She looked back to Antonio and cleared her throat. “Please don’t tell me you need to take space from the restaurant.”
“No, nothing like that. The changes have to do with design and flow, and they don’t impact the kitchen area at all.” He leaned forward and tapped his pencil against the sketch. “The idea is to create an atmosphere that capitalizes on one of the area’s biggest draws. You’re in the middle of northern Virginia wine country. Bonavera Winery is a popular stop for tastings. If you think about most of your customers, they typically plan a day of tastings, stopping somewhere for lunch at some point in between or for dinner afterward.”
He looked at Lucia. “The same as you and I did on one of our first dates. We did a couple of tastings, went to lunch at your friend’s restaurant, then continued on our way.”
“Yes, it’s a popular way to spend a day, or weekend, in the area,” Lucia agreed, “but how does that play into the restaurant’s design?”
“Okay, so here’s what we were thinking. We design parts of the restaurant to emulate the look and feel of a barrel room, like the one at the winery, minus the vast number of barrels filled with wine, of course. There would be a larger, more open area with access to the veranda, but with several half walls skirting it. These would be clad with shaved barrels, about five inches deep with the metal rings left intact. Just enough depth to give the impression of stacked barrels. These half walls would create several smaller, more intimate dining areas within the larger one.”
He outlined the rest of the idea and then leaned back, crossed his ankle over his knee. “It’s entirely up to the two of you—mostly you, Cat—whether you want to stay with the original design or incorporate the changes. We’re early enough in the process that, if you like the idea, we can make the changes without impacting anything else. The area wineries are a huge draw, not only for tourists, but locals as well. We can capitalize on their appeal by creating an environment that makes patrons feel like it’s part of the whole winery experience.”
“I think it’s brilliant,” Lucia said and then looked at Cat. “The decision’s totally up to you, though. It’s your restaurant, but in case you wanted to know.”
“Of course you think it’s brilliant.” Cat angled her head toward Antonio. “She’s dazzled by everything you do.”
“Not true,” Lucia said with a laugh. “I do think he’s pretty amazing.” She slid Antonio a look that should have carried an “R” rating with it. “But I can still be objective when I need to be.”
Liam sat with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the interaction silently. Cat couldn’t imagine him ever being playful with a woman the way Antonio was with Lucia. He didn’t impress her as a man who owned a fun, or a softer, side.
“What about you, Cat?” Antonio asked.
She really didn’t have to think about it but gave herself a moment in case anything popped into her head that she should consider. Nothing did. She loved the idea.
“I think it’s brilliant too.” She chuckled when Lucia leaned over from where she sat in the chair and punched her lightly on the shoulder.
“Really,” she said, addressing Antonio, “it’s wonderful. I like the concept of having a large central dining area, but then having some more intimate areas customers can request if they’re celebrating a special occasion, or just want more privacy. And the barrel room idea is great! I do still want it to have an elegant feel, but we can accomplish that with tablecloths, candles, crystal, fresh flowers…” She paused in her thinking and then waved a dismissive hand. “We can talk about that later, though.”
She leaned forward and rested her forearms on her knees. “Let’s do it. I think patrons will love it.”
“Okay, if you’re both in agreement then, I’ll go ahead and redo the dining room drawings. There’s plenty of time for all of us to review them together before we get to that stage.” Antonio reached out and shook Liam’s hand. “Nice work, Liam. Congratulations.”
“What’s Antonio congratulating you for, Liam?” Lucia asked. “Are you celebrating something?”
Liam shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“The idea to tweak the restaurant design was Liam’s.” Antonio stood up and tucked the paper under his arm. “And as you both think it’s brilliant, I want to give credit where it’s due.”
“It really is a fabulous idea, Liam,” Lucia said. “And it only confirms for me that we made the right decision when we chose you, knowing you’ve got our best interests in mind rather than just looking at our project as a construction job.”
“If the customer’s happy, then I’m happy.”
“Well, I am happy, and since my sister loves the idea, I know she is too. Right, Cat?”
“It works.” Cat picked at the hem of her skirt. It did more than work. It made wonderful sense. It added depth to an already good design, created mood, inspired romance. How had a man with the personality of a stone come up with such a creative vision? Why would he spend time thinking about ways to enhance her customers’ experience, when all he’d been hired to do was put up a structure, attach a roof, and build out some walls?
Liam stood up from the other end of the couch where they’d both been sitting. Because they didn’t get along, she was being small and letting his indifference influence her reaction. She could be petty, which wouldn’t make her feel very good, or she could refuse to let his contrary attitude get the best of her and be the bigger person. They may not get along, but she couldn’t honestly deny he was an exceptional craftsman. She’d seen his work, looked for flaws, but had never found any. He clearly took pride in his work; that was something she understood.
Clearing her throat, Cat stood too. “Thank you, Liam. The changes you proposed are…” She smoothed her skirt, her fingers brushing away invisible lint. “They’re…good.”
When she got to her room about ten minutes later, Cat flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She could have told him they were brilliant. She’d told Antonio they were. But thinking his idea was brilliant would have meant something to Antonio. Liam probably didn’t care what she thought of him or his ideas.
She threw an arm over her eyes and sighed. Here she was, again wasting time thinking about a man she didn’t enjoy thinking about, but who always seemed to be creeping around her thoughts, anyway. She’d let him get to her, with his grunts, narrowed glances, and shrugging indifference. She knew not everyone she crossed paths with in life would like her, and if they didn’t, she had to let that be their problem, not hers. Well, she needed to be done with it. Stewing over him was wearing her out.
Caterina rolled over and grabbed the other bed pillow, hugged it against her chest, and closed her eyes. It wasn’t even noon, but she thought she could easily fall asleep and take a nap. This afternoon she would log into the library’s website and…
A long-forgotten melody drifted through her head, something she’d heard her mother humming from time to time. She smiled and hugged the pillow closer.
THERE WERE NO guests in residence at the moment, not unusual for a Wednesday this time of year. Lucia and Antonio had driven to D.C. and wouldn’t be back until late afternoon. Eliana had a meeting with a woman in Leesburg for a possible freelance job, and Marcella was out in the vineyard, worrying over her vines.
Caterina dragged the fourth of the hefty boxes she intended to go through out of Antonio’s attic office and into the hallway. The boxes had been overpacked and were too heavy to carry. With a little ingenuity, she thought she could maneuver them down the stairwell and to her room.
She’d have to resign herself to waiting for help with the two old trunks she most wanted to delve into. They had belonged to Rosa or her parents and were more likely to hold insights into her ancestor’s life but were too heavy to manage on her own.
Antonio had said he’d bring the boxes and trunks down to her room when he got back, so she could search through them for anything that might help in their research. She didn’t wait well, though. Not onc
e she decided on a course of action. Those boxes should be enough to keep her busy for a few hours.
Her future brother-in-law could lecture her later for not waiting for him. She’d rather listen to a you could have hurt yourself sermon than waste the entire morning when she could be doing something productive.
Cat stared at the boxes sitting against the hallway wall. If the contents turned out to be nothing more than old books and stuff no one had any use for, going through them still served a useful purpose. She saw no value in clinging to someone else’s junk. She didn’t hang on to her own things once she’d outgrown them, or they’d lost their usefulness, so why clutter up the attic with her dead relatives’ stuff when the space could be put to better use?
Straightening up, she took a couple of moments to catch her breath as she pondered the best way to get the boxes down the stairwell with the least amount of effort.
“Okay, I can do this.”
She shook out her arms, then sat down on the floor. Putting her feet against the side of one of the boxes, she pushed with her legs. It moved a couple of feet toward the landing. She scooted forward and repeated the process four more times, until she reached the attic stairwell. She gave the box one more short push, so it balanced over the top step by several inches without being at risk of toppling forward.
Sidling around the box, she sat on the first step down. Reaching behind her back, she gripped the bottom sides. It took a couple of attempts, but she managed to wiggle it forward and angle it downward just enough to rest against her back.
She sat there a moment, taking stock of the weight before making her next move. If she braced her feet against the risers as she moved down from step to step, she thought it would give her more support, and she’d be less likely to lose control. She just needed to keep the box centered so the weight was distributed evenly.
“Just what are you trying to do?”
Cat looked down the stairwell. Liam stood at the bottom, scowling up at her. He shook his head, then jogged up the steps. Stopping directly in front of her, he reached over her head and pushed the box back until it lay flat on the landing again.
“Why did you do that?” Caterina asked in frustration. “It took me three tries to get that box into the right position!”
“To do what, kill yourself? That’s got to weigh close to eighty pounds. What’s in it, bricks?”
“I don’t know what’s in it! Which is why I was taking it to my room to unpack, before you got in my way. So, if you don’t mind—” She turned to take hold of the box again, but he nudged her aside and, with seemingly little effort, slid it backward.
Cat stood up and braced her hands on her hips. “And now what do you think you’re doing?”
“Making sure you live long enough to write me a check when I finish your project.” He bent his knees, crouched down, then took hold of the bottom of the box and hefted it against his chest as he stood back up again. “Where do you want this?”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Fine, you’re getting it anyway. Now do us both a favor and show me where to put this instead of wasting time deciding how stubborn you want to be about it.”
Okay, she could be reasonable. He was big and strong. He lifted heavy stuff all day long. He could probably lift two of those boxes at once without breaking a sweat. The logical thing would be to take him up on his offer. It would save her time, effort, and, if her plan didn’t work, prevent her from getting hurt or losing the box to a free fall.
She spun around and started down the stairs. “For your information, I’m not stubborn.”
Cat heard him grunt behind her.
“There’s a difference between being stubborn and being determined,” she said.
“Whatever definition makes you feel better.”
She ground her back teeth. “I don’t have to try to make myself feel better. Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I don’t like myself. I like myself just fine.”
He didn’t respond. She envisioned him rolling his eyes. So what? She didn’t need his approval. She didn’t care if he thought she was stubborn, or wound too tight, or interfering, or whatever the hell else he thought about her.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, rounded the landing, and continued down the hallway toward her room. She could hear his footsteps close behind. She couldn’t hear him breathing—she would have been panting by now, if she’d even managed to get the box down from the attic.
When she reached the door to her bedroom, she opened it and stood aside for him to enter, then followed him in.
“Just put it down by the bed.” She watched from just inside the doorway as he carried it over and crouched to set it on the floor. The faded jeans he wore tightened over the muscles in his legs and hugged his backside. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Just hard, lean muscle that made her mouth go dry in unguarded admiration. He stood back up, her eyes following the fluid power and grace of his movement.
Cat swallowed. When she refocused, she saw him scrutinizing her, his gaze a blue-green mask that revealed nothing. Had he caught her ogling him? Well, not ogling. She’d just been looking, and it hadn’t been intentional. Her eyes had just sort of drifted over him on their own before she realized she was…unintentionally checking out his form.
Glancing away, she cleared her throat. “What were you doing roaming around up here, anyway?”
“Looking for Antonio. I couldn’t reach him on his cell.”
“He and Lucia left about an hour ago to drive into D.C. They won’t be back until later this afternoon.”
Cat tried to avoid looking at him. Her feelings for Liam were complicated. She didn’t like him, but at the same time, she felt a craving whenever he was around. Those little electrical currents would start zipping around, make her tingle, break her focus.
She turned around, away from him, and walked out of the room. Liam followed. She continued down the hallway until she got to the attic stairway.
“Thanks,” she said, because it was the right thing to do, even though she hadn’t asked for his help, and he hadn’t given her a choice about accepting it. “I’ll tell Antonio to give you a call when he gets back.”
She started up the stairs and heard him curse.
“What?” she asked, when she looked around and saw him shaking his head.
“Are you intending to bring more of those boxes down to your room?”
Cat screwed up her mouth. “A couple.”
Liam came up the stairs behind her. He passed her on her right, glanced down at her as he did. “Like I said, stubborn.”
When Cat reached the landing, he asked which boxes she wanted. She pointed to the three in the hallway. “Those, but you don’t have to carry them down. Antonio told me he’d do it when he got back this afternoon, so seriously, there’s no reason to put yourself out.”
He smirked. “His offer didn’t stop you from trying to piggyback them down the stairs on your own, anyway. Excuse me for being a skeptic, but why should I believe that the minute I leave you won’t try to pull another stunt like the one you were attempting when I got here?”
“I could have managed.”
“You could have gotten seriously hurt.”
“I don’t think I would have. I have strong legs.”
He looked at her legs, as if to judge for himself. His eyes lingered there a moment, and she saw him swallow. “Look, I’m not going to argue with you about it,” he said, hoisting one of the boxes up into his arms to prove the point. “Just go back downstairs. I’ll bring the rest of these down and put them with the other one.”
She didn’t want to argue with him either. It wouldn’t get them anywhere. He seemed insistent, and she knew he could get the job done a lot easier than she.
Cat gave a slight nod. Now she felt she owed him one. Not a position she liked.
LIAM CARRIED THE last of the boxes down the second-floor hallway and into Caterina’s room.
He’d had no choice but to
bring the rest of them down. When he saw her attempting to brace that box on her back, he couldn’t believe she’d intended to try to get it down the stairs using her body as a strut. One slip, and the weight could have propelled her forward. She could have been seriously injured.
He’d learned one thing in his dealings with her, though: Caterina did what she wanted, regardless of the potential consequences. Like snooping around an active work site at night when no one else was around, despite the danger. She hadn’t cared about that. She’d wanted to snoop, so she snooped.
Stubborn—he’d been right on that count, and if he hadn’t brought down the rest of the boxes, he didn’t trust that she’d have waited for Antonio. She was accountable for her own actions, but still, if she’d gotten hurt when he could have prevented it, but he did nothing, he’d have felt responsible.
He set the box down beside the others and glanced around as he stood back up. Her room surprised him. There were feminine touches here and there, some overstuffed white throw pillows propped against the headboard, and a vase of flowers on the dresser, but the walls were a no-nonsense blue—pale and serene. The color appealed to him.
The bed had a simple down comforter, crisp and white, like the curtains covering the two tall windows and French doors. A handmade quilt, in soft pastels, lay neatly folded across the foot of the bed. The room looked clean, uncluttered, and the things he did see sitting out were neat and organized. He’d expected something more…frou-frou. Something more…indulgent.
“Thank you,” Caterina said from where she stood in front of the French doors that he assumed led out to a balcony.
“No problem.” Liam turned to leave and saw that she’d closed the bedroom door after he carried in the final box.
Caterina Page 6
