“Good news.”
Connor returned to the purpose for his call. “I thought I’d stop in when I get to town. I have some paperwork on the new products and some ideas that I wanted to go over with you. Let you take a look and give me your opinion.”
Syl cleared his throat. “Connor, it’s not that I don’t care, but we have an agreement that you run the shop and make the decisions. I’m only a—”
“I know, sir, but I respect your comments and your expertise. I wouldn’t have talked to you if I didn’t.”
“I’m always happy to be a sounding board. Listen—”
Connor heard Syl’s voice shift from the phone, then a rustle of paper.
“Okay. Here’s an idea. I’m having some company in on Saturday. Stop by for dinner around six. Bring Caitlin if you’d like. You might as well get a meal out of it.”
Connor’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t wanted to make a social event out of it. He’d planned to keep things purely business, just as Ellene was doing, but how could he refuse his business partner? “That sounds fine. I’ll see you then.”
When he hung up, he forced himself to focus on the new shop, and all his ideas. Ellene had given him good advice. He took the time to analyze what had gone wrong with the shop as it stood, and the problems were obvious. He wondered if Ellene would admire him more when she learned he’d studied the store before jumping into an agreement. If he didn’t have her love, he coveted her respect.
As the thought sat in his mind, he struck his palm against the steering wheel. Why did he care about Ellene’s opinion on anything? She’d undermined his life so far. Why would he think she would try to ruin his business?
He shook his head. Lord, give me patience and forgiveness. I don’t want to be vindictive and I’ve already taken a step in that direction by soliciting her father’s aid. Help me be the model of a Christian man and learn to turn the other cheek.
“Happy birthday, Ellene.” Her aunt Teresa grabbed Ellene’s cheeks and kissed her.
“Thanks,” Ellene said, accepting her aunt’s package and setting it on the foyer table. “Let me take your jacket.”
Her aunt waved her away. “You go ahead. Uncle Gino is parking the car. I’ll let him take it upstairs.”
Ellene grasped the gift and carried it into the living room, setting it in front of the fireplace where other gifts had been piled.
She hated birthday parties. She felt as if she were ten, especially now when she hadn’t been in the mood for anything like this. But her mother had insisted—a nice little family dinner. The word little wasn’t in the vocabulary of an Italian family. Already her aunt Carmela and uncle Donato had arrived along with their son Tito and his wife.
Cold hands covered her eyes, and she could tell who it was from the scent of garlic on his hands. “Uncle Gino. Did you bring flat bread?”
“How’d you guess?” he asked, tweaking her cheek.
“I’m getting smarter with every year.” And my nose is getting more sensitive, she mentally added.
Someone had turned on the television, cranking up the volume so it could be heard above their voices. Ellene knew the pattern. The family just talked louder.
“The Tigers are losers,” Tito called from the dining room.
Uncle Gino jumped up from his chair and shook his fist. “Don’t get smart-mouthed with me,” he said, a chuckle in his voice. “I’ll give you five bucks if the White Sox win.”
“Great. I can use the money,” Tito yelled, darting from the room as laughter drowned out the announcer.
The doorbell rang again, and Ellene watched her father answer it. “If it isn’t my goombah.”
From the greeting, she knew it was a long-time family friend. Seeing an opportunity to slip away, she wove through the family gathered between the living room and kitchen, then stepped onto the enclosed porch. The din seemed muted there.
She leaned against the windowsill, looking out. Spring had finally made an appearance. Though the temperature was in the low sixties, she saw the promise of trees in bloom and tulips peeking up from the ground. A few more warm days, and spring would surely arrive.
Easter was tomorrow, and the festival always made her think of things being reborn, fresh and new. She’d promised her parents she would go to their worship service tomorrow even though she’d found another congregation she enjoyed more, but the church was too contemporary for her parents.
The noise grew, and Ellene sank into a wicker chair, wondering how Connor was spending his day. She’d spoken to him twice and had been deeply disappointed. His tone was cool and restrained, and she figured he was still angry. Once again she’d thought Connor would have called her. When would she learn?
Her promise to Caitlin filled her mind. She should call Connor and see if he’d let her take Caitlin somewhere. Maybe the zoo once the temperature warmed or— She went blank. Where did people take children?
Ellene rested her elbows on her knees and lowered her face to her hands. She’d messed up again. She was thirty years old today. She would have thought with time she’d learned something.
She hadn’t.
Connor pulled up in front of the Bordinis’ home and turned off the engine. The house looked the same, except the shutters appeared to be a different color, but he didn’t trust his memory. He’d always found their home attractive—a big colonial in Sterling Heights. Randazoo’s Produce, Buscemi’s Pizza, Papa Vito’s Restaurant, Bordini’s Construction—Italian businesses abounded in the community.
He hadn’t taken up Syl Bordini’s offer to bring Caitlin. A dinner party didn’t seem an appropriate place for a child. It wasn’t even that appropriate for him to be here, since he’d come with business in mind.
He stepped out of the car with a hopeful feeling that spring might be close by. When he gazed down the street at a couple of brave trees beginning to bud, his heart stopped. He squinted, trying to decide if that was Ellene’s sedan. He wasn’t certain, but it looked like hers.
Connor reached back inside the vehicle and picked up the box of chocolates and the envelope that held the business information for Mr. Bordini.
He headed up the walk, worried that Ellene would make a scene if she saw him there or that she would assume he’d plotted a way to get invited. After pushing the doorbell, he stood waiting, hearing the sounds from inside. Ellene’s family. He remembered them all so well. They’d always filled him with food, love and pure joy. Why had he ever doubted that he’d be accepted by the Bordinis?
The door swung open, and Ellene’s father greeted him with an enthusiastic handshake. “Come in. Come in,” he said, glancing into the living room where the baseball game and the conversation had reached a hundred decibels, he guessed.
“These are for Mrs. Bordini,” he said, thrusting the chocolate box toward him.
“Hold on to it. You can give it to her yourself. But first—” Mr. Bordini beckoned him down the hallway. “We can talk in here,” he said, closing the door of his home office. “You know family.”
“I know yours, sir.”
“Connor. We’re business partners now. You don’t have to call me sir. Plain old Syl will do just fine.”
“Thank you, Syl.”
“Give me your jacket and tell me what’s in that envelope.”
Connor set the chocolates on a chair and slipped off his jacket, then waited until Syl had pulled up a chair near his before he opened the envelope. “First, I studied the shop and the records, then realized what was lacking: winter sports equipment. Summer gear packed the shelves and displays, but I didn’t see any orders for cross-country skis, ice skates, sleds, snowmobiles, that kind of thing.”
“Any business has to be seasonal,” Syl said. “Good observation.”
“I realize snowmobiles are an expensive inventory, but I’ve talked to the owner of a business in Algonac and we might work out a deal. I keep one in stock, and he’ll send the snowmobiles in from the mainland. Profit will be lower, but it saves me storage, and it can
be a fast turnaround. I could have the snowmobile by the next day.”
He nodded his head. “Very practical. Excellent idea.”
“Thanks, and I also noticed the shop doesn’t carry bicycles. That’s a great form of transportation. Exercise equipment is another thought, but these are just my observations.”
“You’ve given it a lot of thought, Connor.”
Connor handed Syl the contents from the envelope. “Here’s the information. You can look it over. I value your comments.”
“You got it,” Syl said, rising and placing the documents on his desk. “Now, how about a drink or some appetizers? Mona made some of her specialties. You remember her cheese and prosciutto roll-ups? Dinner will be ready soon.” He gave Connor a solid pat on the back.
“That sounds good,” Connor said, rising and following him back down the hallway into the living room, carrying the chocolates.
Voices faded as he stepped into a room full of people. The television’s volume resounded with a three-base hit for the Tigers while a roar rang through the stadium.
“You remember Connor Faraday,” Syl said, shaking his shoulder. “He was Ellene’s fiancé.”
The title nailed him to the floor. Eyebrows raised, and vaguely familiar faces looked from one to another until a woman stepped forward and clutched his cheeks between her palms.
“Connor. How could we forget?” She kissed him on the mouth. “I’m Ellene’s aunt Teresa.”
“Yes,” he said, more startled than he let on. “It’s nice to see you.”
Syl grasped his arm and pointed. “Connor, you remember Uncle Gino, Tito and his wife Lucy, Uncle Donato.” His arm swung toward the doorway. “Aunt Carmela is in the kitchen.” He motioned again. “And my goombah Frankie and his wife Florence.”
Connor nodded. “It’s nice to see you,” he said, shaking hands as he surveyed the room. “And nice to meet you,” he added to Frankie and Florence.
“Connor!”
He looked up to see Ellene’s mother, Mona, charging across the room, her arms open wide.
“Mrs. Bordini,” he said, extending his hand, but that did little good. She wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.
“It’s been too long, Connor. How nice of you to come to Ellene’s birthday party.”
Birthday party. He faltered, looking at the box of chocolates, but no gift for Ellene. He wanted to sink through the floor.
“Syl didn’t tell me it was Ellene’s birthday party.”
“No?” She eyed her husband, then the chocolates.
“These are for you,” he said, wishing he’d brought flowers and candy.
“Thank you, Connor, and what difference if you knew or not. You’re a gift for coming.” She gestured toward the dining-room buffet through the archway. “Have some hors d’oeuvres. Uncle Gino brought some flat bread. I remember you loved that with the roasted peppers. Dinner will be ready soon.”
“Look at that batter run,” someone yelled, his eyes riveted on the TV.
Eyes turned from him to the baseball game, and Connor slunk from the room toward the buffet, knowing he would soon find Ellene somewhere in the gathering.
The closer he got to the kitchen the stronger the tantalizing aromas grew. He’d loved meals at the Bordinis’ home. Rich pastas with giant-sized meat-balls, homemade ravioli, Mona’s own fettuccine in alfredo sauce, spinach sautéed in garlic and olive oil. He could go on forever about the wonderful delights he’d had at Ellene’s.
As he placed a sample of appetizers on the paper plate, Syl approached him with a hangdog look. “Mona’s biting my head off for not telling you the dinner was for Ellene’s birthday.”
“I wondered why myself.” Connor balanced the plate, feeling uncomfortable.
He gave a feeble shrug. “I guessed you and Ellene had a tiff. I figured this could help break the ice.”
Connor’s voice caught in his throat. “I’m not sure I want to break the ice. I’m sorry, but she’s—”
“You don’t have to tell me. I know my daughter. She’ll see the light, Connor. Give her time.” He squeezed Connor’s arm and made his way back to the bedlam around the TV.
Connor ambled away from the noise. Fearing he’d see Ellene, he bypassed the kitchen and headed for the enclosed porch where he hoped he could find some solitude to think. Ellene’s birthday. He felt like a heel having shown up. And without a gift.
Ellene’s father had known he wouldn’t come if he’d told him. Connor stood in the threshold of the porch, weighing their conversation. He let the thought simmer as he stepped onto the porch and faltered, seeing Ellene sitting alone. His heart flew to his throat.
Her eyes widened, then squinted into a frown. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve asked myself that same question,” he said, forcing himself to amble toward her. “I needed to have a brief meeting with your father, and he invited me to stop by. I didn’t know it was your birthday party until I got here.”
She jerked her head away and folded her arms across her chest. “Dad! Isn’t he a gem?”
“Actually he is, Ellene. He’s a good man.”
She spun back. “I know that, but he meddles in my life, Connor. I don’t need that.”
But maybe you do, Connor thought.
“Meeting?” Her scowl broadened. “What kind of a meeting?”
She didn’t know. His stomach twisted and he set the plate of appetizers on the wicker table. There was no way he could eat now, and he needed to get out of here.
“Some business. It’s between your father and me.”
“Business?” She shook her head.
“There you are.” Syl’s voice boomed from the doorway.
“I should have guessed I’d find you here.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Connor’s shoulders. “So what do you think, Ellene?”
“Think about what?” she asked, her confused expression growing as she looked from her father to him.
“Our partnership,” her father said.
Her mouth gaped. “Partnership? You and Connor?”
“He’s got a good head on his shoulders.” He gave him a hearty pat again. “I’m giving him moral support.”
“And some financial help,” Connor added, “until I can take over on my own.”
Ellene closed her mouth, but the pinched look remained. “That’s nice for you both.” She rose and swept past them into the house.
Syl gave him a bewildered look.
Connor offered a feeble smile. “Who can understand a woman?”
He turned back toward the doorway, and Connor followed, fearing Syl had messed things up for good.
Chapter Thirteen
Ellene stormed into the dining room, overwhelmed by Connor’s presence, but the emotion again swung between anger and adulation. A partnership. Her dad and Connor. Though it startled her, Ellene couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. What are you doing, Lord?
She’d missed Connor so much the past two weeks, and once again her pride and stubbornness had kept her from giving in. She wanted to ask him about Caitlin, but even saying her name would bring her to tears.
“I’ve been looking for you,” her mother said, hurrying in from the living room. “Can you help get the food on the table? We want everyone to eat while it’s warm.”
Ellene nodded and stepped into the kitchen, overtaken by the delicious scents of her mother’s cooking. Yet the thought of food shriveled when she pictured Connor at the family table, his smug expression aimed at her.
But Connor hadn’t had a smug expression, she recalled. He’d looked as startled as she felt. Maybe he had forgotten her birthday and the situation had been her father’s doing. He’d always liked Connor, and she wouldn’t put it past him to try and patch their relationship.
She carried the huge salad bowl and Italian dressing to the table, then returned for the pasta and garlic bread.
Her mother brought in a platter of chicken that smelled as if it had fallen into a garlic p
atch. Aunt Teresa passed her with green beans and mashed potatoes.
A feast for her birthday.
“Mangi. Mangi,” her mother called into the living room, to announce it was time to eat.
The family rose, leaving the television on, and came into the dining room. Ellene watched them come through the doorway, their voices in contest to see who could top the next as they settled around the table.
Her stomach tightened, watching for Connor to appear, but he didn’t and she feared he’d left after her cold response. Her father took the head of the table and glanced over his shoulder.
Connor finally appeared, apologizing that he’d gone to wash his hands. He sat across from her. Everyone was seated expect her mother who stood near her father at the end of the table.
Her dad bowed his head and the family joined in as he blessed the food and her birthday. As soon as the amen was spoken, arms shot forward to lift dishes of food. The talk began, and Ellene felt overwhelmed by Connor’s face across the table and her inability to speak with him, to apologize or to at least ask about Caitlin.
“Buon appetito!” her father called, raising his glass. The others repeated his good wishes on the food, and the dishes passed as each filled their plates. Ellene pushed her food around, longing to enjoy the delicious meal. Her mother walked around the table, moving the dishes from one spot to another, refilling empty platters, and hovering over the table.
“Eat something, Mom,” Ellene said. She knew her mother wouldn’t listen. It was the Italian way for the hostess to wait on the table until others ate. Then her mother would grab a plate and eat in the kitchen as she rinsed the dirty dishes. She’d seen the same at her aunt Teresa’s and aunt Carmela’s. It was the Italian way, and she was glad she’d been born into a new generation that didn’t find it necessary.
She glanced at Connor when she thought he was looking the other direction or concentrating on his meal. His appetite didn’t seem much better than hers. He looked up and caught her watching him. He looked away without a blink. The disinterest jarred her.
Ellene wanted to scream. Her feelings were as tangled as the fettuccine on the platter. Each emotion wrapped around another until she couldn’t find where one ended and one began. How could she love someone and push him away at the same time?
In His Eyes Page 13
