A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9

by Campisi, Mary

  “Advice?” Natalie’s dark eyes grew wide, her brows pulled together, and the lips that had done a whole lot more than kiss a few men flattened. “About what?”

  In her whole life, Bree never thought she’d feel sorry for Natalie Servetti, but she did. There was real pain on the woman’s face and sick-in-your-gut dread. “I’m sorry; forget I asked.”

  “What is it, Bree?”

  How did a person bleach the feeling from their voice like that? Did it happen from years of practice, or from learning not to care? Either way, it was a sad state and Natalie did not deserve to be subjected to reminders of a past she clearly wanted to forget. “Never mind. Truly.” Bree worked up a smile, patted Natalie’s hand, and said, “How about that pedicure?”

  Natalie didn’t push her for more but went about with the soaking, drying, massaging, clipping, and pampering, first one foot and then the other. She sure knew how to work that pumice stone, and how on earth did she get at those cuticles? Bree had never been good at any of it. Everyone had a special skill, and she guessed Natalie’s was primping and pampering. Maybe that’s why she always looked model-beautiful and smelled like a walking flower garden. Bree touched a lock of hair, wondered how she could make hers as shiny as Natalie’s. The woman might have toned down the makeup and the check-out-my-boobs-and-butt routine, but she still oozed sex and sultry, and Bree wanted a tiny bit of that. “Can you fix my hair?” she blurted out before common sense stopped her. “Give it a trim and make it shine like yours?” She leaned forward, whispered, “And how do you get your eyeliner to look so natural? I can’t make a straight line for anything. Can you show me?”

  Natalie’s blush matched her shirt. “I don’t think you want advice from me. Besides, you’re beautiful, Bree, just the way you are.”

  Bree shook her head. That was not what she wanted to hear, and now that she’d said the words, she intended to get it all out. “But that’s just it. I don’t want to be just the way I am. I want to be something else, or maybe I want to be someone else.” Her voice drifted as she considered what she’d said. Did she really want to be someone else? Someone who didn’t need a white-picket-fence relationship to be happy? Didn’t need love and marriage to have sex with a man? Yes, her private parts shouted. Yes! But her brain and her dang conscience shouted louder, No! And then, Do not do it!

  “We all want to be someone else at one time or another.” Natalie kept her gaze on Bree’s left foot as she tended to it. “But the truth is, we can’t be. We are who we are, and all we can do is work to be a better version of us, not someone else.” When her hands stilled, she looked at Bree, eyes bright. “I’d give anything to be you, a strong woman in charge of a whole company, and three beautiful girls, plus parents who really care about you.” Pause, a dip of her voice, and a whispered, “Who love you for you, not for what you look like or can give them. Don’t ever change, Bree.”

  Who would have thought in a thousand years that Natalie would envy her, Bree Kinkaid, mother, widow of a loser-cheating husband, daughter of two overprotective, advice-giving parents, former Miss Everything, current Mrs. Nothing? Bree darted a glance at the stylists several feet away, lowered her voice, and said, “I don’t want to go on like I’ve been, all sad and lonely, burying myself in work and the girls. It’s not healthy and I know it.”

  Natalie pinned her with those dark eyes. “Changing your hairstyle is not going to change who you are.”

  “But it could make me feel better about myself, right?” She eyed Natalie, waited for her to nod before she said what she really wanted to say. “And you’ve got a way with making yourself look sexy without even trying. The hair, the makeup, even your walk. Dang, how do you do it?” Natalie’s face switched to paste, her breath coming out in fast, little puffs like she was going to faint any second. The woman looked pure miserable and her next words said that’s exactly what she was.

  “Please don’t say that. I have tried so hard to clean up my behavior. I’ve stopped wearing the low tops and tight jeans. Given away the stilettos and toned down the makeup.” Natalie clutched Bree’s arm. “I’m doing everything I know how to do to wash away the sex aura that follows me.” She sniffed, swiped at her cheeks. “I don’t know what else to do, but I’m trying. I’m really trying.”

  “Then consider helping me your good deed for the month.” Bree held up a hand when Natalie started to protest. “What’s wrong with a new haircut and a lesson in makeup application? That’s part of the salon services, isn’t it?” She waited for the nod and then continued. “We’ll get through the hair and makeup, and don’t forget the eyeliner either, because I want my eyes to look like whatever you’ve done with yours.” Bree settled back in the cushy chair, wiggled her toes. “Okay, let’s finish up this pedicure so I can get back to work.”

  “Bree?”

  “Huh?” Oh, this was going to be fun, kind of like the junior high days of playing with hair and makeup—only she’d been doing that with Tess. Not Gina, because that girl hadn’t worn more than clear lip gloss until she came back from her first semester at college.

  “So, just to be clear, you want a haircut and a few makeup lessons.” She hesitated a second before she went on. “That’s all, right?”

  Why was Natalie looking at her like she knew there was more and the “more” was something she wasn’t going to like? “Well…” Bree fidgeted with her bracelet, tried for a smile. “Kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  The stiffness in Natalie’s voice said not happy or did it say hurt? Bree couldn’t tell, but she meant no harm. She had questions and Natalie Servetti had the answers, lots of them, and Bree bet they were good ones. “I’m interested in a man…”

  “Ah.”

  Bree licked her lips. Darn, this was harder than she thought. “He’s not from around here.”

  “I see.”

  “We’re actually working together right now.” She let out a laugh that sounded like a scared chicken. “He’s from Chicago.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  This was going nowhere. How much information was Bree supposed to provide before she spat out the real question? How do you sleep with a man and not get involved? That’s what she wanted to know. Sex for the sake of sex, no happily-ever-after, no till-death-do-us-part or one- and-only. Just sex. Laughs. A good time. Wine. More sex. The chemistry was there; why not enjoy the moment? She liked Adam’s company and he liked hers. And there was no question he made her insides thrum when she looked at him. All she needed were a few pointers and who better to point than the Queen of Sex and Sultry? “So, I was wondering…”

  “You want to have sex with him, don’t you?”

  Bree nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, have sex with him.”

  “How? I mean, do I have to set up ground rules or something? You know, let him know this isn’t going anywhere past—” she swallowed, stumbled over the rest of her words “—not going anywhere past the bedroom.”

  Natalie frowned, lifted a shoulder. “You don’t need to give him a playbook. He’ll know.” The sadness in her next words made Bree almost wish she hadn’t asked. “The men I knew wouldn’t have come to me if they thought I wanted more than a hook-up. Silly me, I thought if the sex were good, it would lead to more.” Her voice dipped, wobbled. “Like a relationship.”

  Poor Natalie. Bree clasped her hand, squeezed. “I am so sorry to stir up bad memories. That was truly selfish of me. I just didn’t know who else to ask…” Lordy, had she really just said that? “I mean, I knew you would know. No, that’s not what I meant.” Bree shook her head, darted a glance at Natalie.

  “Bree, it’s fine. We both know why you came to me. I’ll help you if you want, but remember what I told you. We are who we are, and you don’t need to change a thing. One of the girls can trim your hair and I’ll give you a makeup lesson, but not to seduce a guy because you don’t need any help with that.” A smile peeked around the corners of her mouth. “But you’re a relationship kind of girl, not a hook-u
p and go, so make sure you’re prepared for that. Great sex is not going to fill the emptiness of not being with somebody you care about.” A hint of color swirled up her neck to her cheeks. “And having that person care about you.”

  “You’re talking about your guy, aren’t you?” Bree asked, curious as to what kind of man would make Natalie Servetti blush like that. “Robert, is it?”

  The blush deepened and her voice grew smoother than the finish on a MacGregor cabinet. “Yes. Robert.”

  “I’m real happy for you. Do you think he’s the one? Wedding bells and all that?” Wow, Natalie getting married? That was as bizarre as Bree finding out Brody had a mistress. Bizarre but not impossible.

  “I hope so.”

  Why did the words leak out like she meant them but didn’t believe them? Was the man playing her? No person, man or woman, deserved that. Maybe Bree could help. “Do you want to tell me about him? Maybe I could give you a few pointers on how to get him to pop the question.” The look Natalie gave her was pure shock.

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure.” Bree bet Natalie didn’t have many female friends, but who was supposed to be friends with her when she might have slept with a good chunk of the town: husbands, fathers, brothers, sons? It could get dang complicated and awful stinky if the truth spilled out. An extra-second look or a hesitation in the speech and a person might detect a past relationship that was a whole lot more than mere acquaintance. No wonder Natalie kept to herself these days, dreaming about a wedding ring that might not come. No man should take advantage of a woman trying to do right, and Bree was not going to sit back and let Robert play house with Natalie unless he intended to buy the real estate, as in marriage. That’s what Natalie wanted more than anything, and who was Bree to tell her happily-ever-after only existed in rewritten memories and fairytales? “How about if I tell you how to get a man to pop the question and you tell me how to enjoy the man without the relationship. Deal?”

  9

  When a man like Mr. West Coast hit town, it didn’t take long before the speculation started. What’s he doing here? Where’s he staying? How long is he staying? And then, the sneakier ones, laced with just the right amount of nonchalance, Is he with anyone? But they didn’t mean was he with anyone in a room or a meeting hall; they meant was he with anyone, as in a relationship. Wife? Girlfriend? Almost girlfriend? They clung to the answer, dissected it for missed interpretation and possibility. Men and women speculated, but none harder or with greater interest than Pop Benito, who believed there was someone for everyone and it was his duty with the time he had left on this earth to match the someones and the everyones.

  His latest consideration was Adam Brandon. Pop called him Mr. West Coast, not because he lived in California, though word had it he had lived there a few years back. Nope, Pop had tacked that name on him because the man reminded him of the California skies Pop had seen when he’d visited Anthony a few years back. Bright and sunny, with the tan to go with it. He sure was a handsome young man, tall, lean, blond, a real looker with dimples and gray eyes. He’d run into him at Lina’s Café the other day, caught him and Bree Kinkaid sharing a table and lunch. Hmm. Wonder if they might be sharing something else, too, or if they weren’t, how much longer it might take before they were. Bree was a widow with a boulder of hurt on her shoulders and a face that said “been done wrong,” but Pop didn’t miss the laughter that sneaked out of those lips when Mr. West Coast’s smile spilled over her like warm syrup and those dimples were the cherry on top. Yup, something was definitely brewing between those two and if it hadn’t been stirred up yet, it might just need a bit of help, the kind that was Pop’s specialty. As long as Mr. West Coast didn’t plan on taking those good looks and Bree and the girls with him when he left town.

  Maybe the young buck would stick around, call Magdalena his home. Stranger things had happened. Look at Ben Reed. Never thought that boy would settle in a place he’d called backwards and hillbilly, but love changed a person, made him better, made his heart bigger, and that’s what had happened to Ben. Now, it seemed he’d forgotten he’d ever been a city boy. Strange indeed. Pop chuckled and made his way to the cupboard where he removed the flour and sugar. If he didn’t dilly-dally, he could finish a batch of pizzelles before dinner and deliver them to Mimi’s place tomorrow. Maybe right around the time Mr. West Coast was getting back to the Heart Sent from work. What better way to assess the man than a straight-up meet with Mimi Pendergrass at his side? Mimi could analyze a person and a situation before he finished his first glass of hibiscus tea.

  Pop laid the spatula on the counter, fished around for the measuring cups and spoons. When it came time for the flavoring, he hesitated. Would the man favor anise or vanilla? Mimi said he was a lawyer, mergers and acquisitions, traveled all over before he moved to Chicago to work with Roman Ventori. Hmm. Something told him a man like that would choose anise. If that were true, Pop would give him bonus points for staying true to the pizzelle. He thought about other goodies a man like that might enjoy as he mixed the pizzelle batter.

  Pop had finished his thirteenth pizzelle when the front door opened, followed by a “Grandpa? I’m home.”

  “In the kitchen. Did you get the salami and provolone?”

  Lucy stepped into the kitchen, plopped two bags of groceries on the counter. “Ten slices of provolone and five slices of salami, just like you asked.” She pecked him on the cheek, snatched a pizzelle. “Extra thin slices on the salami.”

  “That’s my girl. What time did you say Tess was bringing Teresina back?” That was another story altogether, one Pop didn’t like to dwell on too long. Tess Casherdon wanted a baby so bad she’d offered to babysit the young ones in town, and most had taken her up on it, some because they wanted the break, but others because they couldn’t stand to see the sorry look in the woman’s eyes. Ramona said Tess and Cash were talking about adoption, but it was more Cash doing the talking and Tess begging him to wait one more month, most likely thinking it might be her magic time, but it never was. A couple could only stand so much disappointment and heartbreak before they started to fall apart. Somebody had to talk to Tess soon, help her realize she might never birth a baby but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a mother. Sad day when a man had to watch his wife fall apart at the sight of a baby, and sadder still when the wife was surrounded by babies, no matter where she looked.

  “Tess wanted to take her to Mr. and Mrs. Carrick’s seeing as they don’t have any grandkids of their own. Oops.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide like she’d been caught cursing in church. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Pop shrugged, removed another pizzelle. “Nothing for you to feel sorry about. It’s a dang shame and the whole town is wishing Tess would get pregnant, but it’s not looking good. Still, birthing a baby doesn’t make a parent. There’re lots of kids who need a home.” He dropped a spoonful of batter in the middle of the pizzelle iron, closed the lid. “But they better get a move on before all that’s left are regrets over what they didn’t do.”

  “Yeah.” Lucy snuck another pizzelle, nibbled. “I’m so glad I have Teresina. She’s such a joy.”

  Pop gave her the eye, pointed his spoon at her. “Just don’t go getting any ideas about increasing that ‘joy’ until you get yourself a husband.”

  “Grandpa!” She sighed and said, “I’m not looking for a husband.”

  “Good, then you won’t be looking for another baby, either, will you?”

  “No, but I wasn’t ‘looking’ for a baby when I got pregnant with Teresina either.”

  “This is not child’s play, Lucy. You got a responsibility to that baby you gave birth to, and you got a responsibility not to bring another into this world until you have a plan.” This time he shook the spoon at her. “And that means a husband and a place of your own.” Some days he thought she was really growing up. She’d finished her degree, gotten her father to cosign a loan for the bakery, and took care of Teresina with no compl
aints. But other days, like the ones he’d witnessed since this Jax character came to town, downright unsettled him. What if Lucy fell for more empty promises or live-in-the-moment baloney that left her pregnant? Again? That would cause a pain in his heart that might do him in if the worry didn’t get him first.

  “I know, Grandpa. Geez, it’s not like I’m an idiot.”

  She huffed and pulled a jar of peanut butter and cherry jelly from one of the grocery bags. Lily was coming over this weekend and Pop had promised to make her his special grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—her favorite. “Never said you were, but what I did say without saying the word was use some of that God-given common sense you were blessed with. There’re choices and then there’re consequences. When you walked into this town with a belly the size of a football, people took to you right away. They treated you kindly, didn’t judge or speak an ill word about you.” His voice cracked, but he pushed on. “They tried to help.” He cleared his throat twice, but the dang words stuck like flypaper. “They even gave you a shower. Those people didn’t know you, Lucy. They might have seen you a time or three, but what they knew about you they learned from me and your grandma. Didn’t matter; they accepted you because of us.” He removed his glasses, swiped a hand over his eyes, put them back on. “You could say we vouched for you. Now if you go and get pregnant again to some boy who may or may not be your boyfriend, then what? Should they rush in and help you again?”

  Her face turned redder than a tomato sitting in the sun. “No,” she said, her voice puny and weak. “You’re making me feel horrible.”

  “I’m making you think about your choices. This isn’t just about you; it’s about Teresina, me, your grandmother, this town. People believe in you, Lucy. I believe in you, so does your father or he wouldn’t have agreed to cosign a loan for you. Maybe we all made it too easy on you, but it’s time to stand strong and tall and be responsible for your choices.” He cut her a look, preparing for the zinger. “And being responsible doesn’t mean running off with some smooth talker with a name that ain’t really a name.”