Her admitting there was indeed something she was keeping from him jarred him. He’d been hoping he was just being hyperaware. “Somehow I doubt that,” he said, and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He waited for her to assure him that it wasn’t anything he needed to worry about, or didn’t pertain to them, but she didn’t say anything more. Then another thought occurred to him. “Are you?” he asked.
“Am I what?”
“Having doubts?”
“About . . . this? Us?” She laughed. “Of course I am. Like a dozen of them every other minute. It’s kind of terrifying, actually, when I let myself think about it.”
That was the kind of thing that should have given him pause. Instead, her immediately laying out her truth without even pausing to think about how it might sound actually had him relaxing a bit. That was the Abriana Bellaluna O’Neill he was falling in love with.
“Good,” he said, and might have actually sighed a little in relief.
“Good?” Now her eyebrows climbed. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No, no,” he assured her. “I meant good that you’re—that we’re—being realistic about this. It is a whole lot, all at once.”
“It is,” she said. “But if we only have six weeks, then . . .”
Now he frowned. “Wait—”
She reached up and pushed at the curls that fell over his forehead, her smile reassuring. “Six weeks to get invested enough to know what we’ll be willing to do to keep it. Wise words from some guy I met in my kitchen.”
He bent down and kissed her, thinking he already had his answer. For as long as she’d have him, he wanted a life that had Abriana right in the middle of it. What that meant he’d have to do, he wasn’t sure. “Well, if we spend enough time together, the solutions might eventually present themselves. We just need to know enough to make the right choice. Something I learned from this baker who once tried to seduce me with sugar and Italian cream.”
She ducked her chin, but he didn’t miss the return of that flicker. Then she was looking up at him again and her smile was sincere, her gaze open and directly on his as she slid her arms around his waist. “Is it working?”
Whatever he might have said to that was lost when Cassi spoke from the door to the living room. “I haven’t found proof, but I think I know where the money is going.”
Caleb and Bree’s expressions simultaneously went slack at Cassi’s solemn tone. Caleb turned to find his normally buoyant sister looking very small, and far too young, as she stood in the doorway, a clutch of printouts in her hand.
“What is it?” Caleb asked, and both he and Bree immediately crossed the room to her.
Cassi entered haltingly and sank down on the edge of the couch. Bree sat beside her and Caleb crouched down in front her. “Athelfi,” he said, “tell us?”
She looked up and her pretty blue eyes swam with tears. “It’s Aunt Alethea,” she said. “They’re not in Greece for a belated honeymoon.” She lifted the sheaf of papers. “Or maybe they started there, for Alethea, so she could have her long-awaited trip first.”
“First?” Caleb covered his sister’s hand and felt the trembling there. “Cassi,” he said, his voice gentle but urgent.
“I think they’re actually in Switzerland.” Her voice hitched as her breath caught in her throat. “All that money . . . George used it to pay for her to get experimental treatment. She has a rare blood disorder, Cay.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “A rare, high-mortality-rate blood disorder.”
Chapter 7
“Ah, mimma, come here.” Sofia had taken one look at her and pulled Bree into a hug the moment she stepped into the kitchen at Bellaluna’s. Even with the height difference, it felt so good and comforting. “Sit, sit,” she said, and pulled a fresh hankie from her apron pocket. “I’ll make tea and you can tell me what has gone wrong.”
Bree knew better than to say no, or that she was fine. The truth was, she wasn’t fine, and a cup of hot tea couldn’t hurt. She pulled a stool over to one of the worktables, sat, and rested her head on her folded arms while Sofia started up the kettle she always kept simmering and went into the office to get her box of special blend tea. It wasn’t magical, but it might as well have been.
Bree lifted her head when Sofia slid the delicate china cup in front of her. “Thank you, Nonna.”
Sofia pulled up a stool and perched next to Bree, her own steaming teacup close at hand. “So, this morning you asked for some time to spend with Caleb and his sister, Cassandra. You sounded so happy. What has happened?”
“I’m still happy,” Bree said. Caleb had given his blessing to Bree’s sharing the information with her grandmother. He understood better than pretty much anyone how important it was to have family support during challenging times. It was why he’d welcomed Cassi’s surprise arrival in Maine.
Even though this wasn’t happening to someone in Bree’s family, it was happening to someone her grandmother called friend. Caleb had believed that Sofia could be trusted to handle the news with utmost discretion. Bree had debated not telling her, because she didn’t want to make her grandmother sad. But she also wanted to talk to her nonna about Caleb, and about those iced Italian cookies. It just seemed best to handle things as was the Bellaluna way, directly and honestly.
Bree took Sofia’s hand, and in that instant, the concern that had colored Sofia’s brown eyes took on a more worried look. “I have some difficult news,” Bree said.
Sofia turned over the hand Bree had covered, then laid her other hand on top and squeezed Bree’s palm between them. “Give your burden to me, mimma,” she said. “A burden shared is a burden lightened.”
“It’s about Alethea Castellanos. And about George, and the restaurant.” Bree held Sofia’s gaze. “You must keep this between us.”
“Of course,” Sofia said easily. “Come now. Ease yourself.”
Bree told her the whole story, leaving out only the part about her spending the night in Caleb’s bed and being found there by his sister. Not that Sofia wouldn’t have understood, she was a progressive and pragmatic thinker on such things, but this was about the Castellanoses, not about her and Caleb. Not yet, anyway. She would get there, too, eventually.
She told Sofia about George taking money from the restaurant profits to help pay for Alethea’s treatment, how the new mortgage had been for that, too, but they’d underestimated how much it would take and hadn’t asked for enough. Then the disease began progressing faster than anticipated, and George panicked and did the only thing he knew to do.
“We would have helped them,” Sofia said. “His family would have, too.”
“Alethea didn’t want them to know,” Bree told her. “She didn’t want anyone to know. She just wanted to live out her days with her husband in peace. That’s why she retired sooner than she’d originally planned. But George, the man who doesn’t even operate his cell phone, wasn’t ready to accept that fate for his wife. So he started doing research, and he found the treatment facility overseas. The process is new, and largely untested, which is why it’s not available here. At George’s urging, she’s agreed to be part of the test group.”
“I can understand this,” Sofia said, nodding. “Troubling times make for tough decisions. I just feel sad they had to contend with that extra burden.”
Bree nodded. “George wanted to keep his promise to his wife, take her back to Greece. She has medication that keeps her fairly steady. She sleeps more and needs occasional transfusions, but they timed the trip to work around that. They didn’t stay long in Greece, just two days, but she did get to see her family. Then they flew to Switzerland and entered her into the treatment center. The relatives in Greece thought the two had simply gone on to do some sightseeing, sail to some of the Greek Islands, enjoy their long-delayed honeymoon.”
“So, Caleb has spoken to George and Alethea directly, then,” Sofia asked. “It’s all been sorted out.”
“Yes,” Bree said. “Caleb and his sister called t
hem right after I left. Caleb said I could stay, but I felt like that conversation should be private, and I also knew I’d imposed on you enough today. They didn’t talk long. Caleb called me when I went home to take a shower and change for work. I think the only thing we’re still not sure about is why he asked that it be Caleb who came, but—”
“Because he would be the one to handle it the way George wanted it handled,” Sofia said. Then a brief smile touched her lips. “And because it was his destiny to meet you.”
Bree smiled at her grandmother but said nothing. She had plenty of questions regarding all of that, but this needed to be talked about first.
“Did they have word, on the treatment? Or is it too soon?” Sofia asked.
“Too soon,” Bree said. “No word at all on that yet, except Alethea is there and is in the program.” Before Sofia could ask, Bree added, “They don’t know what the best prognosis is. George didn’t offer specifics. He’s being strong for his wife, but Caleb said he’s barely holding it together, that he’s never heard his uncle sound so shattered. So, I feel like this is a last-ditch effort. The information Cassi found on the subject didn’t really elaborate, other than to say that in the previous studies, the treatment had been shown to significantly slow down the progression of the disease. So that, at least, seems like a good sign.”
Sofia nodded. “Alethea is strong, and she has much to fight for. She will do as well as is possible, this I know. And George will be there for her.”
Bree smiled briefly, thinking she didn’t want to imagine what would happen to George if he lost his wife. Caleb had been so worried about whether or not to dig into his uncle’s affairs, about his pride, but George was well beyond caring about any of that now. “You’ll be a good cheerleader for Alethea when she gets back.”
Sofia’s expression brightened. “That’s the spirit,” she said, then squeezed Bree’s hands again. “Now, no more solemn faces. We must send only positive thoughts to her, and to George.” She slid her hands from Bree’s and picked up her tea, nodding to Bree to do the same.
Bree had just taken a sip when Sofia said, “Now, when it comes to your young man, your true love, don’t let your magic confuse you, cuore mia.”
Bree might have choked, just a little. She pressed a napkin to her mouth, but before she could recover and say anything, Sofia continued.
“I blame myself for not being more forthright as you’ve become an adult. You’re not the dreamer that your mother was, or the hopeless romantic I was.” She smiled then, a bit wistfully. “You’re the pragmatic one. You expect to mix ingredients together and get a certain outcome based on their elemental properties, and that allows you to dream up combinations I’d never imagine.”
“You’re so much more creative than I am, though,” Bree protested. “I always feel like a mad scientist whose lab just happens to be a kitchen. Your recipes are like works of art; mine are far more prosaic.”
“We come at baking from different angles, you and I, and your mother has her own way as well. But your results are no less of a success than mine. I am continually inspired by you, tesoro mia.”
Bree flushed with pleasure at that sincere compliment. She liked being her grandmother’s treasure. The feeling was reciprocated, tenfold. “Thank you, Nonna. From you that means everything.”
Sofia nodded, pleased, then said, “I mention this, because while your methods stand you in good stead in the kitchen, I feared your using the same practical, sensible approach to life might keep you from ever willingly giving your heart.”
Bree opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Unsurprisingly, her grandmother had a point.
Sofia took another savoring sip; then the curve of her lips deepened. “Then I watched you come alive the moment dear Caleb stepped through those doors, and I knew my worries were for naught.” She lifted a slender shoulder. “You simply hadn’t met him yet.” She set her cup down and placed her hand on Bree’s arm, her delighted expression turning a bit more serious. “But perhaps I did not prepare you as well as I should have. Even looking at your destiny and seeing all the potential that is there, you’re still applying logic and reason.” She lifted her carefully penciled brows. “And I suspect you’re a little worried that your dear Caleb is enchanted, that his feelings for you aren’t founded in reality.” She squeezed Bree’s arm. “Nothing could be further from the truth. He was as captivated as you were. In fact, your fate didn’t even need that little nudge.” Her soft eyes twinkled with affection. “But it was lovely seeing you come into your own.”
Bree had already come to these conclusions herself, but every time Caleb mentioned anything to do with magic, she realized that she still had her doubts. “So . . . he’s not still ‘affected’ by that cookie?” Bree asked, using air quotes.
“My darling mimma, he was ‘affected,’ as you say, the moment he laid eyes on you.”
Bree laughed at her grandmother’s mimicking of the air quotes, though the laugh was also partly in relief. Maybe a lot in relief. She’d known the truth, had seen it with her own eyes, felt it in her heart, but hearing it from someone who shared this strange new gift she’d just discovered for herself was more needed than even she had realized.
“Was he similarly affected by those muffins? There was no magic, then,” Sofia pointed out.
Bree nodded, thinking it all sounded so obvious when her grandmother explained it. But there were still a few unanswered mysteries. “You have no idea how happy I am to talk about this with you.” She sipped the last of her tea and set her cup aside. “There is one other thing, though. Well, there will likely be many other things, but there is one thing I’m curious about now.”
“If I can help you to understand, I will,” Sofia said.
Bree told Sofia about taking the muffins to Caleb, and how their meeting had ended up with them deciding that because their lives were grounded in two separate places, they wouldn’t pursue the attraction they felt. She left out the soul-searing kiss part, but wouldn’t have been surprised if Sofia somehow knew about that, too. In fact, knowing things was the reason she’d shared the story. “So, Caleb and I made a decision not to pursue things. And we didn’t. I went my way; he went his. We didn’t see each other, not even by chance, or talk to each other. No phone calls, no texts. At that point I had no idea what was happening at the restaurant, though I did think it odd the morning I was there that it was utterly quiet, with no one in the kitchen but Caleb. Still, I honestly didn’t give that another thought.” She smiled. “I had a harder time not thinking about Caleb, but my decision hadn’t wavered. Then, very suddenly, I woke up in the middle of the night last night, feeling this overwhelming sense of urgency.”
Sofia didn’t look particularly surprised or concerned by this, and Bree wasn’t sure if that should reassure her or not. She’d been kind of hoping that maybe her premonition had nothing to do with Bellaluna magic and was just one of those sixth sense things.
She explained the rest of the story to Sofia, up to her knocking on the door to the third-floor apartment. “The moment I saw him, the urgency vanished.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”
“Are you asking if that feeling, demanding you go to him, is also part of your magic?”
Bree nodded, and waited.
Sofia nodded also and was serious when she spoke. “When we give our little assist to those couples whom fate sends our way, neither of them has any awareness of that magical little push. With you, however, as it was with me and your mother, it’s a bit different.”
“Did Mom and Dad need that nudge? I know they met here.”
“Your mother was very much a dreamer and had no qualms about tying herself to your father’s wandering star. His fortunes shifted right about the time you came along, with his first book being published, allowing them to settle in to a life here that was, at least for a time, more grounded. And now, they are off again together, as they are meant to be.”
“So, no cookie for them?” Bree asked wi
th a smile.
Sofia leaned closer and whispered, “I might have hedged my bets.” She placed a fingertip along the side of her nose. “That stays here in this kitchen.”
Bree was still grinning ear to ear as she nodded, delighted by the story and the shared secret. “And you and Nonno?”
“My mother did not offer him the cookie, no,” Sofia said. “I was smitten from the moment I laid eyes on him.” She let out a little laugh then and shook her head, her cheeks taking on a delightful hint of pink. “Perhaps I have a bit of a practical side, too, though.”
Bree’s eyes widened. “You hedged your own bets?”
She lifted a slim shoulder. “I didn’t think it would hurt matters. I wasn’t sure he was as smitten as I was. I wanted to make sure he stuck around long enough to figure out that he was.”
Bree laughed. “And? Did he need that extra nudge?”
“I think we’d have found our way, but I have no regrets about ensuring we had the time we needed. I loved your grandfather with every breath I took. I’d have done more than offer him a bite of Bellaluna magic if I thought it would make him mine.”
Bree sighed, delighted, her heart squeezing with memories of her beloved nonno, who had always looked at his wife with adoration, as if he was continually discovering new reasons to love her. “So, did you always know things about him? Like if he was in distress, or needed you? Or with mom when she was a baby? Or even now?”
“We all have a sense when someone we love needs us,” Sofia said. “To me, love is like a gossamer thread that binds us all to each other, and we feel a tug on it if one of us is faltering.”
“But Caleb wasn’t—I mean, he’s not my—we’re just starting out.”
“I think you know the answer to that,” was all Sofia said with a knowing smile. “You may not be ready to claim it as yet, and that’s to be expected. You are in the early days, which are a delight of brand-new discovery. That will continue, throughout your life. Don’t rush them, tesoro mia. Follow your path—it will always lead you to the next thing. You must savor where you are and not be in a hurry.”
The Bakeshop at Pumpkin and Spice Page 10
