“Sure.” He was losing the battle. Thick dark lashes rested on his tanned face.
“You have to stop telling people we’re married,” Tessa said softly.
Riley opened one eye.
“You may not believe this, but your life depends on it.”
Tessa parked in the driveway. Resting her head against the seat, she stared at her grandmother’s house. Three generations of Rosetti women had found solace in the old Victorian.
Across the street stood the brick Craftsman style Marconi home, empty for sixth months now. When Sophia Marconi died of a heart attack while traveling through Italy, the house was bequeathed to her only grandchild, Thomas Riley.
Exhaustion dogged Tessa as she walked up the front steps to the porch of her grandmother’s home. The drive to Tri-County Hospital from the tiny town of Silver Ridge took forty-five minutes each way. The September sun was shining, and Tessa hadn’t even been to bed.
Her emotional backpack was wide open after seeing Riley. Open and a mess. How was it they fell back into their old camaraderie so easily?
“Ciao, bella. How is Riley?”
Tessa jumped. Seated on a wicker settee in the corner of the huge porch was her grandmother, the widowed Carmen Rosetti. A tiny woman, her feet failed to touch the ground. For over sixty years she had been wearing a variation of the perpetual mourning outfit. Today, it was a black skirt and white blouse with a black-crocheted sweater resting on her petite shoulders. The only concession to color was a pair of neon blue Nikes. Nonna believed in comfort.
The sun caught the halo of her pure white curls, creating an angelic picture. Tessa wasn’t fooled. This was the Rosetti family matriarch. The woman cursed fluently in Sicilian and had once single-handedly tackled a burglar at the bakery. She’d nearly beaten the man to death with a loaf of day-old sourdough. Yes, Carmen Rosetti was tough. Like her daughter. And her granddaughter.
“Nonna. What are you doing?”
“Praying.”
Tessa glanced at the crystal rosary beads in her grandmother’s lap. “Why aren’t you at the bakery?”
“I have a little headache.”
“It’s called a hangover, Nonna. Did you take aspirin?”
“Grappa. Hair of the cat.”
Tessa’s eyes widened and she suppressed a chuckle. “Hair of the dog. Aspirin would have been a better choice.”
“One less glass of champagne would have been a better choice. But it is not every day your only child marries.”
“Yes, that’s true. But no more grappa, please.”
“Tell me. How is Riley? E ’grave?”
“No, not too serious. A broken leg.” Tessa froze. “How did you know about Riley?”
The older woman clutched a fist to her heart. “I know things, Theresa.”
Tessa leveled her with a gaze. “I checked on you last night, and you were snoring like a train.”
Carmen Rosetti shrugged.
“Well?” Tessa persisted.
Her grandmother handed over the Saturday morning Silver Ridge Gazette. “It’s in the paper, and Chickie Pollero’s aunt stopped by to personally tell me. She said she was in the neighborhood. Pah. You know what happens to liars.”
Tessa looked up from the paper. “Their noses grow?”
“No, they go straight to you-know-where.”
“Doesn’t that seem harsh?” Tessa sank down on the settee beside her grandmother as she continued to read the newspaper account of the explosion.
Grandma Rosetti turned to her. “You were at the hospital?”
“Yes. Riley had the staff call me. But how did he get my number?”
“I gave it to him.”
“Of course you gave him my number, and then you forgot to mention he was coming to the wedding?” Tessa tried for a stern look. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her grandmother wrapped the rosary around her wrist. “You didn’t ask.”
“Nonna.”
“You have a lot on your mind.” She patted Tessa’s cheek. “I don’t like to bother you.”
“Bother me? Why would you be afraid to bother me?”
“Your mother. She said the doctor in Denver sent you home to rest.”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” Tessa took a deep breath. “The truth is, I’ve been working in oncology since I graduated from nursing school. I’m crispy.”
Grandma Rosetti’s brows rose.
“Burnt out. My therapist suggested an extended vacation.”
“Your mother says work is how you cope with death—your father, your fiancé, your patients. I think she is right.”
Tessa sidestepped the comment. “How long have you and Riley been chatting?”
“Since Sophia died.” Her grandmother tapped the paper in Tessa’s hands with a finger. “It is the curse. I feel it. Riley, the explosion...”
“Explain how Riley can be affected by the curse. I thought the curse only affected...” Tessa searched for the elusive definition that would describe a sixty-four year-old curse.
“The men who hold our hearts.”
Tessa stiffened and met her grandmother’s black eyes. “I am not in love with Riley.”
“It is destiny.”
“I don’t believe in destiny.”
“Belief is not required.” Carmen Rosetti’s eyes became glassy. There was a faraway expression on her face. “When I was a young girl, only sixteen, I met your grandpa. He was engaged to Angelina Muscatorelli. A horse, that one. Teeth out to here.” She gestured with a hand.
It wasn’t the first time Tessa had heard the story, but each time the tale was told, it was as vivid as the first time. Shivers danced down her arms.
“It was arranged. Famiglia.” Grandma Rosetti raised her chin proudly. “He came into my father’s bakery in Palermo with Angelina to order their wedding cake.” A smile parted her lips. “Ah, your grandpa. There was a man. It was amoré. He followed me to America.”
Tessa’s thoughts went to the photograph of her grandparents on their wedding day. Set in a dark oval frame, it hung above the fireplace.
Grandma Rosetti’s grip on her granddaughter’s hand tightened. “She cursed me, and all the offspring that might come from our marriage. The men we love. They die.” Grandma snapped her fingers. “Like that.”
Tessa’s eyes rounded.
“She. Did. This.” Bitterness punctuated each word like a sharp knife on a cutting board. “It is malocchio.”
The curse of the evil eye.
The curse that had haunted Tessa since before she was even born. Like a thief, it stole, taking everything—a grandfather, a father, and a fiancé. Tessa’s stomach clenched as she considered the explosion and Riley.
They sat in silence as the neighborhood woke up around them. A dog’s barking echoed down the block.
“I think you are still in love with him, Theresa.”
“You have to stop this, Nonna. That was a long time ago.”
“Not so very long.”
“Besides, a man like Riley is probably in a relationship.”
“In a relationship? What does that mean?” She snorted. “When a man is in love, he marries. He doesn’t get engaged four times.”
Tessa blinked. “He’s been engaged four times?”
“This time to a movie star.”
“A movie star?” Her voice squeaked.
“No matter.”
“A movie star?”
“Yes. But don’t you worry. Riley doesn’t know his mind or his heart. He never has. Sometimes you have to tell a man what’s what.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I definitely cannot go through that again.” Tessa gave an emphatic shake of her head.
“Bella. It is better to love well for a short time than never at all.”
Tessa winced at the mangled and depressing Tennyson quote. “You forget one thing, Nonna. Riley and I are only friends. I know you and Sophia had other ideas, but that isn’t how it turned out.”
“‘We shall see,’ said the blind man.”
The random comment was classic Carmen Rosetti. And it was definitely time to switch the subject. “What do you know about the biscotti factory?”
“Biscotti made in a factory.” Her grandmother’s hand sliced through the air in a gesture of disgust.
“Yes, but what do you know about Frank’s factory?”
“Bad blood. The younger brother, Angelo, he is a gambler.” Her dark eyes darted around the front yard before she lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. “They say Angelo knows people in the business.”
“What?” Tessa swallowed.
“You know. People in the business. Capice?”
Tessa nodded, anxiety mounting yet again. “I understand, but Nonna, are you sure?”
“I told you. I know things.”
“I’m concerned about Frank and Mom. Do you think we should call them?”
“The paper, it says only a storage building was destroyed.”
“Yes, and there were no employees on site. Thankfully, they only run the second shift around Christmas.”
“The police will notify Angelo?”
“I bet they already have. But I’m the only one with Mom and Frank’s contact information and itinerary,” Tessa said.
“No worries.” She winked. “I will find out what is going on. Until then we will not bother your mother and Frank on their honeymoon.”
“What do you mean you’re going to find out what’s going on? This isn’t our business.”
Grandma Rosetti continued, skillfully avoiding Tessa’s questions. “Riley was there? At the factory? This is how he was hurt?”
“Yes. He was there.”
“Then we must protect him and Frank from the curse.”
“No, Nonna. Please. Just let it go.” Weary, Tessa leaned against the older woman’s shoulder. She took her grandmother’s hand and stroked the soft, smooth, olive skin. “All I want is for Mom to be happy. She deserves that much. She’s been alone too long.”
“What about you, Theresa? Don’t you deserve to be happy?”
“I am happy.” Her stomach growled. “Starving to death, but happy.”
“Come. I fixed a nice brioche, and I’ve got a beautiful melon.”
Tessa yawned and stood. Grandma Rosetti tugged a silver chain that was around her neck. On the end of the chain, a solid silver charm in the shape of a horn dangled. The horn’s silver finish was dull from age.
She motioned for Tessa to bend down. Lifting it off her own neck, Grandma Rosetti slipped the chain on her granddaughter.
“What is this?”
“Cornicello. Wear it to protect yourself and the man you love.”
Tessa fingered the amulet, somewhat soothed already. “I thought this was for fertility.”
“That too.”
Tessa laughed. “Oh, Nonna, what am I going to do with you?” She yanked open the screen door. “Come on, I’ve got to get back to the hospital soon.”
“Not so soon. You eat a little. You sleep a little. That Riley, he’s not going anywhere.”
Yes, and that was exactly what concerned Tessa.
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The Christmas Angel (The McBride Series Book 1) Page 12