She admitted to wanting to call home once or twice, just to let her grandparents know she was fine, but they knew where she was. She knew that because she’d spied Carl cruising down the street every so often in the limo. Edwin keeping an eye on her, no doubt. Well, that had worked to her advantage, too. She’d flagged Carl down the second time she’d seen him—thankful Edwin hadn’t been in the back seat—and coerced him into getting one of the housekeepers to throw some of her things in a bag, then sneak it to her.
Other than that, she’d had no contact with her family. But then, she hadn’t expected to. Neither Edwin nor Frances would give in. She was certain they were waiting for her to come crawling home so they could pass judgment on her immature decision. Well, they had a long wait coming.
“So, Nick hired you for the kitchen?” Andrea asked.
Marina shushed her sister, then turned to Sunny. “How long has it been?”
“A week. This is my first day off.”
“Hey,” Marina said, surprised. “A new world record. And you don’t even speak Italian. Do you?”
Sunny smiled. “I’m learning. Quickly.”
“I think I’m glad we barged in today.” Andrea rubbed her hands. “We never can get enough information to use against our big brother. But this is too good. One week with both Nick and Carlo. You’re either Wonder Woman or really desperate.”
Sunny knew Andrea was fishing for information, but she realized she didn’t mind. She’d spent too much of her life mingling with pretentious bores—admittedly her fault as much as her grandparents’, as she’d suffered them in silence. She’d only just met Nick’s sisters, but she knew without a doubt they’d never suffer through anything silently. Maybe she was mingling with the right people. The right people for her.
Marina crossed her legs. “So why work here?”
“It’s a long story, but once I walked in the door and met Mama Bennie, I knew it was right.”
“And after five minutes with Carlo?”
She laughed. “I was ready to quit. But only after committing homicide.”
The sisters laughed and nodded in complete understanding, and Sunny knew she’d made two new friends. Friends of her own choosing. It was a ridiculously big moment for her, and she almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
“So why aren’t we planning the wake?” Andrea asked.
She explained about her grandfather. Then added, “And Nick didn’t think I could handle it, so I had that to prove, too.” She shrugged at Marina’s questioning lift of an eyebrow. “I am human.”
“And female,” Andrea said, her expression considering.
Sunny knew where Andrea was headed. “Yes, well, he’s not hard on the eyes, that’s for sure. But I’m not here to prove anything in that direction.” So what if she’d caught him staring at her a few times, and it made things heat up in a way that had nothing to do with Italian cooking? She was on a mission to get a life, not a lover.
“Well, I still say you deserve some kind of award,” Andrea said.
Sunny smiled. “A paycheck will suffice.”
Marina grinned. “I think you’re going to be a welcome addition. The women in this family have been providing all the entertainment for far too long now. It’ll be fun being the audience for a change. Especially if you can give my big brother a run for his money. Do him good to learn all women don’t swoon at the sight of his good looks.” She studied Sunny again. “And you say you haven’t swooned, right?”
Sunny blushed. She couldn’t believe she was sitting almost naked in her own bed, talking to her new boss’s sisters—women she’d just met—about her sex life. Or lack of one. “I definitely understand how he’d have a high swoon factor. But after this past week, I think we can safely say we see each other as points to be proven and nothing else.”
Marina stood. “Well, the least you deserve is some rest.” She stopped Sunny’s protestation. “We’ve all done time in Nick’s kitchen. Trust me, sleep when you can.”
Andrea stood, as well. “We only have a few hours of reprieve, anyway. Rachel and B.J.’s husbands are watching the brood while we help Father Sartori with all the festival plans. And even double teaming them, you’d think we were asking them to sacrifice a kidney or something.”
“I’m pretty sure John would be first in the donation line, given a choice,” Marina joked. To Sunny, she added, “John is B.J.’s husband. He’s a great guy, but with little Angelina being their only child and barely a toddler, he’s still a bit terrified of children running in packs.”
“Of course, with B.J. at the end of her second trimester and expecting twins, we saw it as our duty to help him get over his fears,” Andrea added. “After all, in this family, he must be assimilated into the pack mentality if he hopes to survive.”
Sunny felt a pang of commiseration for John. She was only dealing with the two sisters, and it was all she could do to keep up. “Twins?”
“The first in the D’Angelo family.”
“John is still adapting to the idea,” Andrea added.
“Like he has a choice.” Marina laughed. “Come on, we’d better get going. Leaving all the festival plans to the good father is never wise. Remember last time we left him in charge? He had Mrs. Amato running the ticket booth.”
Andrea groaned. “She only speaks Italian, can’t make change worth a hoot, is mostly deaf and sings all the time. Loudly. Off-key.” She shuddered. “It was a nightmare. You’re right, we better get over there.”
Curiosity got the best of Sunny. “What festival are you helping with?”
“It’s a summertime tradition in the neighborhood. Lots of music and games and dancing. And food. Enough to feed a small nation. Which is essentially what our neighborhood is, anyway,” she said with a laugh. “It’s three weeks away, but there’s a ton still to do. D’Angelo’s has been one of the caterers for this festival since it started over thirty years ago. The whole neighborhood pitches in with the decorations and such. Sometimes I think all the planning leading up to it is the true social occasion.”
“With all the gossip going on, it’s a wonder anything gets done.” Andrea laughed.
“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Sunny said. And it did. Her social calendar had never included something as fun-sounding as this event. Quite the opposite.
Marina shuttled her sister out the bedroom door, but Andrea ducked her head back in. With a speculative gleam in her eye, she said, “We never turn down an extra pair of hands. Just ask Nick for directions. We’ll be there until mid-afternoon at least. Or as long as the kids last after they get dropped off.”
Marina nodded. “Hey, if you lasted a week in Nick’s kitchen, this will be a breeze.”
“Or send you screaming back to wherever you came from,” Andrea added with a laugh. “Come if you dare.”
“I don’t think I’m running anywhere just yet. Let me shower and get dressed and I’ll be there. If it’s okay. I’m not really a resident.”
Marina’s eyebrows rose, and she really looked like her brother. “You pay rent, do you not? This is your mailing address, is it not? We’re like a village here, made up of decades of immigrants.” She shrugged. “What can I say? We are more open-minded than our ancestors, perhaps, but we still stick together. Show us what you’re made of. You’ll get a fair shake.”
Andrea agreed. “You won’t know unless you try.”
Marina smiled. “I’ll give you some advice. Good gossip is a great way to get in.”
“I don’t have any gossip.”
“You have the story about how a blond-haired rich girl got hired by Nick D’Angelo, to work in Carlo’s kitchen, no less. That will get you in the door. Trust me.” She winked. “After that, it’s all up to you.”
“That is, if you still want to try after stepping into this madness,” Andrea warned as they headed out.
“Welcome to the neighborhood, Sunny,” Marina called, then the front door slammed shut.
Sunny flopped back in bed. She’d just
survived Hurricane D’Angelo. She didn’t feel sleepy. In fact, she felt invigorated. Enough to go stand on your feet on your day off? She thought of the two women she’d just met, their vivacity and the natural energy that emanated from them. She wanted to be a part of that.
She’d wanted a life of her own choosing. Never in her wildest imagination would she have chosen this one. But somehow it had chosen her. And she found she liked it.
“Grandfather, if you could only see your little CEO now.”
5
SUNNY STOPPED in front of the office door, hesitating before knocking. She’d been hoping Mama Bennie would be around so she wouldn’t have to bug Nick for directions to Father Sartori’s. No such luck. She knocked.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Sunny. I just have a quick question.”
“Come in.”
His tone was sharp, but she’d been around him long enough to distinguish between anger and distraction. It hadn’t taken a week for her to realize that running even a small restaurant like D’Angelo’s was one monstrous list of never-ending tasks. She’d been amazed at what he was responsible for and wasn’t sure how he kept it all under control. She poked her head in the door. His dark head was bent over his desk. He didn’t look up.
He wasn’t wearing his usual white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was wearing a faded Chicago Bears T-shirt, and his hair was more tousled than usual, as if he’d been raking his fingers through it. Often.
She ignored the itch in her fingertips and slipped into the room. “I need some directions. Marina and Andrea said I should ask you.”
He had been punching numbers almost viciously into a calculator, but stopped instantly and looked up. “What did you just say?”
“Marina and Andrea asked me to join them today, and I need directions to Father Sartori’s. They said to ask you.”
“Why are you going out with my sisters?” he asked, giving her a suspicious look.
“They invited me. Just this morning.”
“You don’t even know my sisters.”
She smiled. “Not all of them, but I know two of them now.”
“Since when?”
“Since they barged into my bedroom this morning, thinking I was Joey.”
Nick stared at her for a full ten seconds, then tossed his pencil on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, that’s just great.”
Sunny propped her hands on her hips. “Well, thank you so very much.” Maybe being an only child wasn’t so bad, after all.
“You have no understanding of what this means for me.”
“This really has nothing to do with you.” She turned to leave. “I’ll find it on my own. Maybe Mr. Bertolucci down at the grocery can help me.”
“Wait.”
She paused and glanced back.
“I’m sorry I snapped. It’s been a bitch of a morning, and the inventory Joey did before he left isn’t adding up. Sometimes I wonder where that boy’s head is when it isn’t buried neck deep in some computer programming code.”
“Judging by the posters on the wall of his bedroom, I could hazard a guess,” Sunny said with a dry smile.
She thought his mouth twitched at the corners, but she couldn’t be certain. She knew he had a killer smile, though it had never been aimed at her. She had seen him with the patrons, charm turned on full blast. And quite a powerful blast it was. He was good at what he did, and people obviously loved him.
“If you can hang on about ten minutes, I’ll take you to Father Sartori’s myself.”
She told herself it was shock from his offer, not panic, that filled her. “No, that’s okay. I know you’re busy. Just give me a general idea. I’ll find it. I have a good head for directions.”
He was studying her openly. Her panic button remained in the engaged position. It was one thing to intercept a look now and then and torment herself with the possibility that there might be something behind it. But this was direct and challenging.
“What kind of head do you have for columns and figures?”
“Huh?” It took her a second to process the question. She almost laughed. Here she was, wondering if her boss had the hots for her body, when in fact he was really interested in her mind. Oh, the irony. She hid her smile. “Um, actually I’m pretty good with columns and figures.”
Nick shoved himself out of his chair. “Great. Can you tally columns five and six for me, and then match them to column nine? I’ve got to unload a few more things in the back, then we can get out of here.” He brushed past her but didn’t seem to feel the same full-body electrical zap she did. “I really appreciate it.” Then he was gone.
Sunny crossed to his chair and sat down. It was still warm from his body. She looked at the jumbled disarray he called a desk and wondered that he got anything done at all.
Her grandfather would have had a heart attack at Nick’s lack of organizational skills. And she was apparently enough of her grandfather’s little girl to be equally disgusted by it. The same fingers that had itched to weave through his hair itched to straighten his desk. But she resisted. She wasn’t here to run his company or tell him how to run his company. Although, if he was interested, she had one or two ideas.
Studying the books in front of her, she sighed. The columns were on wide, light green spreadsheets, pressed into what looked like an old leather binder. She didn’t think they made these anymore. “Wonder if he’s heard of that great new invention,” she muttered. “The computer.”
She began to punch numbers and almost immediately spotted where Joey made his mistake. He’d transposed two numbers. She corrected them and circled the two matching totals on the calculator tape in red. Then, curious, she scanned the other columns, and found several more errors. Ten minutes later she’d made changes on five pages and saved her boss several hundred dollars. She considered searching further, but was hesitant to do it without asking first. She went to find Nick.
She stepped into the small stockroom, but her mouth went dry before she could speak. Nick was bent at the waist, facing away from her, prying open a small wooden crate. Jeans. She’d never seen him in jeans. Especially not ones that showcased his backside and thighs quite so, um, amazingly well. She must have made a sound—probably strangling on her own libido—because he straightened and turned to face her.
“Couldn’t figure it out? Never mind, just leave it and I’ll look at it again later when the numbers aren’t swimming before my eyes.”
Sunny enjoyed the smug smile that curved her lips. “No problem. Error found and corrected. In fact, I found a couple. I paper-clipped the calculator tape to the pages I fixed. You know, you really need a computer. I could have you set up in a heartbeat.” He had yet to reply, and her confidence faltered a bit. Had she gone too far? She gestured to the shelves. “So. Need any help back here? Although I must insist on clocking in if you say yes.”
The tension left his face, and she could almost see him relax the bunched muscles in his shoulders and arms. Muscles that bunched right back up, and very nicely, too, when he folded his arms across his chest. “You must insist?” He mimicked her stilted tone. Did she really sound like that?
There was a light in his eyes, sending a warning. Sunny wasn’t certain what that warning meant. “It’s…just that it’s my day off.”
“And you plan to spend it working free for Father Sartori.”
“I thought it would be fun.”
Nick finally did what he hadn’t all week. He smiled directly at her. She thought, a bit faintly, that perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to provoke him, after all.
“More fun than helping me unpack olive oil?”
Her reaction to that made no sense whatsoever. The man owned a restaurant, after all, and olive oil was part of his business. So why images of entirely different and wholly inappropriate uses for olive oil flashed into her head was beyond her. She’d probably blush every time Carlo handed her a bottle of it from now on. How mortifying.
“I—I’m gue
ssing yes.” She finally looked away from his penetrating gaze. “Marina and Andrea made it sound like something I’d like to be involved in.”
“Marina and Andrea could give Tom Sawyer and Dennis the Menace a run for their money.”
“So you don’t think the festival is fun?”
“Oh, it’s quite an event. A great deal of fun is had by many. But for me, it’s work. Enjoyable work, but work nonetheless.”
“Marina said that D’Angelos has helped cater the festival since it started.”
“You and my sisters had quite the chat, didn’t you?”
Remembering it, Sunny couldn’t help but smile. “Well, it wasn’t the traditional way to meet new friends, but we seemed to hit it off.”
The smile faded, and the wariness returned. “What exactly are your plans, Sunny? Now you’re getting chummy with my family and getting involved in neighborhood doings. Is this some sort of social-boundary-expanding vacation for you?”
Her mouth dropped open, then quickly snapped shut. “My idea of a vacation, expanding or not, does not include working twelve-hour days, being violently shouted at in Italian, soaking my aching feet in hot water every night and drifting off to la-la land with visions of Heather Locklear’s boobs in my head.” She stepped forward, realizing full well he could fire her on the spot but not caring at the moment. “My reasons for being here are my own. I show up for work, do my job responsibly and earn the right to do whatever I want with my day off, including working for Father Sartori and socializing with anyone I care to, including your sisters. I happen to like making my own friends, choosing my daily agenda with no help from anyone else and going wherever I damn well please without having to file my itinerary with a driver.” She was almost nose to chin with him. “If you have a problem with my work ethic or job performance, then by all means let me know. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your suspicions to yourself. Your sisters, if you haven’t noticed, are grown women, also used to making their own choices.” She spun around to leave. “I went from one domineering, controlling male to another,” she muttered. “I just want a nice quiet life, a few good friends and a challenging job. What is so wrong with that? It shouldn’t be that hard.”
Walk on the Wild Side Page 4
