“Mr. Seitz really loved my latest joke! He says he’s going to tell his friend, who knows a guy, who knows a guy who’s a writer for Jerry Seinfeld!”
“I really don’t think our restaurant is the place for your stand-up routine,” Angie muttered and moved to check the ovens. “Or your one-liners.”
“Where else am I supposed to try out my jokes?”
“At home in front of your mirror?” Angie said.
“The mirror doesn’t laugh! Oh, wait. That’s a good idea. I have to write that one down.” Lizzie pulled out her pad and started scribbling notes.
Angie turned to her, hands on hips. “Just don’t make Mrs. Farrell laugh so hard she chokes on her cannoli again!”
Sophia held up a hand. “It’s fine, Lizzie. Good entertainment, as long as you don’t overdo it.”
Honestly, was there something in the air tonight? A full moon, maybe? Not that life was ever smooth sailing at Giancarlo’s but most of the time the trouble came in short spurts Sophia could handle. But tonight, of all nights, she didn’t need the aggravation. Tonight was supposed to be special. She’d waited a long time for tonight.
Lizzie slapped her forehead. “Oh, honey I’m sorry. I almost forgot. Tonight’s the night, isn’t it?”
Sophia reached for the pitcher of ice cold water and poured herself a glass. She took a large gulp and nodded. “Tonight.”
One month of emails, text messages and phone calls would result in meeting her Mr. Wonderful tonight. No, she hadn’t signed up for an online dating service because that was stupid. Also needy, and then there was the fact that her father and stepbrothers would kill her if they heard about it. So when Bruce had begun to re-tweet her on a regular basis, when he too agreed that even a pinch of garlic soothed the soul, Sophia decided to take their mutual Twitter affection to the next level. For a month they’d exchanged text messages and photographs. Bruce lived fifty miles away in Oakland and he was a hunk. The photos didn’t lie.
“You’re nervous.” Lizzie settled an arm around Sophia’s shoulder. “Don’t be, hon. You’re beautiful and desirable. Any man would be lucky to—”
“Yeah, yeah!” Sophia shrugged the arm off her shoulder.
She didn’t need sympathy from the tall slim blonde in the room. If Sophia hadn’t had many— okay, any— relationships in the past few years it was simply because she’d been a workaholic. But thanks to Sophia, her father, Giancarlo, now enjoyed the fruits of a solid retirement. He and her stepmother Eileen were touring Italy for the fourth (or was it fifth?) time this year.
“Angie, get over here and tell Sophia how any man on earth would be damn lucky to have her,” Lizzie called out.
The oven door slammed shut and Angie stalked over. “You’re beautiful, curvy, smart, kind, you have an unnatural talent for tasting exactly how many garlic bulbs are in a sauce and any man would be blah, blah, blah. Now get out there and do your thing!”
Her two best friends were right. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had this pep talk with herself this morning and every morning for the past six years. “Aw thanks, Angie. Especially for the blah blah.” She put a hand on her heart. “So moving.”
Sophia turned on the heel of the FMPs that were murdering her feet and went through the kitchen door to join her family. Because these people here tonight were her family. She had her regulars, people like Ophelia and Ed who had been customers since her father’s days running the place. Plus she had a whole new crew of younger customers. Her stepbrothers Wallace, Billy and Scott and their wives and children came in weekly, whether it was for a date night or a kid’s birthday. They often brought their friends, which included the entire fire department. At last count she had fourteen nieces and nephews.
Sophia passed her mother Leah’s framed picture on the wall in its place of honor. “Hi, Mama.” Raising her right hand to her lips, Sophia kissed the pads of her fingers, then placed the kiss on Mama’s smiling face.
It was a ritual.
She liked to imagine that Mama watched over all of them from heaven. Sophia may have only been ten when Mama died, but like she used to do when she was alive and running the restaurant, Sophia flitted about the tables laughing, talking, pouring wine, and taking photos.
“Good evening, Mrs. St. Michaels,” Sophia stopped at the woman’s table. Tonight she was dining with her oldest son, Frank. “More wine?”
Sophia had a keen eye for every detail of a table, and Frank’s glass was nearly empty. She poured from the bottle of Brooke’s Merlot, one of their finest wines from the vineyard her stepbrother Billy and his wife ran.
“Thank you, dear. Everything’s great as usual. My compliments to the chef.” Mrs. St. Michaels raised her glass.
“I’ll tell her.” Sophia returned the smile and moved to the next table. Then the next.
She filled wine glasses, returned empty plates to the kitchen, and engaged in warm conversation. Sophia had her hand in every part of the business, from management to welcome to the food. She was often the first person to greet a patron, which meant her eyes were constantly riveted to the entrance. Speaking of which, it was almost time for her date to arrive. She glanced at the wall clock— eight o’clock.
Bruce was late. Not a good first impression for their first official meeting. Sophia was already nervous, as she’d never before agreed to meet any of the many men she’d met online in person. She needed her phone to check if she’d received any recent texts. Unfortunately, not only was she wearing her hot little black dress tonight with no wiggle room, but she’d recently decided that she needed to get a handle on her social media…addiction, some in her family called it. It wasn’t an addiction, exactly. More like a casualty of the nature of her business, if you will. If not for her powerful online social media presence, Giancarlo’s wouldn’t have nearly thirty thousand followers and counting. Three times the population of the town itself, should anyone care to notice.
But late at night when she was curled up in bed, her phone lying next to her charging (and waking her with constant alerts) Sophia wondered. Maybe her sisters and sisters-in-laws were right. They seemed to think she had an unhealthy attachment to something that wasn’t real.
She was working on it.
Sophia checked the reservation book at the front podium. No more reservations confirmed tonight but there were always drop-ins on a Friday. She did a quick sweep of the room and confirmed three cleared tables for the overflow. And, of course, a table set aside for her and Bruce, should he bother to show up. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay out of the kitchen, where she’d left her phone. He’d either show up or he wouldn’t. If he didn’t he probably had a decent explanation.
End of story.
Sophia sensed more than saw the door to the restaurant opening, and her eyes followed the movement, staying riveted to the door. Any minute now Bruce would walk in and her shiny new future would begin. And a man did step through the door—handsome, rugged, dark eyes edgy and penetrating. Sophia stared because this wasn’t her future.
It was her past.
“Hey.” He grinned, as if they were just old friends who’d run into each other.
Sophia’s heart slammed into her chest. Not this. Not now. She drew in a deep breath and closed her slackened jaw. “Riley.”
“Yeah.”
If not for the chocolate brown eyes she might not have recognized the man. He’d always worn a military cut, short and square. Now the wavy brown hair teased his collar. And either he hadn’t shaved today, or he was trying to grow a beard.
“I’m sorry, what are you doing here?”
Riley made a show of looking past her to the tables. “This is a restaurant. Maybe I want a bite to eat.”
“Too bad. You’re a little late.” She pretended to check the reservations list and flipped a page. “And we have no tables left.”
He continued to grin, the classic Riley smile that never reached his eyes. “How about that one over there?”
“That’s reserved
for me. And my date.” God, please, please, let him show up and put Riley to shame. Bruce was every bit as good looking as Riley. And so far, at least online, he’d been nothing but kind and attentive. Sweet, even.
He pointed. “What about that table? Hell, I’ll sit in the corner. I’m tired, I’m hungry and I want to sit down.”
She threw up her hands and grabbed a menu. “Fine.”
Murderous pumps digging into her heels, she limped over to the nearest table to her reserved one. At least this way he’d get a good look at Bruce and with any luck leave with his tail between his legs, sorry he’d ever set foot in Starlight Hill.
“Thanks.” He folded his long jean-clad legs under the table.
“I’ll send your waitress over.”
He grabbed her wrist before she’d moved an inch. “I want a bottle of your best Merlot.”
She shook him off. “Are you expecting anyone to join you?”
He didn’t even blink. “Nope.”
Since he’d gone straight to reading the menu she got the idea he wouldn’t elaborate. Typical Riley. Man of few words and irritating as hell. The thing to do in any shocking event or situation was to just keep moving and keep routines in place. She’d learned that years ago, and she put it into practice now. Sophia limped past Lizzie, who was putting the check down on table five.
She followed Sophia into the kitchen, nearly bumping into her ass. “Why didn’t you sit Bruce at your table? Holy crap, he’s even better looking than his photos. Got that whole Heathcliff thing going on. Tall, dark and studly. Appropriate, yet devastating scowl in place.”
Sophia slipped off her pumps and nearly sobbed in relief. Damn blood suckers. “That’s not Bruce.”
“Tiramisu!” Angie yelled. “Table eight.”
George grabbed his order and was out the door.
“You mean Bruce actually showed up?” Angie peeked out the door. “And here I thought maybe you were being fish hooked. Or reeled in. Fish baited?”
“Cat-fished,” Lizzie said with a smirk.
“I’m not being cat-fished and that man out there isn’t Bruce.” Sophia rubbed the heel of her right foot, which had taken most of the punishment.
“Who is he then?” This was from Lizzie.
“Riley.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
“The Riley?” Angie asked.
Sophia nodded. That brought on a group hug, and Sophia was soon squished between Angie and Lizzie. The combination of Lizzie’s designer perfume and Angie’s garlic/basil/butter/tomato smells were enough to make Sophia dizzy.
“Oh honey.” Angie hooked her finger towards the back of the kitchen. “You want some Godiva chocolate from my private stash?”
Sophia peeled the girls off. “Guys, I’m fine. Remember? I’ve got Bruce. It’s all good. Anyway, Riley’s the past. I’m moving forward with no fear. Living out loud.”
“Sure,” Angie said. “That was your New Year’s resolution.”
“Move forward.” Lizzie nodded. “And it’s only January the third, so it’s not time to give up on those resolutions yet.”
“And to have a date with someone new by Valentine’s Day.” Sophia reminded her. And maybe if this thing with Bruce worked out, she’d be with him on Valentine’s Day, her favorite holiday of the year.
While others were making resolutions to lose weight, get healthy and stop smoking, Sophia had made a resolution to start living again. Stop feeling stuck. Part of living large again was going to have to involve meeting men in real life. No more online dalliances that never went anywhere. No. More. Fear.
Sophia went for her phone. “I need to see if Bruce texted me. He’s late.”
Wonderful. A text from Bruce, sent thirty minutes ago.
Sorry, babe. Can’t meet tonight. Called in to an emergency at the hospital. Another gunshot victim. Later. Xoxoxo.
Sophia sighed. Of course work would take precedence. Among other things, Bruce was an emergency room doctor in Oakland where he saw and dealt with gang violence on a daily basis. When he wasn’t tending to gunshot victims and saving lives, he was organizing trips with Doctors Without Borders.
“He can’t make it tonight.”
“Again? Another gunshot victim?” Lizzie scowled.
“How many is that this month?” Angie asked.
Sophia sadly shook her head. “Way too many.”
Lizzie opened her mouth, then shut it. Opened it again. “Let me get another look at this Riley.”
“After me.” Angie elbowed her way to the door.
Sophia watched in horror as her two friends’ heads stuck out the door. Lizzie, taller than petite Angie, stretched on tiptoes over her head. Sophia took one second to haul them both back in. “Stop it. What’s he going to think? Did he see you?”
Angie appeared to have been hit with a Lust Stick. “Um, yeah. Maybe?”
“Totally worth it.” Lizzie sighed.
Sophia stuck her head out the door, and right back in again when she caught Riley staring in her direction. Smiling. “He saw you!”
“He’s gorgeous.” Angie went back to her pans and stirred sauce.
“So is Bruce. Do you want me to whip out the photos again?” Sophia pressed buttons on her phone.
“No, please don’t. Bruce is great, but you know, he’s not here,” Lizzie said.
“Ever.” Angie added.
“Wow. The guy has a lot of responsibilities and commitments. He’s a wonderful person. Eventually we will meet. You’ll see!” Sophia waved her phone in the air.
Lizzie put her arm around Sophia. “We know, hon. And now I better get out there and take Mr. Hunk’s order. So if you’ll excuse me. Duty calls.”
She sashayed out the doors, hips swinging.
“That doesn’t bother you?” Angie asked, her eyes following Lizzie.
“What?”
“Lizzie is going to flirt with him. It’s what she does.”
“He’s a free agent and can flirt with whoever he wants. So can she, for that matter.”
“Hmmm.” Angie threw more spices in the sauce. Stirred. Threw a pitiful glance in Sophia’s direction. Stirred again.
“Do not look at me that way.”
“What way?”
“Like I’m the lonely ex. I’m not! This thing with Bruce is happening.” Except she wasn’t sure what she’d do tonight, since she’d just told Riley that her date was expected.
Maybe the truth would work. She was dating a busy guy who had a lot on his plate. A do-gooder to the Nth degree. Not like Riley would be jealous or anything, and oh God why was he here? It couldn’t just be that he was hungry. There were plenty of restaurants in Starlight Hill, even some other Italian ones. Of course none as good as hers, but what did he know? As far as she knew, he’d been out of the country for years! He could eat anywhere else in town and never know the difference.
Lizzie was back within minutes. “It’s like I’m not even a woman. He hardly looked at me. What’s wrong with that guy?”
Riley wasn’t the flirtatious type. Never had been. He tended to be more the edgy silent type, which had been so sexy until it was damned annoying. “It’s just his way. Don’t worry, you’re still beautiful.”
“Well. Naturally.” Lizzie fanned herself and put up her order. “He wants the Puttanesca.”
“Oh, of course he does!” Angie threw up her hands. “The one night it’s short a garlic clove.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Only I would notice.”
Time to get back out there, and flit around the tables like Mama. Time to pretend the man who’d harvested her heart and eaten it like a peach wasn’t sitting at a table for the first time in years, about to find out that she’d been stood up tonight. Sophia slipped The Killers back on her feet and limped out the door. Avoiding Riley’s table wouldn’t be hospitable so she swung by, taking care to throw him a casual and completely non-sexual look (easy to do with the pain of the shoes).
“More wine?” His wine glass was empty.<
br />
Naturally, he didn’t say a word because that would mean speaking. Instead he fixed her with a look equal parts badass and sailor-on-leave.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She poured.
“Sit down with me.”
Also Riley’s way. Orders. The man tended to forget she wasn’t a fellow Marine. “I’m sorry? Did you ask me something?”
He cleared his throat, stretched and grinned. “Sit down?”
“No, sorry, can’t. I’m working.” She waved her arm around the room.
“Thought you had a date.” He glanced at the empty table nearby.
“Oh, that. He got held up at the hospital.” She smiled, like it didn’t matter one tiny little bit.
“Hospital? Shame. What does he have? Cancer?”
“No! Bruce is a doctor. He saves lives.”
“Impressive.”
“Exactly!”
“So that means you have time to sit down with me.”
“I do not.” She seemed to be pinned under those lazy dark eyes.
“Sure you do. You had plans to knock off early for Ben—”
She cut him off. “His name is Bruce.”
“Whatever. Now that he’s not coming, you can knock off early to sit with an old friend.”
For Riley to call himself an ‘old friend’ hit Sophia square in the chest. That’s what it had come to. The man she’d lost her everything to, the man who’d been her everything, was an ‘old friend.’
And two could play this game. “Sure, pal. Let me just get a glass so I can join you.”
She reached for a wine goblet from the table she’d set up for her and Bruce and joined Riley.
Riley poured for her before she could do it. “Tell me about your guy.”
This was new. “You really want to hear this?”
“I asked.”
Sophia proceeded to tell him about Bruce and all his accomplishments. How they’d met, leaving out the part that they’d never actually met in person. Riley would take that and run with it, and she already had two supportive but nonetheless big doubters in Angie and Lizzie. They kept saying Bruce was a little too good to be true.
“Has he applied for Sainthood yet?”
THE STARLIGHT HILL COMPLETE COLLECTION: 1-8 Page 89
