Greg gave her a questioning smile.
“The night you and David had it out, you said I should think about the many ways that we’re different. It’s right here.” She gestured toward the pizza. “We’re meat and anchovies. Old Vermont Yankee and immigrant Italian, white collar and blue collar, Protestant and Catholic.”
“I was angry.” His smile was gone.
“White and not so white—”
“Stop!” Anguish contorted his face as he stared at her. “I don’t care what our differences are! They make it all the more interesting! I was angry that day. I felt like an outsider, and I was lashing out.” His voice lowered to just above a whisper. “I love you, Connie. You must know that!”
Connie stared across the table at him, dumbfounded. He looked frightened, totally out of his element, as startled by what he had said as she was.
Confusion overtook her. “How can you say that? We have nothing in common. You said so yourself.”
He leaned across the table toward her, his gray eyes drawing her in. “I was wrong. We have everything. We’re smart and educated, and we can do whatever we want. Live wherever we want. Start over and do it right this time. Finish our degrees and create a life together doing what we believe is right for us. Who cares if we don’t vote for the same guy to be president, or you eat freaking anchovies? How is any of that important when you love someone?”
Connie sat staring at him, rendered speechless by the intensity of his emotion. He had no reason to love her. All they did was argue. Their one date had ended in disaster, with her an hysterical wreck. She had embarrassed him in front of her family. She was unsophisticated and rough around the edges, and he was uptown and well-bred. He belonged with Candy What’s-her-face at a country club somewhere, not eating pizza in a dive with Connie.
“I’m sorry.” He sat back in his chair, his expression caught between anger and remorse. “I’m sure you didn’t want to hear any of that.” His eyes shifted to focus on something past her shoulder, at the front of the restaurant. “Don’t look now, but Paul just walked in.”
Paul? Connie fought the urge to immediately turn around, her heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and surprise. She watched Greg’s face with trepidation. “Does he see us?”
Greg fixed his gaze on the action behind her. “No, he’s with three other people, and they’re looking at the menu board.”
Oh, my God. Connie was aching to turn and see who Paul was with, yet frightened to have him see her there with Greg. She considered slouching in the booth seat. “What kind of people?”
“A guy and two women.”
Connie closed her eyes. A guy and two women? He was out with a woman and another couple?
“The couple looks older,” Greg said. “Not like parent-old, but not our age, either. The girl is more like us.”
She had never met the guy Paul was apprenticed to. Maybe it was him and his wife and… somebody else.
“I think they’re just buying stuff to go,” Greg reported. “It looks like they’re picking out slices.”
Connie drew a deep breath and stared at the tabletop, unsure which was worse—Paul seeing her there with Greg or Paul’s being with another woman.
“They’re paying and leaving.”
Connie continued to stare at the table. Paul had told her he had to work. Was he really out with someone else?
“They’re gone. He never saw us.”
Connie felt sick to her stomach. She turned her face away from the window on the chance that Paul might look in from the parking lot and see her there. And if he did, what would he feel? Anger that she was there with Greg? Chagrin that he was with someone else? Remorse? Nothing?
“You never looked to see for yourself.” Greg’s expression had gone cold. “How do you know I didn’t make that up?”
Connie frowned at him. The thought had never entered her mind. “Did you?”
“Me?” His eyes bored into hers, and his voice was laden with sarcasm. “I’m too nice to do that to you.”
Connie’s temper flared. Had Paul been there, or not? “Except now you’re being an asshole.”
Greg gave her a humorless smile. “I didn’t make it up, Connie. And anyway, it could have been his boss.”
“Could have been.” She was determined to hurt him now. “After all, here we are, and it doesn’t mean a damn thing!”
Greg looked at her without answering, then reached for a piece of sausage pizza. They ate in silence, then maintained that silence for the remainder of the trip to the Park and Ride.
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday, November 2
Connie and Gianna sat at the kitchen table on Saturday morning, lingering over cups of coffee. Connie had begun her day by shoveling three inches of heavy, wet snow from the public sidewalk in front of their property while her father cleared the approach to the store’s front door and the sidewalk leading to the outside stairs. While Connie shoveled, Gianna had opened the store, turning on lights and counting out the cash drawer as part of her job as the store’s bookkeeper. She and Mamma checked the temperatures of the cold cases and refilled the shelves where necessary, then took inventory of backstock and made their order for the coming week. Meanwhile, Angie had vacuumed the living room upstairs and cleaned the bathroom before preparing to leave for the weekend.
Connie stirred more sugar into the strong dark coffee that her father had made. “Where’s she going?”
“Spending the weekend with friends.” Gianna took a biscotto from the plate in the middle of the table and plunged one end into her cup of coffee.
“What friends? When did you or I get to spend a whole weekend with friends at fifteen?”
Gianna concentrated on letting the cookie drip its excess coffee back into her cup. “She didn’t say. And the answer to your other question is… never.”
Connie sipped her coffee. “I haven’t seen David for weeks. Is everything okay?”
Gianna’s smile was immediate. “He’s been pretty busy, but, yeah, everything’s good.”
“He’s not avoiding me because of that thing with Greg?”
Gianna’s face registered surprise. “He’s not avoiding you. He was here last Sunday for supper. You were at Paul’s house.”
Connie reached for the plate of cookies between them. Paul had yet to meet David, and Connie had no idea how well he would accept a black man dating a white girl, especially one from the neighborhood. She looked up at her sister. “How many people around here know about you and David?”
“Not many. Nonna. The Aunts, I suppose. I don’t know if they’ve told anyone about him.” Gianna gave her a knowing look. “You haven’t told Paul, have you?”
Connie shook her head.
Gianna’s eyes narrowed. “Embarrassed?”
Connie bristled. “Why haven’t you brought him to church with the family? Then I wouldn’t have to tell people.”
“He doesn’t come down from St. J until after lunch.”
“Why doesn’t he stay overnight with Father I? That would be an easy solution to all that traveling back and forth,” Connie said.
Gianna raised her chin with an air of self-righteousness. “He doesn’t like to impose.”
Connie knew that Gianna had never spent the night with David. Even when they had traveled to Boston to see his mother, he had brought her home the same day. Yet she couldn’t resist provoking Gianna just a little. “Have you slept with him?”
Gianna’s eyes widened, her expression indignant as her cheeks blanched. “How can you even ask me that? Have you slept with Paul?”
“No. But I’d like to.”
To her disappointment, Gianna didn’t flinch. “Greg?”
The question irritated Connie more than it should have. “Of course not! That relationship died on the vine, if you remember!”
“Geez, are you guys at it again?” Angie came into the room from the hallway. She was wearing her red winter coat and carrying a small overnight bag and an armful of textbo
oks. Her long dark braids trailed down the front of her coat, which was layered over a midi-length plaid skirt and a pair of brown and tan L.L. Bean hunting boots.
“Nice outfit,” Connie said with a grin. “Where are you going?”
“To a friend’s.”
“Overnight?”
“Yes.” Angie swung the bag over her shoulder and repositioned her books.
“Are they picking you up?”
“No, I’m meeting them at the church.”
“Do you want a ride? Looks like a lot to carry.”
Angie shook her head and smiled. “No, I’m fine. Exercise is good. I’d rather walk.”
“When will you be home?”
“Geez, what is this, the Inquisition? This is parentally approved. Be nice to each other.” Angie bustled past them and hurried out the kitchen door without looking back.
“She’s probably the only kid in her class who could actually tell you what the Inquisition was,” Connie said with an appreciative grin.
Gianna sipped at her coffee. “She’ll be sixteen in a couple weeks. She’s no baby, Connie.”
“That’s my point. She’s a little smarty-pants.”
“Did you see her eyes?”
“Her eyes?” Connie looked toward the kitchen door, as if she’d be able to see Angie’s eyes in spite of the fact that she had left.
“She’s been crying. She cries a lot. Usually before you get home. I hear her in her room after school.”
Connie met Gianna’s worried gaze. “I thought that had stopped. Do you know why? Are kids picking on her?”
Gianna shook her head. “I doubt it. She has a load of friends. I don’t know. She won’t talk about it.”
“Do Ma and Pa know?”
“That she cries? Yes. They say just to leave her alone, and she’ll be okay. That she’s got stuff to work out.”
That was it? “Stuff to work out,” Connie repeated.
“Well, they don’t say it in exactly those words, but that’s the gist of it.”
Connie let out a sigh of despair. “This is killing me. I want to help her.”
“I asked Mamma about it the other day. She said we’ll know soon enough.”
Connie’s heart skipped a beat. “What does that mean?”
Gianna shook her head once more, then dipped the last of her biscotto into the coffee in her cup. “I don’t know. I guess we have to wait and see.”
***
Paul picked her up shortly after supper. David and Gianna had already left for dinner and a performance of La Boheme at the Flynn Theater in Burlington.
Connie and Paul walked downtown Barre hand-in-hand, looking into shop windows for the perfect anniversary gift for Paul’s parents. They would be celebrating thirty-five years of marriage in the coming week. Large flakes of snow spiraled lazily around them as they strolled Main Street, leaning into each other affectionately, laughing as they joked about various potential gifts.
The tomato-y smell of pizza wafted out from one of the shops, and a nagging anxiety sobered Connie’s mood. “Do you ever go to DeLuca’s?” she asked as they passed the pizza place.
Paul scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Not if I can avoid it. Their crust is too thin. It’s like eating a cracker.”
“I was there last night.” She held tightly to his hand as they kept walking, stealing a glance at him now and then.
Paul frowned. “Last night?”
“Yeah. We stopped on the way home—Greg and I. The roads were terrible, and I was late for supper, so we ate there.”
Paul was quiet for a moment. “How late were you?”
“Not terrible late, but you know how my folks are. If you’re not on time, they don’t wait.”
“So, around six-thirty or what?”
“Yeah, around then.” Connie watched him out of the corner of her eye. He appeared to be deep in thought.
“I was there yesterday, too,” he said at last. “I don’t know what time. We worked through supper, and DeLuca’s was the closest place to get something.”
“Well, you know, Greg said he thought he saw you, but he wasn’t sure. When I turned around, you were already gone.”
Paul stopped walking and faced her. “So, then, what you really want to know is, was I working last night? Right? Because if he saw me, he saw Karen and Janine.”
Connie returned his icy stare. “Karen and Janine?”
“Yeah. Karen owns the house we were working on, and Janine is her daughter. The four of us went together because it’s Karen’s kitchen we were rewiring, and she couldn’t cook.”
“Okay,” Connie said with a shrug, seeking to defuse his anger. “I told Greg it was probably your boss and his wife.”
“And I’ll bet Greg was all over it, wasn’t he?”
“Meaning what?”
“Well, Con.” Paul’s voice was caustic. “You ride with the guy three hours a day, five days a week. You invite him over to dinner at your house. What else do you do with him while you’re in that car?”
Connie’s will-power evaporated. “You son of a bitch! Transferring your guilt to me! Karen and Janine? Whatever happened to calling customers ‘Mrs.’? Who knows what the hell you do with the lonely housewives!” She was completely out of control, and she knew it, accusing him of something for which she had no evidence. Still, his accusations about Greg had been equally unfounded.
“That’s great, Connie! That’s really nice.” He pointed angrily to his own chest as he leaned toward her. “My job puts me in people’s houses every day. I don’t need that kind of attitude.”
“Oh, and I do? I can’t ride to school with some guy without having sex with him?”
People walking around them on the sidewalk were doing their best not to stare. Paul grabbed her upper arm and steered her toward the street that would take them back to his car. Connie yanked her arm out of his grasp and kept walking, her eyes straight ahead.
“I’m sorry,” he said, anger still clipping his words. “I had no reason to say that.”
“I didn’t either. I just made it up because I was mad.”
His car was in view, bringing with it a pang of regret that their evening was already over. She was about to swallow her pride and apologize again, when he stepped in front of her, grasped both her arms, and abruptly pulled her to him. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her in full view of all passers-by, pressing his lips to hers until she was out of breath. “God, you’re great when you’re pissed,” he said as he pulled away.
“That is such a cliché,” she answered, but she couldn’t keep from matching his grin with one of her own.
They resumed their walk to his car, hand-in-hand, laughing as they went. Snow sifted out of the sky to settle on his black curls.
“So, what kind of pizza did you have last night?” Connie asked in a teasing tone.
He gave her a why-would-you-ask look. “Anchovy. It was Friday.”
He drove them to a secluded spot between Barre and Stoneham, and they spent the rest of the evening making out. His warm fingers slipped beneath her sweater to rest on her bra-covered breast, then tugged on the silky material to expose her nipple. She held her breath and waited for his touch. The electric shock that ran through her, all the way to her groin, was incredible, and as she gasped, he bared the other breast and kneaded both nipples with his thumbs, leading her to the edge of giving in to more. But when he groped at the clasp of her pants, she stopped him. She couldn’t let him touch her anywhere else, no matter how much it ached. Not yet, and not tonight. It was too much too soon.
He returned his hands to her breasts beneath the sweater and continued to kiss her. He made her feel beautiful and desirable, and she loved knowing that she made him hard. She rested her hand on the bulge in his pants, and his rapid intake of breath sent an ache through her, causing her to reconsider her own resolve.
Once again Paul was the one who brought their lovemaking to a halt. “I can’t do this, Con.” He looked as though he we
re in pain.
Connie moved away from him and adjusted her bra beneath her sweater. The night air was cold, and when Paul saw her shiver, he pulled off his jacket and handed it to her. “I’m plenty hot,” he said. He repositioned himself in the seat and prepared to start the car. “I meant to ask you, where does Angie go with Father Ianelli?”
Connie slipped first one arm, then the other, into the jacket. “Father Ianelli? What are you talking about?”
“I saw her get in the car with him this morning. She had a duffel bag or something, like she was going on a trip.”
Connie stopped moving to stare at him.“With Father Ianelli?”
“Yeah. You sound like a broken record. You didn’t know?”
Connie pulled the jacket across her chest and held it shut with her fist.“No. She said she was going away for the weekend with a friend.”
Paul snorted. “Some friend.”
What was he implying? “Don’t be an ass. He’s a priest.”
“Come on, Con.” He regarded her with disbelief. “Just ‘cause he’s a priest, doesn’t mean they cut off his coglione.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” How could he think things like that?
But Paul looked seriously worried. “I just think she could be in trouble if she trusts him too much. You know what I mean? Like, why did she have to meet him at the church? Why didn’t he pick her up at your house?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a church group or something.” She was tired of trying to understand Angie and why she did the things she did.
“I didn’t see anybody but her and him.”
What had Gianna said? She cries a lot…
“Shit. Take me home, Paul. I need to talk to my parents.”
***
Mamma was asleep on the couch when Connie walked into her family’s living room; Papa apparently had gone to bed. Connie bent to grasp her mother’s shoulder and gently shook it until Mamma’s eyes blinked open.
“I’m home,” Connie said. “Is Gianna here?”
Hope's Angel Page 15