“I’m going shopping,” I stated as Micah sat in the big recliner in the living room, brooding over the most recent refusal he received over the property.
“I’ll go with you,” he mumbled, clearly not interested in shopping, but he didn’t like me going out alone.
“No, you may not. I’ve got a couple last minute things I need for our party that you don’t need to see.”
A scowl crossed his face, “You aren’t going to make this a gigantic party, are you?”
“I only invited a hundred people, so no, I’m…” I watched his expression as the shock hit him. “I’m kidding,” I laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. “It’s just us and Mom and Kimmy.”
“David can’t make it?”
“No,” I frowned. “I—I guess he’s on a job for the new capo. Would you please talk to him about quitting—for Mom’s sake. She’s a nervous wreck when she knows what he’s doing.”
“I have,” he stated and then let it drop.
“Doesn’t he have enough money that he doesn’t need to—”
“It’s not that; he’s not ready to give it up. I think he wants to quit, but for some reason he seems to still be trying to get back in the Families’ good graces after wearing that wire. He won’t get into the details with me, but he’s getting along with the new capo—and Botachelli.”
“Who is Botachelli?”
“My Boss.”
“Has he—your boss—has he talked to you? I know you told him you’d only be able to—”
“Yeah, we talk.”
That surprised me because Micah had evidently made sure he was nowhere around me when he made those phone calls. “Frequently?”
He searched me with those deep green eyes. I think he was looking for signs of panic or distress. “Every few days.”
“How come I never—I mean, I had no idea that you were keeping in touch that closely.”
“You don’t need to hear those conversations.”
I eased myself into his lap. I hated to see him this way. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
He finally smiled and wrapped me in his warm embrace, “You can stay home and do your shopping with your mom when she gets back—unless you let me go with you.”
“I can handle going out by myself. You know most people don’t recognize me with the blonde hair.” I could tell he was getting ready to argue with me. “And my sunglasses, and my hat,” I added. “You won’t let me drive my Aero, so that can’t give me away.” A couple of the clips on Remake had shown me with my fabulous car, so it was almost as famous as me. “But, for my birthday, I would like to take it out of the garage for a little—”
“No. You’re too wild behind the wheel.”
“Ah! I know how to behave myself.”
“Yes, you do, but not behind the wheel of that car.”
“Please,” I crooned, and then kissed his neck. I could see he was softening. “Just for a little drive?”
“Maybe, but just for your birthday, and just for a little while. No speeding, no racing, and—”
“I get the picture. But, right now, I’ve got shopping to do and I will be fine.”
“Please,” he re-asked.
“No. I’m a big girl and I can go out alone.”
He put his hands on my stomach and laughed, “Not exactly, but you are getting there.”
“Ah! Remember, no remarks about the size of this baby for my birthday.”
He kissed me and let me go, “It’s not your birthday, yet.”
“Close enough—no tummy remarks!”
I was still fuming that he actually said I was ‘getting there’ as I walked out to my Aston Martin. “I should take my Aero just to thank him for the comment,” I snapped to myself, but I wasn’t that vindictive—and in all honesty, I was ‘getting there.’ But the doctor said my weight was perfect. I was, so far, a textbook pregnancy, according to Doctor Kannova. I took a deep, cleansing breath as I slipped on to the leather seat and started my car.
It didn’t take long for me to remember I was on a fun mission. I was going to the bookstore to find a home plan book so I could wrap it up and give it to him, but I had waited until it was close to the day so ‘Snoopy’ wouldn’t find it before the party. I also was picking up a copy of the deed to the property. I hadn’t decided if I wanted to frame it, stick it inside the plan book, or what I was going to do with it.
I found the perfect magazine. They were all larger, southern style homes some with Italian influences, some with French influences. “Awesome,” I whispered to myself as I headed to the front of the store.
There was a tall, muscular, brown haired man in a suit, stepping into the line just in front of me. He turned and flashed me a polite smile. He didn’t appear more than somewhere in his mid to late twenties, but from his creamy tan skin, black-brown eyebrows and golden eyes, one word popped into my head: Italian.
“Mi dispiace, Ladies first. Prego.” he offered.
Okay, he not only looked Italian, but he spoke Italian.
I took a step back. “No. Grazie.” I didn’t know more than a few phrases that Micah had taught me to impress Giorgio.
He seemed very surprised, “Parli italiano?”
“Poco. Tu parli inglese?”
“Yes, but it is not often that I run into anyone in the States who knows anything more than Ciao.”
“Well, you’ve just heard most of the Italian that I know.”
“Please, go ahead of me,” he offered again.
“No, that’s okay. I’m not in that big of a hurry.”
The cashier rang up his Car and Driver magazine. He turned and smiled as he picked it up and tucked it under his arm. “It was nice to meet you. My name is Jonathan Rossi, and you are?”
I didn’t know how to answer. Annalisa was completely off limits since that was my one-word stage name from Remake. Leese was okay, but Winslett was not to be mentioned, and I didn’t know if Gavarreen was a good idea either.
“Ah…Leese,” I finally settled on, accepting his offered hand.
“Aleasee?”
“No. I’m sorry. It’s just Leese. It’s a nickname actually, but it’s what everyone calls me.”
“Are you building a house?” he asked as I placed my magazine in front of the cashier.
I was getting more nervous by the second as this man continued the conversation. I knew I was stereotyping him. Just because the man was Italian didn’t mean he was mafia. Get a grip, I told myself as I inhaled and tried a smile, “Yes, actually, my husband and I bought some property and we’re just trying to get some ideas about different house plans.”
“That is what I do! I am an architect—well, in Italy I am an architect. I have not opened an office here in the States, yet.”
That was an unexpected relief. I was looking for signs of a shoulder harness under his Armani suit. The cashier gave me the total, but instead of grabbing my plastic and possibly exposing my real name, I paid cash.
“What kind of designs do you like?” he continued. “Are you looking for Traditional, Neo-Traditional, French Country, English tutor, Greek, or perhaps my favorite, Tuscan?”
“I—we haven’t decided yet. But I’m leaning toward something that might be along the lines of southern craftsman style.”
“I have worked craftsman style into Tuscan before with interesting results.”
I began to walk slowly for the door. I didn’t want him to continue following me out to the parking lot, so I was trying to give him enough time to end this conversation before I stepped outside. “I’m trying to remember what Tuscan style looks like,” I honestly stated.
“Much of the countryside in Italy is Tuscan style. Red to brown stucco, raw beams and exposed wood, tile roofs—it is very beautiful, if you are Italian. You do look Italian.”
I never considered what ethnic group I looked like, but I certainly didn’t think, with my ultra blonde pixie hair, that I looked anything like an Italian.
“Are you a natural
blond?”
“Ah—in this country that question would be considered rude,” I said sharply.
“Oh—mi dispiace—I mean, I am sorry,” he said, blushing a little and holding the door open for me. “Forgive me. I did not mean to be nosy or to make you uncomfortable. I just have not made many friends here yet and I guess I am—how would you say—a little over-anxious to have someone to make conversation with. It was nice to have met you, Leese. Once again, I apologize.” He turned and headed for the parking lot.
Okay, now I was feeling bad for snubbing him. “I should be the one apologizing for snapping at you like that,” I quickly added.
He turned and smiled, “It is okay. If this was Italy and I talked this much with a married woman, I would most likely get… What is the American phrase? Get the crap beat out of me,” he laughed. “Ciao, Leese.”
I thought that was pretty funny as I headed toward my car. I tossed my magazine onto the passenger’s seat and started my engine. I hadn’t been in the store long, but the car was an oven in the mid-June Florida sunshine. I turned the air conditioning to the coldest setting and dropped the shifter into reverse and began to ease out of my parking spot. Suddenly another car was right behind me. I was quick on the brake, but I still felt a gentle bump as the cars made contact.
Immediately, I was furious. I put my car in first gear and drove the two feet back into the parking space. I opened my door and stepped out, but paused as I realized that I needed to reassess if this was a safe thing to do or not. The car behind me was a fabulous metal-gray Ferrari Enzo. Surely this wasn’t a threat driving something so exquisite. The lambo door (exactly like my Aero) rose up and out stepped Jonathan. Maybe this was a threat—a very well-dressed, well-mannered, well-driven threat.
He spouted off something that sounded like an Italian cuss word and then turned his head toward me. He seemed to jump slightly when he understood who he had just run into. “Are you okay? I am so sorry, this was all my fault. I only looked down for an instant.”
I walked cautiously to the back of my car. There was a tiny smear of gray paint, but it was otherwise fine. I looked to the front of his car and noticed that he too had been quick on the brake as the damage was barely noticeable.
“It’s fine; nothing more than swapping a little paint, mostly yours.”
“Yes, I had this repainted several weeks ago, I am sure it is not fully cured.”
“Then you do this a lot?” I chuckled.
He looked perplexed and then he realized that I was asking if he runs into people a lot. “No, no, not at all. Ferrari comes basically in three colors, but I prefer Titanium over their Silver so I had it repainted. Are you sure you are okay—I mean, a lady in your condition… Perhaps I should call for an ambulance?”
“I think we bumped into each other at a total of about two miles per hour—I’m fine.”
“Let me at least pay to have that paint buffed off your car,” he offered, pulling out his wallet.
“No. And to tell you the truth, it had to have been my fault because I should have seen you coming. But I swear I looked and thought you were much further away, barely moving.”
“You see it is not your fault. You are correct. My magazine slid to the floor and I slowed to pick it up and then hit the gas without looking. You have a beautiful car—I am sure your husband will be furious. Please let me give you something for this.”
By this point the driver to the car next to mine had come out of the store and was climbing into her vehicle. Jonathan’s car was blocking her in.
“Please,” Jonathan stated, quickly writing something on a hundred dollar bill. “Take this. My number is on it. If it is more, call me and I will pay the extra.” Then he smiled broadly, “Or if you would like some architectural help, I could offer my services.”
“Thank you,” I said. I didn’t want the money, but for the sake of time and getting him out of the way of the lady with the annoyed expression beside me, I accepted it. And, perhaps, it would come in handy to know an architect.
He drove away and I pulled out and headed for Lyle’s office.
CHAPTER seven
When I woke June eighteenth, Micah was raised up beside me, staring intently.
“What?”
“I’m your cook for the day—or errand boy, depending on what you want to eat. Comment-free food; just tell me what you want.”
“You make a wonderful omelet.”
“That’s not weird.”
“With chicken-apple sausage, broccoli, Asiago, onions—yeah, lots of onions.”
“Okay, now you’re talking weird. By the way, the onions can ruin kissing about as bad as a cigar.”
“Not if we both eat onions,” I laughed.
My chef rolled out of bed smiling, “Don’t get up, baby. Spoiling comes with the birthday—I’ll bring breakfast up here.”
I certainly felt like I was getting the better end of the birthday as I pulled my Aero out of the garage after breakfast. We drove along the beach and then stopped at an Indian café for lunch because I was getting an urge to eat a curried chicken salad. Then it was back home to relax out by the pool until supper was delivered. I was having Micah’s favorite New Orleans cuisine catered, but I had made his cake, from scratch the day before and had it waiting in the refrigerator. It was after dark when the food arrived, and it was delicious, but my cake was the highlight as everyone moaned with approval as to how it turned out. We moved from the dining room out to the pool deck to finish off the evening.
“Present time,” Micah stated.
“Me first,” Kimmy excitedly announced. She grabbed the boxes she had brought down and handed one to me and one to Micah. For me, she had picked out a beautiful sterling silver covered baby book. The cover of the book was also a picture frame. For Micah, she picked out a deep green silk tie and gold tie-clip engraved with his initials.
Mom had purchased gifts that were on the silly side, but silly was okay with us. There were several tee-shirts for Micah, me, and the baby with funny sayings on each. My favorite was the baby’s shirt that had an arrow pointing up labeled Pacifier and a down arrow labeled Diaper. Although, we did find two tee-shirts in the box that would never be worn in public. Micah had one with what appeared to be a large sperm cell on the front that read, ‘My Boy Can Swim!’ and there was one for me that read, “Stupid Knocked Me Up!” with an arrow to the side.
Mom turned scarlet, “David picked those two out.”
At that statement, Micah began to roll with laughter. As we folded them up and placed them in the box, he rose up and said he’d be right back. He had two boxes, handing me the larger one first. I opened it and found a mouth-watering, forty-eight piece box of Godiva “G” collection chocolates.
“Okay, you bought this for me, so it has to be guilt free—comment free.”
“Deal.” Then he handed me a smaller rectangular wrapped package. I pulled away the paper to reveal a velvet box.
“You said diamonds and chocolates, so I’m guessing this is a diamond.”
“Just open it,” he breathed anxiously.
I opened the box to find a stunning, pear-shaped orange stone of approximately two or three carats, in twined in a golden choker that looked like vines linked together. “It—it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a stone quite like this. Is it a—”
“It’s a diamond,” he answered softly. “I was trying to find you a certified true red diamond, but there are only about twenty in the world and I couldn’t find one for sale. But the brilliant orange is pretty rare too—just like you. Happy birthday, Annalisa.”
“Put it on me,” I asked as Kimmy and Mom oohed and aahed over the necklace. He removed it from the box and fastened it around my neck.
“Wow,” was Mom’s reaction. “That color is exceptional on you.”
I wiped away the happy tears and then raised my hand to feel the necklace. I wanted to run upstairs and look in the mirror, but it was time for his presents.
“And now for you,”
I smiled rising up and going over to the pool equipment box and lifting the lid.
“Ah,” escaped his lips. “I looked in there!”
“It didn’t make it in there until yesterday,” I laughed. “It is hard to stay one step ahead of you.” I was going to play this charade to the last second.
“Clever girl—that must be one of the reasons I married you.”
I handed him the first box. It was the magazine, but I had boxed it so that he couldn’t immediately tell what it was, although I could see he was going to try to guess as he shook, rattled, and sniffed at the package.
“Just open it!” Kimmy burst out impatiently.
“All right, all right,” he chuckled as he tore off the paper and lifted the lid.
He had a puzzled, surprised look as he stared at the plan book.
“A magazine?” Kimmy replied with clear disappointment.
“Well, we want to eventually build a house somewhere, so we need some ideas. Here’s the last one,” I stated handing him the wrapped picture frame.
He immediately guessed that that’s what it would be—a picture. He removed the wrapping and stared at the framed document. “You bought—” Then it hit him what the deed went to.
“And it didn’t cost you forty million dollars either,” I said with an enormous smile; totally pleased that I could tell he honestly had no idea that I was the person he kept offering to buy the property from.
Mom must have decided that it was a good idea to leave us alone as she told Kimmy it was bedtime and walked with her upstairs.
I wanted to get up and seat myself on his lap, but to be totally honest, I had eaten so much dinner and dessert that I was starting to feel glued to the lounger. “Lyle tried to talk me into letting you buy the property from me and pocket a 400% return on my investment, but I just couldn’t do that to you, although you were getting pretty moody toward the end,” I smiled softly. “Do you want to sit over here by me and we’ll go through that plan book and see if we like anything? I met an architect who, I’m sure, could help us customize anything we want.”
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