by Shirley Jump
She picked up her tray again and headed off to pick up the order for table eleven.
The kink reappeared in Dante's neck. Twice as tight and three times as large. Maybe Rochelle was right. Maybe Vita wasn't meant to be anything more than it was.
And maybe he was a fool for ever thinking differently.
Monica's Be-Loved-for-Who-You-Are Fruit Salad
Juice of 3 oranges
Juice of 1 lemon
I banana, sliced
2 apples, sliced
I pear, chunked
2 peaches, chunked
4 apricots, chunked
2/3 cup red grapes, cut in halves
2/3 cup raspberries
Sugar, to taste (as sweet as you need it to be)
Mix the juices in a bowl, then add all the fruits. Sprinkle sugar over all and stir to mix together. No other decorations or frou-frou needed. This is come as you are-and be loved au naturel.
Share with someone who loves you, rain or shine, in Kenneth Cole or Kathie Lee Gifford. Be sure to have a Iittle kibble on hand, too, for the other unconditional love of your life.
CHAPTER 32
"1 swear on my firstborn child, this is not some evil matchmaking scheme," Rebecca said on Saturday morning
"Yeah, yeah." Maria grinned. "I wouldn't put it past Momma to conspire with your OB." She reached out and drew Rebecca into a hug. "Seriously, though, I'm happy for you. Congratulations."
"And here I thought I was so tired because I was working too hard." Rebecca rubbed at her belly. "All the signs add up. I was too stupid to see them."
"You're a mom, a wife, a business owner," Candace said, joining the two for a triple embrace. "I think it's understandable you might not notice a missed period or two."
Rebecca shook her head. "Well, whether I'm ready or not, number two is on the way."
Maria smiled. "I'm going to like being an aunt-by proxy again. I can now spoil two kids and give them back to you, high on candy."
"Not to mention spoiled with big, noisy presents." Candace grinned.
"You two are all heart." Rebecca's smile edged into a frown and she sat back against the counter. Her face washed from pale to lime green. "Oh, damn. Here's that nasty side effect. morning-noon-and-night sickness."
Maria laughed and grabbed Rebecca's spring jacket and purse off the coatrack. "Go home. Get some rest.. Have some crackers. And let Jeremy spoil you for as long as you can get away with it. Candace and I can handle the rest of the day. All of next week if you need it."
"Aw, thanks. Listen, if you don't want to go to Vita, you can take those baskets over to Vogler Adver-"
"Oh, no, that's all mine. I insist on a personal delivery of the Vogler order," Candace said.
"Gee, wonder why you're volunteering." Maria grinned, then tossed her the van keys. "Go. Try not to drool oven Michael. I'll go to Vita when you get back."
"Can't help myself." Candace smiled. "I'm in love."
Rebecca groaned. "You make me remember what I used to be like. A hundred years ago. Before"-she pressesd a hand to her stomach-"being with my husband made me ill."
Candace laughed. "It's a good ill, though."
A contented smile filled Rebecca's face. "It is indeed."
After a quick stop in the kitchen, Maria walked Candace and Rebecca out of the shop. "Here," she said, handing Rebecca a can of ginger ale and a package of crackers. "For the road. Just in case."
A watery smile crossed Rebecca's lips. "This is why you two are my best friends."
"Oh, I meant to tell you. Monica is on her way in," Candace said. "And I have a delivery to make. What a pity." She dangled the keys.
Maria groaned. "Monica is coming by again? What's the big change this time?"
"I think all she's doing is adding planes," Candace said. "You're getting off easy."
"Do I want to know why?"
"Apparently her fiance is a member of the Wannabe Mile High Club."
"Wannabe?"
"He's never quite had the guts to do more than turn the bathroom lock to `Occupied.' "
"That's a start."
"Hey, everyone has a mission."
Maria laughed. "Mine is to get through this diet without killing myself or Mary Louise. The reunion is only three weeks away. But... I'm not so sure I want to go anymore."
"Why not?"
"I don't know." Maria shrugged. "Stand around for a few hours, playing one-upmanship with a bunch of people I didn't like much then and I don't like much now. I don't have anything to prove anymore, so what's the point?"
Candace chuckled. "Revenge, of course. Show them you've become a business owner. A success."
"Everyone who is important to me already knows that."
Rebecca cocked her head. "Boy, you're sure sounding different lately. You practicing yoga or something?"
Maria shook herself. "Not enough calories, that's all. Makes me maudlin."
Rebecca laughed. "How's the diet going?"
"As long as I stay away from temptation, I'm okay."
"In the form of one sexy chef?"
Maria made a noncommittal sound.
Rebecca pivoted back toward the store. "Listen, I shouldn't make you take his cookie order over there. You're trying to avoid him. I can handle the trip."
"No." Maria gently turned Rebecca around toward the sidewalk. "You go home. Make a baby. I can handle seeing Dante."
"Who knows," Rebecca said, smiling over her shoulder. "It might turn into a happy ending for you, too."
"Hey, I thought you said this wasn't a matchmaking scheme."
"No, it's not." She winked. "That's just another side effect."
Maria shooed Rebecca on her way. "I'd rather have the morning sickness."
As soon as Rebecca had rounded the corner, but before Maria and Candace could duck for cover, a long black stretch limo pulled up in front of the store. "Toodles!" Monica called, stepping from the car with Aphrodite in tow. "I stopped by to add a few finishing touches to the wedding desserts."
"Any major changes?" Behind her back, Maria crossed her fingers.
Monica laughed. "Of course not. What do you think I am? Flighty?"
Neither Candace nor Maria said a word. They merely smiled.
"I was thinking about adding some planes. Lester is just wild about anything that moves," Monica said, laughing. "Oh, and putting cabooses on the train cookies," she began, walking into the shop. Aphrodite tugged at her leash, in the opposite direction Monica was going. "Oh, puppy, do you need to make wee wee?" The dog barked. "I'll be right back. Aphrodite needs to powder her nose." Monica walked around the corner, praising her dog's manners the whole way.
'Well at least she didn't need to powder it on our front stoop," Maria said.
"Or worse, in our rest room." Candace unlocked the van and climbed inside.
"Do you think she'd actually teach her dog to do that?"
"Anything's possible with Monica." Candace shut the van door and rolled down the window. "Sorry for leaving you with her."
"Sure you are. Have fun."
Candace grinned. "I always do when I see Michael." tike started the engine and pulled away.
For a second, Maria wondered what it would be like to r feel that way about a man-and have him feel the n;urre in return. Never had she been loved like that. Never had she felt that secure about another person's feelings.
A twinge of something ached inside her. She refused to call it jealousy. Hunger pains, that's what it was. Not envy for what Candace and Rebecca had.
'We're all done with Number One," Monica said, coming back around the corner. "Now it's time for people business."
They entered Gift Baskets and sat at a small round table in the front of the shop. Maria had pulled Monica's file Irom the cabinet behind the counter. "Okay," she said, settling into the seat across from Monica, "you want to add planes and cabooses?"
Monica nodded. "In cookies, like the train engines are."
Maria nodded, making a notation. 'We can d
o that. 'there are still a couple weeks left."
"I just want everything to be perfect." Monica sighed. "You only get married once, you know."
"Well, some people do it many times."
Monica shook her head. "I don't want to be one of those people. I want it to be right the first time."
Maria wrote caboose on the order form. Her hand stilled. She twirled the pen between her fingers. "Monica, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"How did you know Lester was the right one?"
Monica's smile softened everything about her face, as if the mere thought of her fiance made her into a puddle of melted butter. "I didn't at first. It's hard for me. Every man I met always wanted me for Daddy's money. Like I was a bankbook and they only wanted to make withdrawals."
The admission caught Maria by surprise. Monica Thurgood, one of the wealthiest heiresses in Boston, had gone through some of the same dating dilemmas as an average girl from the North End. "I'm not from wealth, but I know what it's like to be wanted for everything but yourself."
Monica stroked Aphrodite's petite head. "Lester was very determined. He didn't quit on me. I quit on him once or twice, though."
"You did?"
Monica nodded. "Even told him I hated trains." She bit her lip. "Almost broke his little engineer's heart."
"But how did you know he was the one?"
Monica shooed Aphrodite off her lap and leaned forward on her elbows. "When I finally realized Lester didn't care one bit about Daddy's money. He likes simple things and never cared where we went, as long as he was with me. He's happy racing two H-O scales with me."
"H-O scales?"
Monica blushed under her flawless Estee Lauder. "It's a type of train. Lester has taught me a lot. About ... well, everything." Her gaze went to some distantt place of memories. "But really, I knew he was the conductor to my engine when I realized I was more me when I was with him. Less Thurgood and more Monica." She giggled. "If that makes sense."
Maria nodded, the pangs in her gut ten times stronger now. "It does. Perfect sense."
Maria's Twisted-Apologies Lover's Knots
I 1/4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
pinch of salt
1/4 cup confectioners' sugar, divided, like your heart
I egg, beaten, just like your emotions
I tablespoon rum or brandy
Vegetable oil, for deep frying of pastries and of your conscience
Sift the flour, baking powder and salt, then stir in two tablespoons of the sugar. Incorporate egg with a fork, Own add the rum until the dough draws together into out big lump, a lot like the one in your throat. Knead the dough on a lightly floured surface, working out your regrets and creating a good apology speech, until it's smooth. Separate dough into four pieces.
Roll each piece into a rectangle, about five inches long and three inches wide. Cut these into 1/2-inch wide ships and tie into knots similar to the ones tearing up your stomach with guilt.
Heat the oil in a fryer until it reaches 375 degrees. Fry the Lover's Knots for a couple of minutes, until crisp and golden. Drain on paper towels, then sprinkle with remaining sugar. Serve warm, to someone you want to reconcile with.
Be sure your apology is as sweet as your dessert and everything will be all right with your lover's world again.
CHAPTER 33
"Your sweetheart is here. And she has a gift for you." Franco practically sang the words.
"Maria? She's here?"
The smirk on Franco's face was akin to a parent with a Power Wheels behind their back on Christmas Day.
' To see me?"
Franco nodded.
Dante stood, his desk chair rocketing across the tiled floor and sliding into the wall with a clang. He was out the door and into the main part of the restaurant in an instant.
Until he saw her. Then all movements ceased.
She was, as always, gorgeous. She stood there, holding a big cardboard box, wearing a pink T-shirt, dark snug jeans and black boots with little heels. Her hair was back in a clippie thing again, the tendrils determinedly slipping out of the sides, tickling down her neck.
He shouldn't care she was here. His heart shouldn't thud at the sight of her. But apparently his brain hadn't had time to lecture the rest of him since that night in the restaurant.
Either way, he wasn't going to let her see how he felt. He was done pursuing a woman who had chosen another.
"Hi," he said.
"Here's your-" Maria's mind went blank. On the trip over, she'd planned out a big speech. Twenty reasons why they shouldn't let their personal differences interfere with business. But then..
But then she'd seen Dante. And everything she'd thought about today, all the words she'd heard from Rebecca, Candace and Monica, came tumbling back.
Every word of her argument stopped making sense.
"I brought your-" she tried again. What the hell did she have in her hands, anyway?
"Cookies?" Dante supplied.
"Oh, yeah. Cookies."
"Thank you." He took the box from her. No smile. No expression. A man conducting business, nothieq, more. "I thought you weren't dealing with my account.'
"Rebecca was a little under the weather so I offerd to make the delivery."
"Well." He cleared his throat. "If you need payment now-"
"There's an invoice in the box. Standard thirty-day terms."
"Good." He shifted the box into one arm, as if it weighed no more than a paper clip. "Do you need anything else?"
"No. Nothing." She bit back the question on the tip of her tongue. "Nothing at all."
His face hardened. "That's what I thought."
Maria pivoted and turned to go, disappointment weighing as heavy as a ten-pound block of provolone in her gut. What had she expected? That he'd be friendly and happy to see her? That he'd go on chasing after her indefinitely?
She'd been the one to ignore him after their night together, as if pretending it hadn't happened would make it go away.
She'd been the one who had invited Antonio to pick her up at Vita.
She'd been the one to turn dating into an S&M ritual where everyone got hurt.
Two months ago, she'd had a plan. Lose twenty-five pounds, astound her old boyfriend and then go on with business as usual. Staying single. And happy.
But now, her life was as twisted and sticky as a pot of overcooked spaghetti. And she wasn't happy at all.
The pangs in her stomach intensified with every step toward the door. She must be hungry. And yet ... never had she felt this kind of want for a food.
As she neared the exit, Maria realized the pain in her gut wasn't from hunger. It was misery. Loneliness. Maybe even ... a bit of love ... all jumbled into one. Before she could do something really stupid-like leave-she circled back toward him.
Dante hadn't moved. He stood in the same place, still holding the box, watching her.
His eyes held no expression, no clue to how he was feeling. Or if he still felt anything at all for her.
She'd screwed up. A lot worse than when she'd eaten all the Twinkies and an entire margherita pie in one sitting. She'd chosen Door Number Two and gotten the jackass.
When the real hero-with the heart of gold-was right there all the time, waiting for her to wake up. She had, finally, but ...
Maybe too late.
"I was wrong," she said.
"If you can wait a second, I'll grab the checkbook and-"
"Not about the payment." She took a step closer. The dark intimacy of Vita surrounded them like a blanket. Beside her, a wall sconce flickered. "I was wrong about us."
He took in a breath. "Wrong how?"
"I was afraid. Hell, I still am. Afraid of commitment, of being hurt. Afraid of love." She smiled at him, a tentative smile, searching for a response. Something flickered in his eyes and she plunged forward. "And most of all, afraid of you."
This time, he moved closer to her. "Afraid of me? Why?"
"Always the diet, huh?"
"My mission in life is to get out of the double digits of dress sizes."
"Why are you so unhappy with the way you look?"
She shrugged, as if the answer was a small thing, butt he could see it mattered more than that. "I don't look like other women."
"You aren't other women, that's the point. You're already perfect the way you are."
Maria shook her head, a refusal forming on her lips.
"Don't say it. Because I'll just disagree. And I have a lot of disagreements ready." Dante put out his hand, ticking off the reasons. "You're funny. You're smart. You're strong." He raised his hand, pressed it lightly to her heart. "In here, where it counts. When you love, you love with everything in you. I've seen it with your family. And when you hurt, you hurt deeply. Everything about you, Maria, is real and true."
She caught his hand with her own. "I've never met a man who noticed those kinds of things about me."
He reached up, catching a tendril of that misbehaving hair between his fingers. "That's because I've been treading water in the deep end for a long damned time, waiting for you."
The smile on her face wavered, her eyes now misty as a foggy day. "Dante, I-"
"Don't say it. Just say, `Okay.' " He cupped her chin .urd tipped her face towards his.
"Okay." She smiled, then sighed. "This is too much right now. I ..." She took in a breath, let it go. "I don't know where I want to go from here yet. Where we should go."
"Simple answer." He grinned. "The kitchen."
"The kitchen?"
"It's lunchtime. Stay and eat with me."
"I thought you weren't open for lunch."
"I am for very special customers." He touched the twin peaks of her upper lip. "You're the most special customer I have."
"But aren't you usually busy right now, getting ready for dinner?"
They hadn't been busy all week. If he told her Whitman's latest review had sent the customers in the opposite irection from Vita, she'd leave now and he wouldn't get a chance to say what he wanted to say. He didn't really need the cookies from Gift Baskets anymore.
But he sure as hell needed her.
"Right this minute the only thing I'm busy with is convincing you to try my tortellini."