by SUE FINEMAN
Taylor didn’t say anything else, but Alex was left with an uneasy feeling. Papa said he was meeting with his attorney today. Was he revising his will?
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Instead of going out to the farm on Monday, Charlie spent the day working on the house with the contractor, Pete Manderly. He had the full dumpster removed and another one delivered, so he could tear off the old roof. There were three layers of shingles on the roof, too many to add another layer. With the new addition in the back, the entire roof had to be redone anyway. He just hoped it didn’t rain before he got finished with the roofing.
Pete and his crew worked in the back, framing the new roof for the two bedrooms overlooking the backyard. Charlie tore off the roof over the front of the house and tossed the shingles toward the dumpster. Most of them missed.
By noon, the new roofing materials were delivered, and Charlie spread the tarpaper over the roof deck. Then he started on the shingles. Sounds of banging and men talking and laughing came from the back of the roof, and he knew they were making progress.
It felt good to know they were moving in the right direction. Pop’s house was on a quiet street, and most of the homes along here had been renovated and the landscaping redone. Mabel’s house was one of the shabbiest, but it didn’t look as bad as this house. But by the end of the summer, his house would be one of the best looking on the street.
Since he’d come home from Iraq, Charlie didn’t know where he belonged or what he should be doing with his life. He felt lost, adrift, without a goal. He knew then he had to get focused and find an occupation, but without a college degree, what could he do except grunt work? It wasn’t as if the Marines gave him any job training except in killing people, and he wasn’t very good at that. But he’d gone back to college after Andy bought the farm, and he had his degree now. If he’d go back and get his teaching certificate, he could teach in a school. Billy liked teaching, but Charlie wasn’t sure it was right for him.
Farming paid his bills and kept him solvent, and he did landscaping designs off and on. Then there was the city’s summer sports program for kids. He’d been helping with that for the past six years and loved working with the kids. If the city had a gym, the program could go year-round, but gyms cost money. Besides the land and the building, they’d have to supply equipment, provide staffing, buy insurance, and pay for ongoing upkeep. The city’s budget wouldn’t cover that kind of expense. Which meant he’d better keep farming.
At three-thirty, Alex pulled up across the street. Charlie leaned back and sighed. He’d been working on the roof all day, and he was beat. Alex leaned out the open window and waved. “Looks good,” she called.
After all this work, it had better look good.
Taylor waved from the backseat, and he waved back. Then he returned to work. He was almost to the ridge. When he got that far, he’d quit. His skin burned from the sun, and his knees ached. And tomorrow, he had to do the back half of the roof.
Pete called, “Hey, Charlie, how are you doing?”
“Almost done for the day.”
Pete walked over to see. “Anytime you want a job, let me know.”
Charlie laughed it off. He’d been working on family projects since he was a kid, doing carpentry work mostly, but Pete wouldn’t want to hire someone who worked another job at the same time, and Charlie wasn’t ready to give up farming. Or coaching. Not yet.
He finished up the front of the roof and climbed down the ladder. Then he walked across the street and looked up at the roof. Alex was right. It looked good.
It took him another half hour to clean up the shingles and old tar paper he’d torn off the roof and toss it into the dumpster. Then he called it a day and drove home.
Mom was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Charlie asked, “Where’s Taylor?”
“Alex took her shopping for something she needed for school. Looks like you got sunburned today.”
“Yeah, I forgot to put on sun block this morning.” He’d better remember tomorrow.
After a long, hot shower followed by a layer of skin cream, he walked downstairs. The kitchen smelled great, as always. Mom had made roast pork with red potatoes and green beans. An apple pie sat cooling on the island. “My mouth is watering already.”
Mom smiled and turned to Alex, who had come home while he was in the shower. “He’ll eat nearly everything.”
“Italian?” she asked.
Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “Can you cook Italian?”
“Of course.” She cocked her head. “Do you want me to fix an Italian meal?”
“Sure.”
Alex turned to Mom. “Is tomorrow night okay?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Ginny opened the back door. “Something smells good in here.”
“Then grab a plate and sit down,” said Mom.
Ginny glanced around. “Where’s Taylor?”
“In the living room with Wilma,” said Charlie. “Why? Is there something new on the case?”
Ginny nodded. “This afternoon, on advice from his attorney, Scott Higgins signed a plea bargain agreement. He confessed to avoid a trial and get a shorter sentence. And he implicated Mario Porcini. Since it’s his first offense, the prosecutor didn’t have any qualms about signing the agreement.”
“You mean I won’t have to testify?” said Alex. “Or Taylor?”
“Not against Scott Higgins, but if the prosecutor decides to charge him, you might have to testify against your brother. Are you willing to do that?”
Papa would never forgive her if she testified against family. “Maybe… I don’t know. I just want to put this behind me.”
“Scott said if you hadn’t kicked him, he wouldn’t have hit you.”
Alex shook her head. “He was ripping my clothes off, squeezing my…” She put her hands over her breasts. “And he threw me on the bed. What else was I supposed to do? I thought I could disable him and run for help, but all I did was hurt him and make him angry. That’s when he started hitting me. If I hadn’t fought back, the creep would have raped me.”
Charlie’s arm came around her shoulders in a gentle hug. “It’s over, Alex.”
Taylor ran into the kitchen with Wilma right behind her. Alex snagged her daughter’s arm. “Taylor, don’t run in the house,” she snapped.
“But Wilma was chasing me.”
“Listen to your mother,” said Charlie. “Now go wash up for dinner.”
Alex followed Taylor, and Charlie asked, “What’s with her?”
Ginny grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “She identified Scott Higgins in a lineup this afternoon.”
“Aw, shit! She’ll have nightmares again.”
“She’ll be all right,” said Mom. “She lived through the attack, and she’ll get through this.”
“I hope you’re right.” But he wasn’t too sure. Alex had been holding herself together pretty well, considering what she’d been through, but at some point, it could become too much for her to handle.
Over dinner, Charlie asked, “How was your day at work, Alex?”
“Interesting.” She talked about the problems at the warehouses.
Stabbing a bite of roast pork, Charlie asked, “Can you use one computer system for both warehouses?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know that much about computers.”
“You need an expert to advise you,” said Donovan.
“Yes, we do.”
Hannah passed the rolls around the table. “Understanding what’s needed is the first step. You’ll figure it out.”
Alex sighed. “I suppose. The businesses were thriving before my brothers took over.”
Donovan cocked his head. “So, is Vinnie going to let you run the business now?”
“He offered and I declined. I’ll help him get things straightened out, but I have no desire to have my brothers breathing down my neck again. And they would if I took over. I think Papa plans to sell the cannery and food distribution divisions and close the trucking division.�
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Charlie looked up. “Close it?”
She nodded. “It’s too far gone to save. But that’s not for public knowledge. We haven’t told the employees yet.”
“They won’t hear it from us,” said Donovan.
Charlie gazed at Alex and wondered if their relationship was too far gone to save.
Chapter Twelve
After they put Taylor to bed that night, Charlie walked up to the attic with Alex. He sat on the sofa and flipped on the television. Alex sat beside him, and they talked about Taylor, about her business problems, and about the brick bungalow Charlie was renovating.
Alex wondered if he’d kiss her again tonight. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, then nuzzled into her neck and kissed her there.
“Mmm, you smell good,” he murmured.
“So do you.” He smelled like the soap in the shower, the strawberry shampoo she’d used this morning, and virile man.
He sighed deeply. “I’m so damn tired I could fall asleep right here. Would you put me to bed and kiss me goodnight?”
She kissed him gently on the lips. “Goodnight, Charlie. Close your eyes and sleep.”
Charlie’s eyes drifted closed, and Alex took the TV remote from his hand. She turned off the television and eased him down on the sofa, with a pillow under his head. Covering him with a blanket from the bedroom, she kissed him gently on the lips and let him sleep.
They wouldn’t make love tonight, but then he wouldn’t touch her that way in his parents’ home. Charlie had too much respect for his father to make love to a Porcini in his house.
If she moved back home with Taylor, would Papa let Charlie move in with them? Would he let them make love in his home? “No,” she whispered to herself. Papa loved her and wanted the best for her, and he’d already decided Charlie wasn’t good enough. He was a Kane.
She gazed at Charlie’s sleeping face and knew without a doubt that he was the only man she’d ever want. He may not be good enough by Papa’s standards, but her heart said he was as perfect as a man could be. Charlie was a little like Donovan, but he was definitely his own man.
He was warming to her, forgiving her in tiny little steps. One of these days, they’d make love. And she couldn’t wait. Her body tingled every time he touched her, and she longed to get naked with him somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed. Somewhere Charlie wouldn’t feel self-conscious because his parents were in the house.
Alex wandered downstairs to check on Taylor, then went into the kitchen and looked through Hannah’s cabinets, trying to see what herbs and spices she could find and what she’d need to buy for her Italian dinner. She wouldn’t make anything too fancy, maybe chicken scaloppini, pasta with vegetables, and salad with homemade dressing. Aunt Gina would have a stroke if she knew Alex planned to buy pre-made cannoli instead of making them herself. The filling was easy enough to make, but she didn’t have the aluminum forms to cook the cannoli, and she didn’t especially want to do all that extra work.
She made a grocery list and figured in her mind how much time she’d need to make everything.
Hannah’s kitchen was the heart of the house, the place where the family talked and laughed together, where they talked over problems and advised each other. This was how a family was supposed to work, not the uncomfortable formal atmosphere Mother had always insisted upon, where Taylor was nervous about spilling something and making Grandmother angry.
Thank God for Aunt Gina. She’d make sure Papa ate well. She’d take better care of him than Mother had the past few years.
“Find what you need?” Hannah asked.
“Yes and no. I’ll shop tomorrow.” Alex turned to Hannah. “Charlie is asleep on the sofa upstairs. He was wiped out from—”
“I know. He worked hard today. Charlie works hard, plays hard, and sleeps hard.”
Alex smiled. “I know.”
“Andy is going to help him tomorrow.”
Alex cocked her head. “I thought Andy had a job.”
“He does, but he works for himself, and when he can, he makes himself available for family projects like Charlie’s house. The boys have always been close, especially Charlie and Andy. Billy is ten years older.”
Alex envied Charlie and his family. Her brothers wouldn’t cross the street to help her with anything.
She said goodnight to Hannah and went upstairs. Charlie was sprawled on the sofa, sleeping with abandon, as always. She kissed his forehead, turned out the lights, and went to bed. Alone, as usual.
With Scott in custody, she could start looking for an apartment. Days ago, she was on the verge of hunting for a job, but she couldn’t get a job in the television business. Not now. She’d help Papa get the business straightened around and then look for something else to do with her life. Charlie didn’t want her, and he’d undoubtedly want to share custody of Taylor, but she could deal with that.
She’d have to deal with that.
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After breakfast, Charlie smeared his face and neck with sun block. He’d worn a long-sleeved shirt to keep the sun off his arms and back. If he didn’t, his skin would blister and he’d be in agony.
Andy met him at the house. “Could you use a helper today, bro?”
“Sure could.” Because of the new addition, the back of the roof would take more time than the front, and they were in for rain tonight. He needed to get the roof finished before the clouds rolled in.
They tore the old roof off, rolled on the new tarpaper, and started nailing on shingles. On a break, Andy asked, “Is Alex still at the house?”
“Yeah, she’s still there.”
“Didn’t they catch the guy who attacked her?”
“Yeah.”
Andy gave him a sideways look. “You don’t want her to leave, do you?”
“No. Mom loves her, but Dad doesn’t want her there.” Charlie felt his lips pull into a smile. “She’s cooking Italian tonight.”
“And you didn’t invite me and Julie?”
“Nope! More for me that way.”
The brothers talked and laughed for a few minutes, then went back to work. By the time they worked their way up toward the ridge, the sky had darkened.
“Storm moving in,” said Andy.
“We’re almost done.”
“If there’s lightning in those clouds, we are done.”
The men worked faster and had the roof nearly finished with they heard the first rumble of thunder. Charlie counted seconds and determined the lightning was only three or four miles away. Too damn close to stay on the roof.
“Got a tarp?” Andy asked.
“No, but the tarpaper should keep the attic dry. I’ll finish tomorrow.”
Minutes later, Andy ran out to his car in the pouring rain, waved once, and drove away. Charlie stood on the front porch, watching the light show around him, praying the roof wouldn’t leak tonight. Another hour and they would have been finished.
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Lightning spiked the sky and shook the house. Taylor huddled under the kitchen table with Wilma when Alex started dinner. Donovan and Charlie would be home soon, and Charlie always came home hungry.
Hannah set the table. “What else can I do to help?”
“Have you ever stuffed cannoli?”
“No, but I can learn.”
Alex showed her what to do, and Hannah filled the cylindrical pastry shells.
“My aunt would have a stroke if she knew I bought the cannoli shells already made. She makes everything from scratch, including bread and sauces. She’s an amazing cook.”
“What about your mother? Does she cook?”
“Not if she doesn’t have to. Mother avoids the kitchen whenever possible.”
“I love to cook, and my family loves to eat, especially Charlie.”
Alex smiled. “I noticed. You wouldn’t believe the amount of food Aunt Gina prepares for family dinners. I know we have a big family, but she goes way beyond what anyone expects of her, and everything is so good
, we all eat too much. She’s the one who taught me to cook.”
The women worked quietly for a few minutes, then Hannah said, “Alex, would you like to invite some of your family to have dinner with us one night?”
Alex dropped the spatula. “Are you serious?”
“You live here now, and I want you to feel comfortable inviting your family here.”
Shaking her head, Alex said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Donovan wouldn’t like it, and my family wouldn’t feel welcome.”
“You mean your father wouldn’t feel welcome?”
“He’s the head of the family, and everyone is afraid to go against his wishes.”
Hannah nodded. “I understand.”
The water for the pasta and vegetables came to a boil as Donovan came through the door. Charlie was right behind him. “Dinner in ten minutes,” Alex told them.
“Make it fifteen,” said Charlie. “I need a quick shower.”
“Twelve minutes,” she countered, and he raced up the stairs.
She mixed the salad dressing and put it aside, then stirred the pasta into the boiling water and added a spoonful of olive oil to the pot.
By the time Charlie came downstairs, hair dripping, they were putting dinner on the table. Alex pulled the bread from the oven and sliced it while Hannah put the dressing on the salad. Then they sat down at the table to eat.
“Smells good,” said Charlie.
“Sure does,” Donovan added. “I’ve always liked Italian food.”
Alex had a feeling this family would be happy with any food as long as it came from Hannah’s kitchen.
Thinking she’d made enough for leftovers, Alex was surprised when all the food disappeared. Donovan ate two helpings of everything and so did Charlie. Hannah seemed to savor every bite. Then Alex served the cannoli.
Donovan ate one, then pushed his plate back. “I don’t have room for another bite. Alex, that was a fantastic meal.”
“Sure was.” Charlie reached for another cannoli. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Only Italian. My aunt taught me, and she only cooks Italian.”
“If you can cook Italian this well, you can cook anything,” said Hannah. “All you need is a good cookbook.”