad. It just means that we've been through our rough patch, and now's the time to enjoy ourselves." He kissed the top of my head. "Don't you agree, princess?"
"Sure," I said with uncertainty.
Josie gave me her I told you so look. She knew how I felt about the cookies. From the beginning, she'd never been completely on board with the idea, but I had insisted the bakery had to have a theme. "A waste of time and money" is what she called them.
"Those silly messages don't mean anything," she said.
Johnny stepped forward. "Hey, Mike. Remember me? I was Sal's first."
"Oh, you." I gave him a shove to the shoulder. "He's still the same egotistical eight-year-old who promised me an ice cream cone if I followed him into the garage."
Mike suppressed a smile as he shook Johnny's hand. "I thought it was you. Long time no see. Bet you're teaching those kids a lot in sex ed class, huh?"
Mrs. Gavelli shot my fiancé a dirty look. "We go now. Make sure we have good table tonight. And you no put me next to bathroom."
With that, she pushed the glass door open with a vengeance, and the welcoming sound of the bells drifted through the warm air. We all seemed to sigh in relief at her departure.
Sarah started to place the fortune cookies in the display case as she watched Mrs. Gavelli and Johnny cross the street together. She was in her late thirties with dishwater blonde hair and thoughtful brown eyes that lingered on their retreating figures. "That woman scares me."
Josie grunted as she took the tray from Sarah's hands. "Ah, Mrs. G is all talk and no action. It does my heart good to piss her off every now and then."
"You are so bad," I laughed.
Josie pointed toward the front door. "You two need to get out of here. I'll see you at the restaurant. Sarah, you're okay to close, right?"
Sarah nodded. "Oh, sure. No problem." She smiled at Mike and me, but I glimpsed sadness in her eyes.
Mike's phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. "I've got to take this. One of my customers. I'll be out in the truck waiting for you, babe."
I went into the back room to grab my purse. When I returned to the storefront, Sarah startled me as she pulled me into a tight hug. "I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you. Mike seems like a great guy. You're very lucky."
"Thank you. I know I am." Sarah was usually so quiet and reserved. Half the time I didn't even know she was around. She'd started working for us this past January, and we'd been very happy with her performance. Sarah was also a single mother and had an eight-year-old daughter who was the center of her world.
A tear leaked out of her eye. "I hope you guys have a long and happy life together. And that he truly deserves you."
I exchanged glances with Josie. Where was this coming from? "Is something wrong, Sarah?"
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to imply anything. I've never had much luck with the opposite sex, so I have a tendency to be a bit negative about love and marriage."
Josie folded her arms across her chest and raised one eyebrow at me. Sarah had never mentioned if she was dating anyone, so I assumed the topic was off-limits. Her daughter, Julie, had already captured a special place in my heart. Even though I assumed it must be tough for Sarah to make ends meet, I envied her for having that little girl.
"What about Julie's father? Does he help out at all?" I asked.
"Not as much as he should." Sarah wiped her eyes. "I don't mean to feel sorry for myself because I wouldn't trade Julie for the world. Some days I just need a break, you know?"
My heart went out to her, and I placed an arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry. I wish you'd said something before." Julie had been in my shop on numerous occasions and was another one who loved the fortune cookies.
Sarah shrugged. "I didn't want you to think I was a problem employee."
A though
t occurred to me. "Maybe I could take her overnight next weekend and give you some free time? I'd love to have her. We could go out for pizza and then watch movies together. It would be so much fun."
Josie looked at me like I was nuts but said nothing.
Sarah smiled. "That's so sweet of you, Sally. I'm sure she'd love it."
Josie pointed toward the door and gave me a look that said Go—I've got this. She put an arm around Sarah's thin shoulders. I felt terrible. My life was overflowing with happiness while this poor woman had almost none. Maybe if I gave her another raise that would help.
"Come on, Sarah," Josie said. "I'll help you clean and lock up. Sal really needs to leave." She shooed me toward the door. "I brought a change of clothes with me, so I'll head over afterwards. Rob's going to meet me at the restaurant."
A sudden thought crossed my mind. "Sarah, you're invited to the party too, you know. After you close up, please come meet us at the restaurant."
She wiped her eyes with her apron. "I—oh, Sally, I didn't expect an invitation. Honest."
"I'd really like you to be there. Please bring Julie too."
She reached out and grabbed me in such a tight hug I couldn't breathe. "I'd be honored to come, but I need to see how Julie's feeling first since she's had a bad cold the last couple of days. Thanks for thinking of us."
"Give her a hug from me." I waved at them both and hurried out the door. I climbed into the passenger side of Mike's truck. As I reached for the seat belt, he grabbed me and crushed me to him, placing his mouth over mine.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathless. "Hmm. Maybe we should skip the party."
He laughed. "I've been thinking about kissing you all day. I was tempted to do it in front of Mrs. Gavelli but figured I'd give the old lady a heart attack." He controlled the truck with his left hand, his right one stroking mine. "Any chance we've got a few extra minutes for alone time before the party?"
"Maybe a couple. We're running on a tight schedule, as usual," I said glumly. For the last few days, I hadn't seen much of my fiancé. Mike was busy trying to finish up a long list of jobs customers wanted completed before he took time off for the wedding and our honeymoon. Josie and I had been swamped at the bakery and were putting in overtime with special orders for graduation parties, baby showers, and weddings. "Maybe I should tell my mother we can't make it. I think I just caught the flu."
Mike stopped for a red light and turned to look at me, his beautiful eyes startled in his tanned, rugged face. "Babe, you have to go. I mean—your mother has put so much work into this."
I sighed. "I didn't even want a big wedding. I had that once before, and it ended in disaster. And now we're having an engagement party just weeks before we get married—who even does that? Only my kooky mother."
He watched me closely. "Sal, what's bugging you?"
"Let's pack a bag and fly to Vegas like we planned months ago. Or go see the nearest justice of the peace tomorrow. We've got the license. I want to be married to you now. No more waiting. We can still go through with the original wedding—we just won't tell anyone we're already married."
Mike laughed as he pulled into the driveway of the small yellow ranch house he owned, a ten-minute drive from my bakery. The house had belonged to his mother until she had succumbed to cirrhosis a couple of years ago.
He turned and placed his arms around my waist. "Please tell me you're not letting that stupid message get to you?"
"Of course not," I lied. Mike, like Josie, knew of my anxiety over the cookies. "I just don't want to wait anymore. We've waited long enough. Ten years is a long time."
He was silent as he pushed the hair back from my face, his expression thoughtful. "It's not a bad idea, but it does seem kind of unfair to your mother when she's devoted so much time to this. Besides…" He smiled as if teasing me. "I'm looking forward to showing you off to the world. I want to let everyone know you're mine. Forever."
The love in his eyes reflected my own. My eyes started to fill as I cradled his face in my hands. "I'll always be yours. Nothing will ever change that."
He kissed the tip of my nose. "Your mother would be crushed if she found out we got married before the actual wedding. And your grandmother would know. Don't ask me how, but she would know."
I sighed. He was right, of course. "Okay, forget that idea." I reached for the door handle and let myself out of the truck. "It was crazy anyway."
Mike unlocked the front door and stepped back, allowing me entrance first. "Nothing is going to happen, baby. We've had our share of bad luck and then some. What could possibly go wrong now?"
CHAPTER TWO
Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and a few stolen moments of intimate time, we were on our way to Mama Lena's, the location my mother had chosen for our engagement party. Since no one could even attempt to match my grandmother in Italian-style cuisine, we'd decided on a buffet with a variety of different dishes from this popular family restaurant.
Technically, Mike and I had been engaged since last January when I, as he liked to teasingly remind me, had proposed to him. We'd celebrated that night with champagne and romance and planned to fly off to Vegas a few days later. The next morning, my father, Domenic Muccio, had suffered a minor stroke. My mother, beside herself with worry, had made me promise that day at the hospital that I'd let her throw me the big wedding I so rightly deserved. Feeling guilty about my father's condition, I had relented. Those kind of preparations took time, especially with my mother planning them. Why she was throwing me an engagement party now, five months after the fact, was a complete mystery.
"I'm surprised Mrs. Gavelli didn't make a snide comment about holding the party so close to the wedding," I said and stepped out of the truck. I noticed my parents' car and Gianna's Ford Fiesta parked nearby.
"Hmm," Mike said as he opened the door of the restaurant for me.
I had turned twenty-nine years old yesterday, and it was the happiest birthday I could remember. The last year had been a tumultuous whirlwind with my divorce, a murder investigation when a high school nemesis had dropped dead on the front porch of my bakery, and the death of my cheating ex-husband. But I had survived and was a stronger and more confident person because of it. I could handle anything life threw at me with my true love by my side.
I glanced sideways at him suspiciously as we walked down the red-carpeted hall to the private dining room where the party was being held. "What's up? You're awfully quiet."
Mike grinned but said nothing. He opened the double doors to the room and gave me a gentle push forward. I was met with a chorus of "Surprise!"
I stood in the doorway for a moment, thoroughly confused and unable to say anything. My parents, Grandma Rosa, Gianna, Mrs. Gavelli, Josie and her husband, plus a few other friends were gathered. Pink balloons and streamers decorated the room. In one corner, there was a table piled high with envelopes, gift-wrapped presents, and a two-tier birthday cake decorated in pink and white icing that read Happy 29th Birthday, Sally.
Dumbfounded, I stared at my fiancé. "You tricked me."
He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Happy Birthday, princess. It's a day late, but we knew you'd never fall for an engagement party on your actual birthday."
"Happy birthday, sweetie!" My mother, Maria Muccio, threw her arms around me. As usual, she was dressed conspicuously in a bright red sundress, cut low in the front and back and barely covering her rear. She had paired the dress with four-inch, matching stiletto heels that accented her sensational-looking legs.
"Don't bend over, Mom," I whispered in her ear.
She giggled and bussed my cheek. "Wasn't it smart of me to have a twenty-ninth birthday for you? I'll bet you don't know why I picked this year to do it."
"I give up. Why?"
She straightened the collar on my white silk blouse. "Because now when people ask your age, you can always tell them, 'I had a 29th birthday party recently.' You can keep that charade up for at least another ten years!"
&n
bsp; I sighed. "Mom, your philosophy never ceases to amaze me."
She gave Mike a hug. "I tell everyone I'm only thirty-nine. And you know what? They believe it."
I was certain they did. Mom had a perfect size four figure and rich, dark hair the same shade as mine but not quite as curly. Paired with soft brown eyes, a small nose, and teeth she whitened religiously, my mother looked better than me most days.
My father, sixty-six years old, stout, and balding, came over and put an arm around her. He kissed me on the cheek and grunted a greeting at Mike. My father didn't have anything against Mike personally. He was just old-school and convinced there wasn't a man alive good enough for either of his daughters.
"Come on, bella donna," he said. "Everyone's waiting for you to grab a plate so we can start eating. I can't wait to dig in to those baby back ribs myself. Your grandmother never makes good stuff like that."
Grandma Rosa gave him the evil eye and put her forefinger to the side of her white head in a circular motion. "Crazy fool. The doctor said they are not good for you. More salad and vegetables is what you need."
"Hogwash," my father growled. "I stopped going to Denny's. What more does he want."
Grandma Rosa sniffed. "Lies. You were at Denny's yesterday." She looked at Mike and me. "That man is full of salami."
My father cut his eyes toward her and frowned, a confused expression on his round face. I placed a hand on Grandma Rosa's shoulder. "You mean bologna."
She nodded in approval. "That works too."
I looked up to see Josie standing on a chair, clinking a spoon against the side of a wine glass. "Attention, everyone!"
The thirty or so people in the room stopped talking and turned to stare at her.
Josie's gaze met mine, and she smiled. "I'd like to make a toast to Sal. I just want to say how lucky I am to have had a friend like you for over twenty years. Thank you so much for giving me a job that I enjoy waking up for every day."
She wiped away a tear while her husband Rob helped her down from the chair and placed an arm around her shoulders. He was a good-looking guy, over six feet tall with brown hair in a buzz cut and a matching well-trimmed beard.
