by Mary Campisi
“I’ve come to say what needs said, and I hope you’ll listen.” Mimi sipped her raspberry ice tea, glanced at the flowers in Gina’s back yard. The girl had a way with her perennials and a gift of turning them into beautiful pictures by pressing them and creating unique designs. Word had it she was teaching Lily Desantro the art of it, was even helping the girl make Christmas gifts, though you’d never know from Gina. The girl didn’t spread stories or puff herself up with tales of how she helped this person or that one like her cousin Natalie did, even though that girl never helped anyone but herself. Gina did what needed doing and kept quiet, unless someone ticked her off. Then watch out.
“Did someone send you to talk to me?”
Mimi slid her a look. “You mean Ben?” She smiled and shook her head. “Heavens, no. I’m sure he wouldn’t like it if he knew I was here.” Her voice faded, turned soft with memories and regret. “I’ve known you since you were a little girl, watched that family of yours treat you like you were never good enough, until you believed it. You carried that on your shoulders for too many years. That’s why you were always alone, except for Tess and Bree, and no man.” She waved a hand at Gina. “It wasn’t about your looks or your weight. It was about you never thinking you were good enough. And then, in walked a fine male specimen named Ben Reed. You two were pushing and pulling like magnetic forces the first time I saw you together at Tess and Cash’s wedding. Ben didn’t know about your history, but I think he felt the loneliness in you, the same one he had inside himself. You were good together.” She paused, settled her gaze on the pinkish-gray sky. “You could still be good together.”
“He lied to me.” The words tumbled out, coated in misery and pain. “And now I can’t trust him.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” Gina made a sound that could have been a yes if not for the sniffs smothering it. Encouraged, Mimi pushed on, “While Ben’s reason for being here wasn’t the truth, his feelings for you were honest and sincere. I think he found himself in a predicament of his own making and didn’t know how to get out of it, especially because he didn’t want to risk losing you. That boy never expected to meet someone like you, and I’m sure he never expected to fall in love. But he did. Now it’s up to you. If you can picture him sharing a life with another woman, maybe even his name and a child or two—” she paused, gentled her voice “—and of course, his bed, and it doesn’t bother you, then let him go. You’ll still share a child, but nothing else, and the sooner you cut him loose, the better. However, if the thought of him touching someone else, loving her and saying the words he once said to you, drives you absolutely crazy with jealousy and desperation, then go to him as fast as you can and tell him.”
Gina set down her glass and looked at Mimi, her voice a mix of confusion and wonder. “I love him, with my whole heart, so much it hurts.”
Mimi nodded and hid a smile. “Then go to him. I’ll clean up here, don’t you worry.” When Gina’s car pulled out of the driveway, Mimi sat back, sipped her tea, and smiled. “There’s going to be a wedding in Magdalena, and mark my words, it’ll be soon.”
Chapter 15
Gina knocked on the door of Ben’s room at the Heart Sent. She’d practiced her speech on the drive over and if she didn’t get it out the second he opened the door, she might not be able to do it. Fear would claim her. Or nerves. Or—
“Gina?”
She looked up and there he was, handsome, strong, guarded. Say the words, say them now. “I…I…”
“Yes?”
She opened her mouth and blurted out, “I love you, Ben Reed, so much I can hardly breathe. I’m sorry I hurt you, I love you, and I want a life with you and the baby.” And yet again, in case he hadn’t heard. “I love you.” He didn’t say anything. Not one word. His expression turned darker, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he watched her. Had he changed his mind in the last hour since he’d visited her? “Ben? Say something.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I do.”
The brackets around his mouth eased. “And you aren’t going to change your mind if you wake up tomorrow and decide I don’t deserve you?”
“If I do, that would be hormones speaking, so be forewarned.”
His lips twitched, the tension on his face relaxed. “Noted.”
Gina took a step closer. “You’re really happy about the baby?”
“Yes.” He pulled her into the room, closed the door, and planted a soft kiss on her mouth. “I’m really happy about the baby.”
“I’ll gain weight.”
He started unbuttoning her shirt. “No doubt.”
“And ask you to make midnight runs for things like avocados and cream cheese?”
His hand stilled and he stared at her. “Avocados and cream cheese? What happened to pickles and ice cream?”
She shrugged and clasped her hands around his neck. “Too ordinary. Baby Reed is not going to be ordinary.”
“He’s not, huh?”
“No, she’s not.”
Ben eased her shirt from her jeans and kissed the flesh that peeked out of the top of her bra. “I’ve missed you so damn much. Too much.” He unclasped her bra, buried his face between her breasts, and whispered, “I love you.”
“Show me,” she murmured. “With your hands, and your mouth, and your—Oh!” He carried her to the bed, laid down beside her, planting kisses on her bare skin as he removed her clothing.
“Show you?” He slid her panties off, stroked his hand along her thigh until her breath hitched and she sighed. “I will take great pleasure showing you—” he yanked off his jeans and boxers, entered her with one deep thrust “— as many times and as many ways as you desire.”
“Oh, Ben…” Gina moaned as he moved inside her, creating exquisite pulses of sensation and need, capturing her body, her heart, her soul. “Oh, Ben!” And then the free fall began and didn’t stop until Ben joined her.
After, as they lay spent and exhausted, he placed a hand on her belly and said, “Marry me. Make me the happiest man in the world.”
“Yes.” She touched his cheek, traced his lips with her fingers. “Absolutely yes.”
“As soon as possible.”
She liked the sound of that. “Or sooner,” she added.
“And I want Lily Desantro in the wedding.”
“Lily?”
His smile covered her, filled her with delicious heat and promise. “She’s the one who called me and in a roundabout way, told me you were pregnant. We owe us to Lily Desantro.”
Twenty-six days later, the Magdalena Press printed the following article:
It was a perfect fall day for the union of Benjamin John Reed and Gina Rosa Servetti. The ceremony, officiated by Mimi Pendergrass, Magdalena’s very own mayor and the proprietor of the Heart Sent, took place in the backyard gardens of the bed and breakfast. The couple was surrounded by friends, family, and clusters of lilies, cosmos, roses, hydrangeas, and the bride’s favorite, hibiscus. The Heart Sent held special significance as it was here that Mr. Reed stayed when he first arrived in Magdalena, where he formed a friendship with Mimi Pendergrass, and later, where he proposed to his future bride.
The bride wore a tea-length fuchsia dress with tiny eyelets, a fuchsia ribbon in her hair, and a matching diamond bracelet and earrings—a wedding gift from the groom. The maid of honor, Ms. Lily Desantro, wore a green chiffon dress with a wide belt and carried a bouquet of lilies. Other bridesmaids included Tess Casherdon, Bree Kinkaid, and Christine Desantro, in matching chiffon dresses in the following fall colors; rust, brown, and orange, respectively. Ella Blue and Lindsey Kinkaid were flower girls.
The groom wore a black suit with a red rose on his lapel. Cash Casherdon served as the best man, also in a black suit, sporting a white rose on his lapel. Catering services were provided by Jeremy Dean Ross and included his signature lasagna, chicken piccata, rice pilaf, green bean almandine, salad, and homemade bread. Carrot cupcakes were served in lieu of a wedding cake.
; The new Mrs. Reed is a physical therapist at Magdalena General Hospital, and Mr. Reed is a sergeant with the Magdalena Police Department. Following a honeymoon trip to Chicago, the couple will make their home in Magdalena.
Note: The couple’s wedding night was spent in the honeymoon suite of the Heart Sent, where, as everyone knows, the bed is strewn with rose petals. The petals on Mr. and Mrs. Reed’s bed held special significance: they were harvested from the bride’s very own backyard!
If you see the new couple about town, make sure to extend them a warm welcome. Ben Reed might be new to Magdalena, but the town has embraced him as one of our own.
The following were comments made by friends and relatives at the wedding:
“We always knew our girl was special, and now she’s found that special someone to brighten her days and warm her nights. We’re proud to play a part in making her who she is today.” Carmen and Marie Servetti
“Ben and Gina—forever. No more sad colors for Gina!” Lily Desantro
“Gina’s a great girl and Ben Reed’s lucky to have her. If he forgets, I’ll remind him.” Nate Desantro
“I’m gifting Gina a bag of Blue Jordan Almonds and from her wedding night on, she’ll never smell a rose petal again and not think of that night.” Bree Kinkaid
“I’m already working on a welcome home dinner.” Jeremy Ross Dean
“The heart is a wondrous thing, filled with love and the capacity to forgive. May Ben and Gina enjoy many years together.” Mimi Pendergrass
“Keep talking, no matter what.” Pop Benito
“Forever and ever. And even after that.” Tess Casherdon
Epilogue
Nate opened the screen door and stepped into his mother’s kitchen. He’d promised to stop over and move Lily’s bed and dresser. According to Lily, Lizzie had her bed next to a window and she could look at the moon and the stars before she went to bed—like Harry did. The damn man had given them some song and dance about how he used to stare at the stars and make up characters that lived there. Nate suggested the glow-in-the-dark stars that stuck to the ceiling, easier and less rearranging, but Lily had frowned and insisted she wanted the real thing. Damn Harry and his stories. They were probably a bunch of BS; you never knew with Harry.
The man was occupied with his latest venture, opening a Harry’s Folly in Magdalena. Said he even found a chef, Rudy Dean’s kid, Jeremy, the policeman-turned-chef who catered Gina and Ben’s wedding. Okay, so maybe Harry had a chef, but he had a long way to go before he could open his doors and start serving that damn penne pasta with spinach and garbanzos he went on and on about. Nate bet Harry had the building inspector’s phone number on speed dial. Why anybody would want to buy that piece of crap on the edge of town and try to turn it into something other than a pile of rubble was beyond Nate. But Harry saw potential, said Greta did, too, and with enough vision and cash, Nate supposed it could work out. Or not.
The whole town would be watching Harry to see if he could spin some magic into the old building, and more, if he could do it by his promised Christmas deadline. Nobody had the heart to tell him the sad story behind that place, not even Nate or his mother. He sighed; Harry would find out soon enough.
“Ma?” He headed toward the stove and the pot simmering on top. Vegetable beef soup, one of Christine’s favorites. He bet his mother planned to give him a container to take home. “Ma?” Nate passed the tray of chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven, snatched two, popped one in his mouth. His eye caught the fancy envelope on the edge of the table, addressed to his mother with a return address of San Diego, California. He leaned closer. Anthony Benito. Why the heck would Pop’s son be contacting her?
“There you are, Nate. I thought I heard you come in. I started moving a few of Lily’s things.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and smiled. “I see you’ve found the cookies, and I’ll send some soup home with you.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I found the letter from Anthony Benito, too.” He paused. “What’s he want?”
When his mother looked away, he knew that meant she didn’t want to discuss whatever he’d asked. She used to do that a lot when the subject of Charles Blacksworth came up, to the point Nate stopped asking, and that’s when the real animosity started. That was long in the past, but he still remembered the behaviors that had caused him such grief.
“Ma? What’s going on?”
She poured a glass of water, took a sip. “Anthony asked me to keep an eye on his father and let him know if there were any problems.”
“Problems? Like what? Eating too many pizzelles? Walking four miles a day? Playing matchmaker for the whole town?” He could go on, but his mother got the point.
“He thinks someone’s been in his house, stealing those blasted pizzelles. He’s become obsessed with it.” She paused, said in a quiet voice, “I told Anthony his father should have a neurological exam.”
“For what? Alzheimer’s?”
She shrugged. “That or maybe dementia. I don’t know; what I do know is he’s been ranting about someone stealing his pizzelles and that’s not normal.”
Nate hated to ask, but he had to. “You don’t think Lily’s been helping herself to a few extra ones, do you?” The girl was almost as obsessed with them as Pop, but his sister wasn’t a thief.
“I asked her, but I knew she didn’t do it. If Lily wanted more, she’d pester him until he gave in, and with Pop, he and Lily are so tight, she’d never have to pester. He’d just hand them over.”
“So, what’s Mr. Hollywood plan to do? Swoop Pop to California and stick him in a home?” She shrugged but didn’t answer. The idea of Pop in California with a son he’d only seen twice in ten years didn’t sit well with Nate. “What’s this guy know about Pop? Blood doesn’t make a family; you should know that.”
“I do know that, Nathan.”
“This town’s his family. We’re the ones who were here for him when his wife died, not Anthony, who flew in with his glamour wife for what, forty-eight hours? They wouldn’t even let their daughter take time off from school to attend her grandmother’s funeral. Who does that?”
“I don’t know. Anthony said it was finals week.”
Was she serious? “Ma, listen to yourself. You sound like one of them, more interested in statistics and placement scores than people. Pop almost died out there the last time he went. We’re not letting him get in that situation again.”
She met his gaze, her eyes bright, face pink with emotion. “But what if he does have the beginning signs of Alzheimer’s or dementia? What then? We have to keep him safe.”
Nate leaned against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest. “If I thought you had those same issues, would you want me to whisk you away, no choice, nothing?”
“Of course not, but his son has a right to know.”
“Right. The son who’s been back to Magdalena twice since he left twenty-some years ago.”
She looked away. “He may have had his reasons.”
“I’m sure. Don’t they all? Starting and ending with dollar signs and ego.”
“Nathan.” She heaved a sigh. “Do you have to be so critical?”
“Some call that being honest.” Why was his mother so jumpy about this? It wasn’t like her to side with the likes of Pop’s son. She was more of a champion for the underdog. Did she know something he didn’t? “So, what’s the plan?”
There was a long pause before she met his gaze and said, “Anthony’s coming to Magdalena for Christmas, and he’s taking Pop back home with him.”
***
Nobody stole from Pop Benito, and if they thought they’d get away with it, they could think again. Pop rested the BB gun on his right knee. In his day, he could hit a tomato paste can at one hundred feet. Actually, he’d loaded up his rifle until Lucy made him promise to quit. That’s when he’d pulled out the old BB gun, loaded it, too.
“They ain’t going to get us, Lucy. I’ll catch the thief a
nd press charges, I can promise you that; I swear on our basil plants.”
Stealing pizzelles from Pop was a declaration of war and everybody who knew him knew that. It was a pizzelle that got him his first date with Lucinda Vermici, and it was a pizzelle that had a part in making their son, Anthony, and later, it became the solace for the news of the cancer.
Dang it if anybody would dishonor his Lucy by stealing his pizzelles. He’d sat up a good part of the night, making a list of all the possible suspects and around 3:00 a.m., he’d narrowed the list to six, five kids and one adult. The adult was Joe Pescatori, because he’d always had an eye for Lucy, even though the man never stood a nickel of a chance. But Pop wouldn’t count the old geezer out, even with a double-knee replacement and a pacemaker.
This afternoon, Pop ate two pizzelles with the lemonade Lily brought him this morning. There’d been nine left in the box. Now there were three. He kept an extra two dozen in the cupboard behind the cereal, and the thief should count himself lucky he didn’t go for the mother lode because despite his promise to Lucy, Pop would have pulled out his rifle.
“Don’t you worry, Lucy, I’ll catch the bugger that stole from us.” He dozed off in the living room chair, gun resting on his lap, flashlight on the table beside him. He slept until the car next door with the bad muffler pulled out of the drive. That would be Chet Carlson on his way to the box factory fifteen miles away. The guy could afford a six-pack of beer a night but not a new muffler.
Pop grumbled and thought about heading to the bathroom before he took up his post again when he heard a shuffling noise in the kitchen. He clutched the gun against his thighs and reached for the flashlight. Seconds later, more shuffling. Definitely in the kitchen. Dang, but the culprit was into his pizzelles! He eased out of the chair and moved toward the kitchen, gun in one hand, unlit flashlight in the other. There was a reason he’d never let Lucy move the furniture, and here it was—moving in the dark, quiet, steady, not stumbling over a misplaced end table.