“We can’t do that in front of Pia, Mom. It will hurt her too much.”
“No, it won’t. I know something you don’t.”
Belle blinked in shock and took the baby from her. “Are you teasing me?”
“No. She told me yesterday.”
Yesterday... Belle was so excited, she could hardly stand it. “Does she know about you?”
“Yes, but our husbands don’t know yet. Obviously, yours doesn’t, either.” Her mother flashed a secretive smile. “We decided to make this a real surprise party tonight. To know you’re pregnant, too... Three in one family at the same time has to be some kind of world record.”
“I agree. How do you want to handle it?”
“I think it should be something that shocks our husbands. You know how they love to be in control at all times. It’s a Malatesta trait. Don’t you think it would be fun just this once to throw them off base?”
She had an imp in her that Belle would never have guessed was there. “There’s nothing I’d love more.” She’d been standing by a window that overlooked the maze. Suddenly her brain started reeling with possibilities. “In fact, I’ve got an idea. First we’re going to need poster board and hundreds of yards of ribbon in three colors.”
“What on earth do you have in mind, darling?”
“A game. We love games, don’t we, Concetta.” She kissed her daughter’s cheeks. “This one is going to be for all the men in the family to play. But this game will be different, because each man will end up getting the prize he’s always wanted.”
* * *
After a successful business meeting, Leon rushed home early to be with his family. The party wasn’t scheduled to start for an hour and a half. That would give him enough time to enjoy his wife while his daughter had her nap. Up until this morning, when Belle had stayed asleep, she’d always been so loving and responsive, he knew he was the luckiest man on earth.
Disappointment washed over him in waves when he walked in and Simona informed him that everyone had left for the palazzo hours ago. The news hit him like a body blow. He’d been longing to lie in Belle’s arms and forget the world for a little while. She made him feel immortal.
As he took the stairs two at a time to the master bedroom, he realized how empty the villa was without them. The thought of no Belle, his creative, adorable wife, was anathema to him.
All Leon had to do was shower and shave. He and Dante had gone in on a gift for their father. Sullisto had mislaid his old watch and hadn’t found it yet, so they’d bought him a new one with their names engraved in it. Dante would be bringing it to the party.
For the occasion Leon had bought himself a new, light gray suit. Belle had told him several times how much she liked him in gray, the color of his eyes. Hating the silence of the house, he hurriedly dressed, and drove to the palazzo at a speed over the limit. He never drove this fast with Belle and Concetta, but he was in a hurry to see them.
When he pulled up in front, he saw his father and brother waiting for him in the courtyard, dressed in what looked like new suits. Leon levered himself from the driver’s seat.
“Buon compleanno, Papà.” He kissed him on both cheeks. “What’s going on? Why are you out here?”
“We’ve been given our instructions, Leonardo.” Sullisto didn’t sound in the least happy.
Dante’s dark brows lifted. “We were told to stay out here, and that when you got here, we were to go to the entrance of the maze to await further instructions.”
Leon chuckled. He thought he could see his playful wife’s hand in this somewhere. “Where’s my family?”
“They’re all inside,” his father muttered, looking flustered. “Let’s get this foolishness over with.”
“It is your birthday, Papà.”
“You’re just going to have to be a good sport even if you are a year older,” Dante teased.
They headed through the vine-covered gate to the maze. “I told Luciana I didn’t want any fuss,” Sullisto grumbled.
When they reached the entrance, there was a sign in Italian. Start Following Your Ribbon. Red for Sullisto, Yellow for Dante and Blue for Leon. Don’t Open Your Prizes When You Find Them. Bring Them to the Terrace, Where More Festivities Will Ensue.
Hmm. A prize. Just what did Leon’s wife have in store for him? For the first time in years he got the kind of excited feeling he used to get as a child when his mother hid something they wanted, and they had to find it. He put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “You go first, Papà.”
“For the love of heaven,” Sullisto mumbled.
With a grin, Dante followed him.
Leon brought up the rear. The ribbons led them on such a serpentine route, he started laughing. Dante joined in. Their father had gone on ahead and had disappeared. He just wanted to get the game over with.
“This is one game we never played in here,” his brother quipped.
“Nope.” And Leon knew why. Belle hadn’t grown up with them. Her advent in his life had changed his entire world. “I guess this is where we part company. My ribbon has taken off in a new direction. See you in a minute.”
“Call out if you get lost.”
“That’ll be the day, little brother.”
Leon kept going until he came to a small package on the ground tied up with the end of the ribbon. Picking it up, he followed the ribbon back to the opening of the maze. Pretty soon his father emerged with an identical package.
“I think Dante must have gotten lost.”
“I heard that, big brother.” In the next breath Dante made his appearance with his own package.
Sullisto muttered, “I hope this is the end of the games. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
The three of them walked around to the terrace with the ribbons trailing behind.
“Careful you don’t trip on those,” Luciana called out from the table, looking particularly radiant in an ice-blue dress. “Happy birthday, my darling husband.”
Pia sat next to her in a stunning pink outfit.
Leon’s gaze sought his wife, who was wearing a gorgeous purple dress with spaghetti straps. She was so beautiful he almost dropped his package.
Luciana smiled at all of them. “As soon as you open your gifts, we’ll eat.”
Her smile was like the cat who’d swallowed the proverbial canary. Something was going on....
Leon opened his package. Inside was a small oblong box containing a home pregnancy device, of all things. His heart thundered in his chest before he even looked inside it. Belle’s cobalt eyes had found his. They resembled blue fires, telling him everything that was in her heart.
It came to him then that everyone on the terrace had gone silent. When he looked around, he saw that both his brother and his father held similar boxes in their hands, and were totally dumbstruck.
Sullisto raised his head and looked at Luciana. “We’re pregnant?” he whispered in awe.
“Yes, darling. It finally happened.”
The look on his father’s face was one Leon would never forget.
Pia’s beaming countenance told its own story as she eyed Dante with loving eyes. “That trip to Florence,” she reminded him.
Suddenly pandemonium struck.
Leon dropped the box and gravitated to his wife, pulling her from the seat into his arms.
“Concetta won’t be an only child,” she said against his lips. “I hope you’re happy, Leon.”
“Happy?” he cried. “Ti amo, amore mio. Ti amo!” He kissed her long and hard.
It was in this euphoric condition that he heard his father tap the crystal goblet in front of him with a fork to get their attention. Everyone broke apart and sat down while Sullisto remained standing. He lifted his wineglass toward Belle.
He had to clear his th
roat several times. “To my wife’s firstborn, who came like an angel from across the ocean to bless the Houses of Malatesta and Donatello forever and make us all one.”
“Hear, hear,” an ecstatic Dante echoed, raising his glass.
Leon gripped Belle’s thigh beneath the table with one hand, and picked up his wineglass with the other. “Amen and amen.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Miracle in Bellaroo Creek by Barbara Hannay
CHAPTER ONE
Boutique business opportunity at Bellaroo Creek
Former bakery offered at nominal or deferred rental to help revitalise the town’s retail business.
Bellaroo Council, in support of the Regional Recovery Programme, is calling for expressions of interest to occupy and redevelop Lot 3 Wattle Street on a lease or freehold arrangement. Some bakery equipment is included in the assets.
Enquiries/business plan to J. P. Elliot CEO Bellaroo Council, 23 Wattle Street.
MILLA SAT ON the edge of the hospital bed, a cup of tea and sandwich untouched beside her.
It was over. She’d lost her baby, and any minute now the nice nurse would pop back to tell her she was free to go.
Go where? Back to the lonely motel room?
From down the hospital corridor the sounds of laughter drifted, along with the happy chatter of cheery visitors. Other patients’ visitors. Milla looked around her room, bare of cards or flowers, grapes or teddy bears. Her parents were away on a Mediterranean cruise and she hadn’t told anyone else that she was back in Australia.
Her Aussie friends still thought she was living the high life as the wife of a mega-rich Californian and she hadn’t been ready to confess the truth about her spectacularly failed marriage. Besides, the few of her friends who lived in Sydney were party girls, and, being pregnant, Milla hadn’t been in party mode. She’d been waiting till the next scan to announce the news about her baby.
But now...
Milla wrapped her arms over her stomach, reliving the cramping pains and terror that had brought her to the emergency ward. She had wept as the doctor examined her, and she’d sobbed helplessly when he told her that she was having a miscarriage. She’d cried for the little lost life, for her lost dreams.
Her marriage fiasco had shattered her hopes of ever finding love and trust in an adult relationship and she’d pinned everything on the promise of a soft, warm baby to hold. She longed for the special bond and unconditional love that only a baby could bring, and she’d been desperate to make a success of motherhood.
Such wonderful dreams she’d nurtured for her little boy or girl, and imagining the months ahead had been so much fun.
Along with watching a tiny, new human being discover the world, Milla had looked forward to patiently caring for her little one. Chances were, it would be a boy—the Cavanaugh wives always seemed to produce sons—and Milla had imagined bathing her little fellow, feeding him, dressing him in sweet little striped sleep-suits, coping with his colic and teething pains and the inevitable sleepless nights.
She’d pictured trips to the park and to the beach as he grew, had even seen herself making his first birthday cake with a cute single candle, and issuing invitations to other mums and babes to join in the party.
Now...
‘Ten to twenty per cent of known pregnancies end in miscarriage,’ the doctor had informed her matter-of-factly.
But Milla could only see this as another failure on top of her failed marriage. After all, if the statistics were turned around, eighty to ninety per cent of pregnancies were absolutely fine. Just as two thirds of marriages were perfectly happy.
The irony was, she’d become pregnant in a last-ditch attempt to save her marriage. When that had proved to be clearly impossible, she’d turned her hopes and ambitions inwards. To her child.
She’d been mega careful with her diet, taking all the right vitamins and folates, and, although she’d been through a great deal of stress and a long flight from LA to Sydney, she’d made sure that her new lifestyle included a healthy balance of rest and exercise and fresh air.
And yet again, she’d failed. Fighting tears, Milla packed her toothbrush and wallet into the carryall she’d hastily filled when she’d left for the hospital.
It was time to go, and after one last look around the small white room she set off down the long hospital corridor.
The final years of her marriage to Harry Cavanaugh had been grim, but she’d never felt this low...or this lost...as if she’d been cast adrift in a vast and lonely sea.
Fleetingly, she wondered if she should let Harry know about the baby. But why bother? He wouldn’t care.
* * *
In his midtown Manhattan office, Ed Cavanaugh was absorbed in reading spreadsheets when his PA buzzed that he had an important call. Time was tight and the info on his computer screen was critical. Ed ignored the buzzer and continued scanning the lines of figures.
A minute later, he sensed his PA at the door.
‘Mr Cavanaugh?’
Without looking up, Ed raised a silencing hand as he took a note of the figures he’d been hunting. When he was finished, and not a millisecond before, he shot a glance over the top of his glasses. ‘What is it, Sarah?’
‘A call from Australia. It’s Gary Kemp and I was sure you’d want to speak to him.’
Gary Kemp was the Australian private detective Ed’s family had had hired to track down his escapee sister-in-law. An unexpected tension gripped Ed. Had Milla been found?
‘Put him through,’ he said, closing down the screen.
Scant seconds later, his line buzzed again and he snatched up the receiver. ‘Gary, any news?’
‘Plenty, Mr C.’
‘Have you found her? Is she still in Australia?’ They already knew that Milla had caught a flight from LA to Sydney.
‘She’s still in the country, but you’ll never guess where.’
Ed grimaced. This Aussie detective could be annoyingly cocky. Ed had no intention of playing guessing games, although in this case it would be dead easy to take a stab at Milla’s whereabouts. Her tastes were totally predictable. She would be holed up in a harbourside penthouse, or in a luxury resort at one of those famous Australian beaches.
‘Just tell me,’ he demanded with a spurt of irritation.
‘Try Bellaroo Creek.’
‘Bella-who what?’
‘Bellaroo Creek,’ Gary repeated with a chuckle. ‘Middle of nowhere. Dying town. Population three hundred and seventy-nine.’
Ed let out a huff of surprise. ‘Where exactly is this middle of nowhere?’
‘Little tinpot whistle-stop in western New South Wales, about five hours’ drive from Sydney.’
‘What are you telling me? My sister-in-law passed through this place?’
‘No, she’s still there, mate. Seems it’s her hometown.’
Just in time, Ed stopped himself from asking the obvious. Of course, his brother’s sophisticated socialite wife must have grown up in this Bellaroo Creek place, but he found the news hard to swallow.
‘Her family’s long gone,’ the detective went on. ‘So have most of the former residents. As I said, the place is on its last legs. These days it’s practically a ghost town.’
None of this made sense to Ed. ‘Are you sure you have the right Milla Cavanaugh?’
‘No doubt about it. It’s her all right, although she’s using her maiden name, Brady. Interesting. As far as I can tell, she’s barely touched her bank accounts.’
‘No way,’ retorted Ed. ‘You can’t have the right woman.’
‘Check your emails,’ Gary Kemp responded dryly. ‘This isn’t amateur hour, mate, as you’ll soon see from my invoice. I’ve sent you the photo I took yesterday in Bellaroo Creek’s main street.’
&
nbsp; Frowning, Ed flicked to his emails, opened the link and there it was...a photo of a woman dressed in jeans and a roll-necked black cashmere sweater.
She was definitely Milla. Her delicate, high-cheek-boned beauty was in a class of its own. His younger brother had always won the best-looking women, no question.
Milla’s hair was different, though. Pale red-gold, with a tendency to curl, the way it had been when Ed had first met her, before she’d had it straightened and dyed blond to fit in with the other wives in Harry’s LA set.
‘OK,’ he growled, his throat unaccountably tight. ‘That’s helpful. I see you’ve sent an address, as well.’
‘Yeah. She’s staying at the Bellaroo pub. Booked in for a week, but I’m guessing she might think twice about staying that long. It’s so dead here, she could get jack of the place and shoot through any tick of the clock.’
‘Right. Thanks for the update. Keep an eye on her and keep me posted re her movements.’
‘No worries, Mr C.’
Ed hung up and went through to his PA’s desk. ‘We’ve found her.’
Sarah looked unexpectedly delighted. ‘That’s wonderful, Mr Cavanaugh. Does that mean Milla’s still in Australia? Is she OK?’
‘Yes on both counts. But it means I’m going to have to fly down there pronto. I’ll need you to reschedule the meetings with Cleaver Holdings.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Several people won’t be happy, but that’s too bad. Dan Brookes will have to handle their complaints and he can run any other meetings in my absence. I’ll brief him as soon as he’s free. Meantime, I want you to book me on the earliest possible flight to Sydney. And I’ll want a hire car ready to go.’
‘Of course.’
‘And can you ring Caro Marsden? Let her know I’ll be out of the country for a few days.’
To his surprise Sarah, his normally respectful PA, narrowed her eyes at him in an uncharacteristic challenge. ‘Ed,’ she said, which was a bad start. Sarah rarely used his given name. ‘You’ve been dating the poor woman for four months. Don’t you think you should—’
A Marriage Made in Italy Page 16
