Corsica Gate

by Robena Grant

  “Angie, be nice.” Susan picked up the baseball cap and put one hand on top of Angie’s head.

  “I had an awful headache.” Dia leaned down to look into Angie’s eyes. “I thought I might be sick. I didn’t want to give a bug to anyone, so I went home to sleep.”

  Angie sucked on her lower lip and looked thoughtful. “Did you fwow up?”

  “No, I just had a headache. But I’m feeling much better today.” When she straightened she saw Susan’s questioning glance and the way her eyes flickered from her brother back to her.

  “Why did Uncle Carlo have to go, too? Did he get a bug?”

  “No,” Carlo said. “I drove Dia home.”

  “Oh.” Angie let go of Carlo’s leg. “We’re going to lunch. Fwench fwies!” She started up the beach, struggling against the soft sand.

  Dia caught what looked like an apology in Susan’s eyes, but she smiled to reassure her. “Are you eating at the deli?”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Angie said, looking around.

  Carlo smiled. “So are we.” He looked over at her, and raised his eyebrows.

  Dia nodded. “Why don’t we eat together? It’ll be fun.” Carlo put an arm around her shoulder.

  “Are you sure?” Susan asked. “We don’t want to…you know…cramp your style—”

  “I’m hungwie.” Angie ran back and yanked on Carlo’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  Dia laughed, and so did Carlo. They weren’t quite ready for lunch, but it was all good. It pleased her to be included in this family event. They’d have time to talk about the trip and their relationship later.

  ****

  “You’re going to Italy?” Susan asked Dia. “That is awesome. I’m green with envy.”

  “You are?” Carlo paused with his sandwich halfway to his open mouth. “I didn’t know you wanted to travel.” His sister’s eyes sparkled. He hadn’t seen her excited about anything in a long, long time. And it wasn’t even her trip.

  Susan laughed. “Who doesn’t? It’s Italy, for heaven’s sake.” She flushed a little, and took a sip of water. “I mean it’s every girl’s dream. Under the Tuscan Sun…Letters to Juliet.” She sighed. “Vineyards. I love those films—”

  “Oh, me too,” Dia said. “Those two…and French Kiss, even though it isn’t Italian…three of the best movies ever.”

  “I totally agree.”

  “Aren’t they romantic comedies?” Carlo asked.

  The two women raised their brows and laughed.

  “Love stories,” Susan said. “You’d probably hate them.”

  He frowned, took another bite of the sandwich. Maybe not. I could surprise you both.

  Susan picked at her salad, lifted a cherry tomato to her mouth, and chewed slowly. A faraway, dreamy-eyed look smoked her brown eyes.

  Carlo felt a lump in his throat. He sipped his coffee. Hell, Dia had been right, and she hadn’t known Susan for more than a week. How come he hadn’t noticed what his sister needed? He’d promised David he would always look out for Susan, and for their then-unborn child. Angie counted her French fries and lined them up on the plate. He’d continued to look out for them in one respect, but he’d totally missed out in another, forgotten that his sister had needs, and wants, and desires. He wondered if their parents knew any of the things Susan held so closely to her chest.

  He’d do anything for her happiness. Money was no object. If she wanted a trip, he’d take care of Angie. He looked at Dia, just as she raised her eyes to his.

  She smiled at Susan. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “What?” Susan’s eyes went wide.

  Ah, hell. Dia had done it again. She’d become good at reading his thoughts. So how come she hadn’t figured out how deeply he wanted her in his life? Or had she?

  “Would your parents be able to look after Angie?” Dia turned to Carlo. “I know your father dotes on her.”

  “Yeah, Dad loves Angie,” Carlo said.

  “Mom would be in seventh heaven.” Susan clasped her hands.

  Carlo laughed when he saw the surprise register on Dia’s face. “Believe it or not, my mother loves being a grandmother.”

  “I don’t know…it’s awfully expensive.” Susan grimaced. “And—”

  “I’ve got tons of airline miles,” Carlo said. “It would be my treat.” What the hell was he saying? Slow down. Think this through.

  “And you could share my room…I’ll just change the booking to two beds,” Dia said, leaning forward, her face glowing. “It would be no cost to you for accommodation.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that. Could I?” Susan started to laugh and covered her mouth with both hands.

  “Angie’s going to Ganpa’s.” Angie stuffed three ketchup-soaked french fries into her mouth.

  Susan took a paper napkin, wiped her daughter’s mouth, and tucked a fresh one at her chin. She looked at Carlo, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, pleading at the same time.

  “Sounds like it’s all been worked out.” He nonchalantly raised his coffee mug.

  A trip to Europe…the two of them together…what would his folks think of this? He could help out for sure. But was it a good idea? His mother had looked at Dia like she barely existed. At the wedding, she’d brushed off his comment about how gorgeous Dia looked with a flip of her hand and a snide comment about her being “just another peasant girl from Little Italy.” How would she react to her only daughter going off with her on an adventure to a foreign country?

  Dammit. He’d stand up to his mother like he should have done years ago. Susan would go. He’d make certain of that. The two women were chattering so fast and laughing so hard, he couldn’t keep up with their conversation. He tried to focus on the plans but kept worrying what this all meant. What if they didn’t get along? What if they came home hating each other?

  He supposed, in a way, they did have some stuff in common. They’d both lost the man of their dreams, although, if he believed what Dia said last night, she wasn’t heartbroken. Susan had been devastated. He supposed she’d begun to recover from the loss of David, going on with her life, her work, and raising their child. She might even want to remarry. That brought his head up sharp. He stared at the two of them.

  “What?” Dia asked. “Are we talking too fast?”

  Carlo nodded.

  “I’m sure my parents will agree.” Susan gazed in awe at Dia. “And Carlo is great with Angie. He’ll help out. Won’t you?” She grabbed his hand in a strong grip. “Please?”

  “Of course. What about your work?” he asked.

  Susan stopped grinning. “Rats. I’m part time. I couldn’t go for two whole weeks. They rely on me.”

  She looked so downcast Carlo’s heart went into spasm, or he thought it did, though it could be the coffee irritating his stomach. He’d had two refills. He rubbed at his stomach region, then picked up his water glass and took a few gulps.

  “What about meeting me over there for one week. Could you manage that?” Dia asked. “I’ve had a change of plans and need to rearrange some things with my travel agent anyway. I’d intended going to Naples, but now I’m focusing on Rome, maybe a side trip to Florence, Corsica, and back to Rome—”

  “Corsica?” Carlo frowned. “That seems an odd choice.”

  Dia smiled, but he’d seen a flicker of something. Wariness? Was she meeting someone there? What the hell could be on Corsica, other than another man? The green-eyed monster wreaked havoc with his stomach.

  “I’d enjoy that even more than Rome, because I’ve been there before, but never to Sardinia or Corsica.” Susan eyes danced with pleasure.

  Dia raised her coffee mug. “Good, think it over for a minute or two.”

  “If you’re open to it, I could meet you in Rome a week from Tuesday.” She looked at Carlo. “I know the folks will love having Angie all to themselves, but I should call them first, and ask.”

  “Want my phone?” He handed across his cell phone and sat back against the seat. This should be fun. He could imagine
the shrieks coming from his mother.

  Dia patted his thigh. “It will be so good for her,” she whispered. “And it will be fun for me to have company.”

  Company? Hell, if she’d said that earlier, he would have gone on the trip. He hadn’t had a vacation in ages. He couldn’t say anything now. It would look like he didn’t trust Dia with Susan’s wellbeing. Besides, they hadn’t known each other long enough for him to make a suggestion like that. Anyway, he’d already told his sister he’d be happy to help out with Angie. So, in fact, he was well and truly screwed.

  Susan laughed. He heard her thanking one of their parents. She shut off the cell phone, and handed it back to him.

  “So?” he asked.

  “So, I’m going.” She clasped her hands, and then blinked hard. “Dad thinks it’s marvelous. Mom wasn’t home. I can’t believe it. I feel like Cinderella going to the ball.”

  Dia laughed.

  “I like Cindawella,” Angie said. “She’s on my lunch box, isn’t she, Mommy?”

  “Yes, she is, darling. And she’s very pretty.” Susan smoothed back Angie’s curly hair. “Now finish your lunch, and we’ll go see Grandma and Grandpa.”

  Angie clapped her hands. “All done.”

  Carlo looked at his sister. Cinderella? Had she really felt like that…downtrodden, a young woman living in unfortunate circumstances? And now that would all change by this remarkable good fortune. His heart ached for her, for the loneliness she must have endured, and for his own stupidity and lack of understanding.

  “Are you okay?” Susan asked, and her eyes bored into his.

  “Acid indigestion.” He rubbed his stomach again.

  She dug in her purse. “Here.” She shook out a couple of antacid tablets. “Chew these. You’re so bad with that coffee. How many refills—”

  “Three.” Dia laughed.

  She massaged his shoulder. It felt good. He tried to think of something, anything so they’d both stop looking at him, and maybe cotton to more than stomach distress. He chewed, and frowned. “Didn’t you once tell me that nobody knows who originally wrote Cinderella?”

  “Yes. The oldest recorded story dates back to first century B.C. in ancient Greece.”

  “I always think of the author as the Brothers Grimm,” Dia said.

  “I know.” Susan gave a mock shudder. “It was a gruesome story, cleaned up a bit by a French author, Charles Perrault, in the late sixteen hundreds, then later recorded in English, I think in 1812. The Brothers Grimm had their version.” She frowned and thought that over. “I could be wrong on that date.”

  “If you say it’s that date, then I’ll bet you’re right.” Carlo smiled at Dia. “She has an amazing memory. She loved history and English in school. I hated both.”

  “Yeah, but you loved mathematics.” Susan rolled her eyes. “I have trouble balancing a check book.”

  “Oh, me too,” Dia said.

  “Boy, we sure can digress,” Susan said, and glanced at her watch. “I need to take Angie to the restroom, then we’ll get going. So, back to the subject of the trip, Dad wants to know if you’ll come over this afternoon, Carlo. He wants to discuss it when Mom gets back.”

  “Sure,” Carlo said.

  “Oh, he said you should come too, Dia.”

  “That’s up to Carlo. I have time, but—”

  Dia turned her questioning gaze to him. Damn. Now he’d have even less time alone with her. Would his mother belittle her? Would she make a scene? He’d have to warn Dia on the drive over. “Yeah, sure, might as well finish up here, then go straight to the house.”

  “Good idea. We’ll follow you.” Susan dug in her purse. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Knock it off, sis. I got it.”

  Susan gave her head a shake. “Italian men.’ She laughed. “They never let you pay for anything. Thank you, big brother.” She stretched out a hand to Angie. “Okay, pumpkin, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Carlo watched them walk toward the restrooms, happy his sister wore a huge grin on her face. Dia took hold of his hand. She rubbed her thumb around his palm in small circles.

  “You’re so quiet. Did I do wrong?” she asked. “It was such a spontaneous thing, the idea came to me. Before I even took a second thought, I’d already spoken it.”

  He pressed his lips tight and jutted them out. He shook his head.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  He polished off the rest of his water, took out his wallet, and slapped a credit card onto the tray without checking the bill. He indicated for the waitress to take it. “Family…” He shrugged, answering her continued questioning look. “I’m sulking.” He laughed then. “I wanted to spend time with you. We planned on talking, and—”

  The waitress took the credit card.

  “We’ve got all night,” Dia said. She gave him a cheeky grin and wriggled her brows. “If you play your cards right, you’ll be making me breakfast.”

  She wouldn’t tease and be that cruel, would she? Carlo thought his heart might leap out of his chest and gallop around the table. He gulped. Took her hand and raised it to his mouth. “I’m an excellent cook,” he said. “I can’t wait to please you.”

  Dia laughed. The waitress returned with the receipt and his card. Dia wants to spend the night with me? Damn. His heart pounded; his hands turned clammy. His fingers slipped on the pen when he scrawled his name on the receipt. Susan and Angie came back. He realized he’d paid the bill in a daze. They could have charged five hundred dollars, and he wouldn’t have known. He’d already put the receipt into his wallet, and the wallet into his pocket. His mouth felt parched. He grabbed Susan’s half-empty glass of water and took a slug. “Let’s go.”

  “Can I drive?” Dia asked.

  He handed over his keys. One less thing he’d have to think about. Susan shot him an amused look of wonder. Okay, so Dia was the first person he’d ever let drive his car. Big deal.

  Chapter Ten

  The BMW handled beautifully. It was so quiet. What a difference compared to her old clunker. Dia pulled up in the driveway of the Antonelli’s home. Within seconds, his parents stood at the front door waiting for them. Susan parked beside Carlo’s car. It took her a minute to get Angie out of the car seat, and then the little imp ran to her grandfather. He lifted her onto his shoulders.

  “I’m so excited, Mom. Thanks so much for agreeing to the trip.” Susan followed her father inside the house.

  “Come on in.” Mrs. Antonelli’s voice was frosty as she opened the door wide.

  Dia had seen her surprised expression when she’d climbed out of the driver’s seat. Now the woman ignored her and grabbed Carlo’s elbow.

  “I’m not too sure of this idea,” she said, her voice low. “Or if it’s exactly what Susan needs.”

  Dia followed, keeping a foot or two behind them. Carlo hadn’t said too much during the drive, but he had warned her about his mother. An only child, she had grown up in a wealthy family, married beneath her parent’s status, much to their embarrassment. Her mother had never forgiven her. However, on her father’s death, he’d left her a small fortune. Carlo had said the money had gone to his mother’s head, and she had set about reestablishing herself within the San Diego social set.

  Dia glanced at Carlo. He stood beside his mother, whispering. From the pinched expression on Mrs. Antonelli’s face, Carlo had given her a warning to back off.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to Italy,” Susan said. “Come on, Dia. Let’s go into the den.” She plopped onto the couch, clasping her hands and grinning from ear to ear.

  “And the timing couldn’t be more perfect,” Mr. Antonelli said, as he ushered everyone into the room. Mrs. Antonelli followed.

  “Your bridge group is on hiatus, Christina. So is your book club. Other than golf, which of course we can play when Angie is in school, we have no commitments.” Mr. Antonelli beamed at everyone.

  “Well, it’s just…it’s wonderful.” Mrs. Antonelli sank deep into an armchair.


  Dia thought the woman might burst into tears. Her facial muscles seemed to be doing all kinds of contortions in order to maintain control.

  Susan jumped up, walked over, and rubbed her mom’s shoulders. “Can I get you anything? A cup of tea?”

  “No, no thanks. What about everyone?”

  “We just had lunch,” Carlo said. “We’re all good.”

  Mrs. Antonelli looked shell-shocked. What the hell had Carlo said to her? Dia glanced up at him and he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her tight for a second.

  “Please, sit, Dia, make yourself at home,” Mrs. Antonelli said. “Now, tell me everything, Susan. I got the gist of it from your father.”

  Angie played a board game with her grandpa. Carlo and Susan sat on the couch opposite their mother. Carlo patted the space beside him. Dia sat, feeling the heat from his naked knee as the three of them scrunched close together. Susan leaned forward, her hands clasped between her thighs, her face shining. While she explained the trip, when she’d leave, where they’d go, Dia zoned out.

  Carlo rubbed her knee, his attention on the conversation between his mother and sister. Dia thought of the suggestive offer she’d made to him earlier. He’d been such a good sport about Susan, and that had endeared him to her even more than before. If he’d just put his nasty mother in her place, well, more power to him.

  She’d initially intended on telling him that they were friends, that she was attracted to him, but a bit confused. She’d intended to explain she didn’t want to advance the relationship yet, but if he wanted to see her when she got back home then they could take things from there. All so clinical, orderly, and grown up. Then she’d blown it by making the suggestion of staying the night. She looked at him and smiled.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “I’m listening.” And for a while she did. Mr. Antonelli raised his head from the board game and told his wife everything he knew about Corsica. All information Dia had researched online, or learned from Frank. Every time the name Corsica came up, Carlo tensed beside her.

  She patted his knee. “Is there something wrong about Corsica? You seem to tense when it’s mentioned.”