That's (Not Exactly) Amore

by Tracey Bateman

  The family.

  I hate the way that sounds. I still keep hoping that some miracle will occur and I’ll discover that Joe has no dealings with the mob and I can date him after all. All indications lately point to the fact that he’s interested in me as more than a friend. I guess I grew on him.

  Our situation brings new meaning to the phrase “too little, too late.”

  I’m dog tired as I land in my seat on the train from Manhattan to Long Island. I’m sick of trains back and forth to Mom’s. I guess I’ll be relieved when the house sells and I’m back at my apartment. Although Nancy doesn’t really like the baking I do. And she hasn’t found a place yet. We’ll have the same problem that we had before I starting cooking at my mom’s. But I won’t be doing as much. That should help until she finds an apartment. She’s been looking, but it’s not that easy to find a decent place in just a few days. And I’m not about to toss her out on the street for breaking one rule. Even if it was the mother of all rule breakage as far as I’m concerned. She feels bad enough as it is, and after all she did get me the job with Janine.

  I never thought I’d be happy living alone. Losing Tabby and then Dancy was like surviving death upon death. It was hard. Depressing. But somehow, being alone in the house where I grew up isn’t so bad. I’m happy there. And I’d give almost anything for the chance to buy the house.

  I get to stay two more weeks before I receive my degree and start my job. And I plan to make the most of every day.

  I’d happily put up with the commute if the house were mine, but why spend an extra hour and a half a day getting to and from work when I don’t have to? Besides, time to integrate back into apartment life. The inevitable condition of my life for the foreseeable future.

  I fight to stay awake during the cab ride from the station to my mom’s. It’s only nine o’clock but I think the stress of the past few months has finally caught up with me. I must have dozed off because I awaken to a gruff voice.

  “Hey, lady. Wake up. My cab ain’t a hotel.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble. I slip him his fare and head toward the porch. A shadowy figure rises from the steps and I gasp.

  “Don’t be scared. It’s me—Mark.”

  “Mark! You could have called. You scared me to death.”

  “I did call,” he says dryly. “Lots of times. I even left messages.”

  Okay, he has a point there. “Well, you never mentioned showing up at my door in the dark.”

  “You win that one.” He wraps his arms around me and gives me a hug. I have to admit it feels good. But I pull back before it can go any further.

  “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I took a little vacation time this week. If it makes you feel any better, I go back to work tomorrow.”

  I hesitate after unlocking the door. Should I or shouldn’t I invite him in? The image of Kellie and Kyle and Mark, the happy little family, slides across my mind, making my decision for me.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Mark. Good night.”

  “Laini, wait.” He steps forward quickly. “The reason I took those days off,” he says, “was because I packed Kellie and Kyle and moved them back to her folks’ in Missouri.” He towers above me and is so close, the scent of Polo cologne fills my senses. My stomach flips.

  “She’s gone?”

  “Yes.” He takes my hand and holds it against his chest. “I told you as soon as I could find them a place without risking Kyle’s well-being I would. Well, her parents asked her to come home. So she and Kyle are safe and sound back home in Springfield, Missouri. And I’m begging you to give me a second chance.”

  I look into those blue eyes, and all the reasons I became so attracted to him in the first place suddenly come rushing back as a little thing like moving his ex-lover into his house for a month and a half fades into oblivion.

  “Come inside and let’s talk about it over coffee.”

  His face splits into a wide smile. A relieved smile. I feel sort of special that he wants me back so badly. He stands behind me and buries his face in my neck as I unlock the door. It feels so good, I am not responsible for my next action. I turn in his arms and lift my face to his. Before his face can lower, though, I have second thoughts and turn my head. My eyes focus over his shoulder. Joe’s image flashes through my mind. Wait! That’s not just through my mind. I really do see Joe. Joe! My heart beats a rapid cadence. What’s he doing here? Apparently Mark doesn’t notice I’ve had a change of heart, because he’s still going in for the kiss—but Joe has me hypnotized. I’d rather be anywhere but in this situation.

  “Laini?” Mark’s impassioned tone reaches my ear. Joe doesn’t speak; he turns and walks away. I’m not even sure how he got here. But I know I can’t just let him leave.

  I pull back from Mark, causing him to lose his footing a little. He stumbles forward, right at me. Pushing him back, I leave him to recover his composure as I sidestep and run down the steps. “Joe! Wait.”

  I run down the sidewalk, but Joe doesn’t even bother to stop. And I know darn well he hears me. Just because he doesn’t like Mark is no reason to be a jerk.

  “Hey!” I grab his arm and finally he whips around to face me.

  Anger flashes in his eyes. “What?”

  “Well, you came over. Why?” And then I see he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers. Not roses, but the kind of mix you get at the grocery store for $11.99. My heart skips. “Are those for me?”

  “They were.”

  “But not now?”

  He scowls. “No.”

  My jaw drops. “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Laini!” Mark calls from the porch.

  Joe gives me a highbrowed, knowing look, turns, and saunters away.

  Anger shoots through me and I stomp after him. “Give them to me.”

  He glares. “No. They’re mine.”

  “You’re being unreasonable and pigheaded.”

  A short laugh bursts from him as he looks over my shoulder. “Speaking of pig.”

  I gasp. “Joe!”

  “Not all cops are pigs, but that one is.”

  “Give me the flowers.”

  He shakes his head stubbornly.

  Stomping my feet, I plant my hands on my hips. “Those flowers are mine and I want them.”

  “They’re yours, huh? Did you buy them?”

  I dive into my pocket and pull out a twenty. “Here!”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking my flowers.” Horror of horrors, my eyes well up, and I can feel my lip trembling. “I-I want them. Why are you being so mean?”

  “Put away your money,” he says, his voice gentle and low. “They’re yours. I bought them to congratulate you on being finished with school. You were pretty stressed last night.”

  I take the flowers. “That was sweet.”

  “Well, I’m a sweet guy.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Thanks, Joe.”

  “Laini?” I hear Mark’s footsteps on the sidewalk.

  “Why didn’t you take my advice about him?”

  I shrug. “I tend to make up my own mind. Besides, you’re wrong. Mark’s a good guy.” I lean in and lower my voice. “Definitely not a pig.”

  “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “May I go now that I’ve given you the flowers?”

  I smile. “You may.”

  “See you tomorrow night at the reception.”

  “Okay.”

  “You did a good job, you know. The place looks great.”

  I nod. “It was mostly Jazz and Nancy. But then, you already know that.”

  “Well, no one can cook the way you do.” He gives me a wink. “I’m going to go before the cop arrests me.”

  I watch him go as Mark walks up. “What’s he doing here with flowers? Did you start dating while we were taking our break?”

  “No. He’s just a friend. He doesn’t think of me that way.�
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  “His loss.” He laces his fingers with mine. “Let’s go back to the house and take up where we left off.”

  “Mark, there’s something I want to know about Kellie.”

  “Honey, I told you everything you need to know. She’s gone and that’s it. You don’t have to worry about her and Kyle anymore.”

  Something about his statement doesn’t sit right with me. Something I can’t put my finger on. Something I need to discuss with Dancy and Tabby. And I plan to tomorrow night. But until I get some clarity, I have no intention of taking up where I left off with Mark.

  When we get to the porch, I turn to him. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a crazy week, and I’m ready to turn in. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Oh, come on.” His voice is cajoling, and a little boy grin tips his lips. “You’re going to hurt my feelings. Is this because of Joe?”

  “I told you I’m not seeing him.”

  He bends and kisses my forehead. “All right. You do look a little tired. I’m sorry for pressuring you. How about Sunday for brunch?”

  “I have church Sunday morning. You could go with me.”

  “I like to sleep in on Sunday.”

  “Okay.” But it matters to me that he would rather sleep. I mean, not long ago I would rather have done anything than attend services. Now, I can’t imagine starting my week any other way.

  “How about lunch after church?”

  “Okay, we could go to your dad’s restaurant.”

  “Sounds good. Pop’ll be thrilled.”

  He moves in for a kiss. At the first touch of his lips on mine, I’m surprised to realize I don’t have the same reaction as earlier. I don’t know why. Maybe just getting out of his reach, seeing Joe, and thinking about Kellie and Kyle has changed something for me.

  I allow a fast kiss, but when he moves in to take it deeper, I put my hand on his chest and move back.

  “Is it because he brought you flowers and I didn’t?”

  “Hey.” I grin. “I’m not that easy.”

  “Okay. You’re right. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, then.” I stay on the porch and watch as he saunters toward his dad’s car. When he drives away, I’m relieved to see him go.

  The next night I walk into Nick’s and my heart rushes with the excitement I’ve been feeling all day long, only amplified. The place is lit up with old green (or gray, depending on whom you believe) sconces on the walls. The new decor absolutely transforms the coffee shop into a wonderful Italian-style café.

  Across the room, I spot Nick. Wonderful Nick with all that heart buried beneath his gruff exterior. I beeline over to him, even though he’s in conversation with a couple of the “uncles.” They stop, midconversation, as soon as I arrive. My suspicions perk, but I’m in the mood to let it go.

  “Nick! It’s so great to see you. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  He gathers me into a bear hug and practically pulls me off my feet. “Just got in today. I hate airports. But I couldn’t miss your big night.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “How’s our gorgeous girl tonight?” Uncle Tony reaches out for me, and I step into a big, bold embrace that nearly squeezes the blood from my upper body. “The food ain’t stickin’ around, doll. I think you should have made more.”

  “Well, it’s supposed to be a reception”—I give him a cheeky grin and nod toward his rounded plate—“not a buffet.”

  “Can’t help it.” The portly Italian returns my grin, without the grace to blush.

  It’s nice to be appreciated, at any rate. “Did you get any of the pigs in a blanket?” Joe sent one of the workers earlier to pick up the food for tonight so I wouldn’t have to cart food while I was trying to get ready for my big reveal. “I thought you might want to offer them through lunch.” I have to stop thinking along these lines. I’m an interior designer now.

  “’Ey! I was goin’ to bring that up,” Sam says, pulling me away from Tony into his own warm embrace. It’s hard for me to believe either of these guys could possibly be involved in mob activity. They’re sweet and cuddly. Gruff, like Nick, but not so anyone would really be threatened by it.

  Nick is grinning like he just won the lottery. “You done real good, girly. Didn’t she, Pop?”

  “Good. Like home.” The patriarch of the Pantalone family smiles at me and nods, gesturing around the room. I know he doesn’t speak English well enough to express how he’s feeling, but I see it in his eyes and it moves me. On impulse, I step close, rise on my toes, and press a kiss to his weathered cheek. “I’m happy you like it, sir.”

  I feel a stinging slap on my backside and gasp. Turning, I face the fury of Nana. “You must not kiss my husband.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Pantalone. Please. I would never. I’m so sorry.”

  “Ma, Laini wasn’t trying nothin’.” Nick speaks up on my behalf. “She was only being polite.”

  “Polite is handshake.” She glares at me and loops her arm through her husband’s, pulling him away from our little group.

  “You making a move on my grandpa?” I didn’t even notice Joe, but there he is, breathtakingly good-looking. He looks better than Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, and Frank Sinatra (and the rest of the Rat Pack) all rolled into one. “You look very put together this evening,” he says, eyeing me up and down. “I can see why Nana’s worried.”

  “If God truly was merciful, He’d just let the faux stone floors open up and swallow me.”

  He laughs and so do the uncles. Then, as though on cue, they sober up and silence ensues. The men are staring at Joe, clearly waiting for him to speak.

  I frown, looking from one to the other. “Is everything all right, guys?”

  Joe clears his throat. “The uncles would like to make you an offer.”

  One I can’t refuse? But I don’t say it since it didn’t go over very well last time I quipped about Joe’s family being mafia.

  He seems to read my face, and maybe I do sort of grin, because he sends me a “Don’t even go there” scowl. “Look, you guys,” he says. “She’s not going to listen to me. One of you can talk to her. I’m going to mingle.” And he stalks off.

  I stare after him. “Sheesh.” Rolling my eyes, I give my attention back to the uncles. “You were saying?”

  “You know he only gets mad ’cause he likes you so much,” Uncle Sam says.

  “If he liked me any more, I’d probably be black and blue.”

  “No. He’d never lay a finger on a woman. Joe ain’t that kind. He’s a good boy.”

  I grin at the three brothers. “I know. I was kidding. So what’s this offer he was talking about? You’re not trying to arrange a marriage between me and Joe, are you? Because that kind of thing doesn’t go over real big in the U.S.” I’m feeling heady with the excitement of the evening, and that’s the only excuse I have for winking at this group. “This might look like the old country, but it’s really just the ambience.”

  “Arranged marriage, ’ey?” Nick chuckles. “Not a bad idea. But we have something else in mind.”

  “Just as well, because Joe gets on my nerves. I’d probably knock him in the head with a skillet inside of a week. Then who would run this place for Nick?”

  “You got that right, young lady. I need that nephew of mine. So don’t hurt him.”

  I grin at Nick, then pan the three faces. “Well, gentlemen,” I say. “I’m all ears. What can I do for you?”

  Tony looks me in the eye and suddenly everyone is serious. “My breakfast and lunch crowds are up thirty percent since you started sending sandwiches and rolls. And it’s the same with these guys,” he says, jerking his thumb at his brothers.

  Pleasure shoots through me. “I’m so happy for you!” I still haven’t had the guts to tell them I’m cutting back once I start working for Janine.

  “You should be happy for yourself,” Nick says. “We want to set you up in business. Get you a little shop of your own and provide the dough to get you started.” />
  “By dough you mean . . .” Does he mean ingredients or . . .

  “Money,” Uncle Sam spits out. “You find a place, and we’ll front you the cost of getting started. You can’t keep working out of a house. You don’t have enough ovens for the orders we’re going to have and all the new business you’ll get when you’re in a better facility. Plus, now we’re going to want these croissants with weenies inside.”

  “Pigs in a blanket,” Uncle Tony corrects. “Sam’s right. You let us help you, and mark my words, you’ll be a prosperous young lady in no time. Believe me, I recognize talent when I taste it.” He grins at his own cheesy joke.

  Excitement bubbles up inside me at the very thought. “Are you guys serious? You know I can’t get a loan. I tried for a house a month ago and they said I don’t have enough of a credit history or enough job experience—with the new job—and it’s been over a year since I worked for Ace Accounting.” Although I don’t know who’s more qualified than someone who worked for eight years as a successful accountant.

  “I know, honey,” Nick says. “We want to spot you the money. You’ll get fifty percent of the business until we’re paid off; then it’s all yours.”

  “And that would be in writing?”

  The guys burst into laughter.

  “Listen to her,” Tony says. “Already playing hardball. You bet it would be in writing, doll. Anything you want in writing, we’ll sign. No one has that special touch like you. The place would be a gold mine. And don’t worry. You’d charge us just like anyone else. Our cut comes out of the bottom line.”

  “Well, it sounds good. I’ll have to think about it and pray about it some.”

  “You do that,” Uncle Sam says. “I go to Mass every couple of months, myself.”

  Uncle Tony gives him an affectionate little backhand. “A guy like you oughtta go more than once every couple a months.”

  “Looks like Joe wants you,” Nick says.

  I catch my breath. “H-how do you know?”

  “Because he’s waving for you to go over there by that iron rail. By the steps there.”

  My face burns. “Oh. Okay, I’ll get back to you guys as soon as I’ve had time to process this.”

  And just like that, I turn to find Joe grinning at me. Instinctively, I know he was rescuing me from his uncles. He knows all about their plans for me, so when I reach him, it’s only natural when he leans forward and asks, “So, what do you think?”