by Jo Leigh
“I take it you met her,” Tony said, his voice edged with anger.
Catherine nodded, but she still didn’t look at him. “She came home while I was there. She brought Mrs. Soriano with her.”
“What did she say to you, Catherine?”
“Nothing. Wanted to know if I’d be flipping the house. But then, everyone assumes I will.”
“That’s because everyone, including me, is an idiot. Damn it, there’s nothing I can do about those old witches. That whole generation feels that they know best about who has the right to live in Little Italy. As if they were the keepers of the keys. Just because their families have lived there a long time doesn’t give them any special power. We just have to wait it out. Deal with the fact that they’re difficult, and, frankly, mean. Jesus, my own mother and grandmother are hardly models of the kind of neighbors you deserve.”
Catherine was surprised. That he’d included his family meant a lot. They had been a little mean. But Tony had been upset enough for both of them, so she’d let it go. It shouldn’t have mattered that she understood Italian. People with generous hearts wouldn’t say those kinds of things in the first place.
That she didn’t figure the whole deal out before she went carrying her cakes to the neighbors stung. Badly. She was a reader of people. An expert. She’d dealt with oligarchs, madmen and heads of state. Her career was built on her ability to make other people understand the real meaning of things when words weren’t enough.
Why didn’t her gift work in the one place she needed it most? Tony continued to surprise her all the time. As for the old women, they were nothing unusual. There were people like them in every culture. What was wrong with her, that she’d been blindsided? That she let it hurt her so badly?
“Hey,” Tony said gently. “There are also a lot of people like Deanna. Like my brothers, like me, who see you for all you bring to this stupid neighborhood. You just happened to have the bad luck to be sandwiched between two of the worst offenders. Even Nonna doesn’t like them, and much as I love her, Nonna can be a bitch.”
That made Catherine laugh. And lightened up the atmosphere. A bit. Tony was still not happy.
“Don’t let them change your plans. You don’t have to make a decision tonight. See what Ben has to say, okay? He’s an expert at designing gardens that fit the owner’s personalities and needs.”
Tony uncovered the mortar tray and took up his trowel. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but you can still change your mind about the basement. It won’t have any effect on what we do with your stoop. You’ve seen a lot of those operations around, with the entrance to the first floor to one side, and the entrance to the store on the other. No one would bother you. And it couldn’t hurt as far as the rest of the community is concerned. It would add one more thing that you’d have in common with so many people who live and work here. Just, please don’t let it be a bakery. I’d end up huge.”
She smiled. He really was trying to make things okay with her. Which was very sweet. And yet she still heard the voice in the back of her mind that said perhaps he could have warned her? No, he had, in his own way, been very forthcoming about the gossip. And maybe the whole dinner with his family was his way of sending up red flags.
The thing was, he’d been so encouraging. Willing to help her. Making it fun to work by his side, working on the kind of projects she never would have on her own. Just Sunday morning he’d told her that she didn’t understand the neighborhood. In retrospect, something a bit more specific would’ve been helpful.
He was staring at her, waiting for a response, she supposed, except she didn’t know what to say. “Look, Catherine, I know it seems weird to you to rent out the basement, but around here—”
“I realize I haven’t said much about remodeling that floor, but there’s a reason I don’t want to rent out the space,” she said, pausing only to take a quick, fortifying breath. “I want children, hopefully in the not too distant future, and I’ll need more room for them. No one would want to rent there, only to have me kick them out in a couple of years.”
With that confession, something eased in her shoulders, at the exact same time her heart nearly beat out of her chest. Shock registered on Tony’s face. She waited for just a little smile. Even a blink. On the drive to Cape Cod he’d admitted he wanted children. That wasn’t at all the reason she’d told him. It was simply the truth, and it affected the work they were doing.
He kept staring without uttering a single word.
Terrific, she could finally read him.
She had to wonder what it was about her that made her desire for children so surprising. Probably because she was, after all, his temporary lover. Not a girlfriend, and maybe not someone he could foresee becoming his life partner.
She couldn’t rule out the possibility that Tony had struck up the intimate relationship with her only because he’d expected her to pack up and leave soon.
Oh, God, she didn’t want to believe that of him. And she didn’t. No, not Tony. And yet he was still completely dumbstruck.
“Did I just scare you to death?” she asked, hoping he would do something. Smile. Make a joke.
He opened his mouth, and from his expression, it didn’t appear he was thinking anything good. But the doorbell interrupted whatever it was. She took advantage of the moment, and hurried to let in the rooftop designer.
* * *
TONY STARED AT his computer monitor, finally admitting he’d have to do this budget another time. He hadn’t been able to concentrate since he’d left Catherine’s last night. He’d been relieved when the doorbell chimed, but as soon as the three of them had gone to the roof, he’d realized the timing couldn’t have been worse.
Catherine had no enthusiasm and she’d started the whole conversation by telling Ben she wanted to reduce the garden plans to the bare minimum. Even after Ben had shown her his drawings—geared to her original wishes—she’d been distant. Businesslike. As if they’d been discussing someone else’s project.
And what had Tony done? Nothing. He’d stood there, fuming about the damn neighbors, trying to figure out a way to make things right. And when he wasn’t cursing the old women, he was thinking about Catherine wanting kids. The way she’d said it so matter-of-factly, she could’ve been speaking to a coworker about her future. So it was pretty clear she’d meant after he was out of the picture.
God, how they’d needed to talk, but when the three of them had left the rooftop and gone downstairs, she’d said good-night. To both of them.
Once he and Ben were outside, he’d planned on calling her, but Ben asked him about another job, and by the time Tony was alone again, phone in hand, Catherine had turned off all the lights. The temptation to knock on the door was strong, but so were his doubts. Idiot. He shouldn’t have let anything stop him.
Luca interrupted his self-flagellation. “Hey, Tony.”
“Shut the door.”
His brother paused, eyebrows raised, but did as requested. “What’s up?”
“I know you’re swamped, but if I take over the Maloof project, would you be willing to take over the Fox job?”
Luca sat down across from Tony and immediately put his feet up on the coffee table between him and the desk. “As in Catherine Fox.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“What difference does it make?”
“I doubt that you meant to sound quite that defensive. Come on, Tony. I know you like her. What’s wrong? The job? The two of you?”
Tony leaned back in the big black chair. He hadn’t felt this lost since he’d realized he might lose his father. “The job’s fine. Sal’s been on top of everything. There’ve been remarkably few fuckups. Catherine met with Ben about the rooftop garden, and she’s got to make some decisions about what she wants. Also, Dave Rattigan has a lot of her ironwork done,
but he needs to make a trip down here to get some measurements.”
“He doesn’t trust you?”
“He’s careful. I appreciate that. He’s finished everything but the staircases.”
“Look, you can catch me up on the work whenever. But something’s bothering the hell out of you, and it’s clear that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have anything to do with the trust, does it?”
“Of course not. She doesn’t know about it. It’s not something I would talk about. Besides, that wouldn’t matter to her. She’s got money. Look, this is nuts. I’ll send you everything about the job and you can walk me through the Maloof—”
“For God’s sake, Tony. Stop. Talk to me. Do you want me to get out Dad’s bottle of whiskey?”
Tony blew out a breath as he considered. He was damned confused, so maybe Luca was right. He needed to talk to someone. “The neighbors are ruining everything.”
“Uh, we all knew that was going to happen.”
“No, you don’t get it. I had a chance, right at the start, to lay it out for her. I could have explained that some of her neighbors were going to try their best to run her off. That they weren’t just delusional, but determined. Christ, why did she have to pick that house?”
“So why didn’t you?” Luca asked, moving his feet to the floor so he could lean forward, his elbows on his knees.
“Why didn’t I what?”
“Lay it out for her. I mean, once you got to know her.”
Either Tony spilled it all or he stopped this conversation right now. He thought briefly about the whiskey, but then gave it up. He needed help. “I knew she’d eventually figure out that she’d be better off flipping the house. Even when she told me she wanted to live there forever, I kept my mouth shut. All she wants is to become part of a community. Unfortunately, a few people can ruin everything.”
“There are lots of folks who aren’t part of that gang of bullies. People we don’t even know that might end up as her best friends.”
“But living between those two—”
“Was bad luck, yes. But she seems like a strong person. Once she gets over the disappointment, I bet she’ll figure out a way to make it work. So why do you need to leave the job?”
And there it was. “Things between us got...personal.”
Luca tried to control a smile. “Yeah, I figured.”
Tony huffed. “So everyone knows about us?”
“No one knows. But they’re all assuming. You are over there a lot.”
Tony stood up. “Shit. I’ve really fumbled this.”
“It’s too late to stop talking now,” Luca said, in his typical, logical way. “What else?”
Tony walked over to the closed door. Locked it. Didn’t turn around. “I’ve fallen in love with her.”
“Okay.”
“She told me she wants kids. With some future guy. Who wasn’t an idiot for not telling her the complete truth when he had the opportunity.”
“She said that? About not wanting kids with you?”
“No. She didn’t have to.”
Luca sighed. “Come on. It was never going to be easy. Not like it was with Angie. Everyone just expected you to be with her.”
Tony turned around and he was pissed. “Exactly. Angie and I took the road of least resistance. But Catherine? I mean, she’s...great. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. She’s everything I didn’t know I needed. But—”
“She’s not one of us.”
“I can’t imagine Mom being very happy about the news.”
Luca shrugged. “She’ll be whatever. If you’re determined to live your life trying to be the perfect son, I don’t envy you.”
“What are talking about?”
“You’re not ever going to be Dad. Which is a good thing, by the way. And you’re not ever going to please Mom unless you marry another Angie. So? What do you want?”
“That’s right, you weren’t there that day in the office.” Tony smirked. “Mom said it could never have worked with Angie because she was too modern.”
Luca laughed. “Seriously?”
“So you can imagine what she’d say about Catherine.”
“You know what?” Luca said. “Tough shit.”
“Hey, that’s how I feel.” Tony shook his head. “This isn’t about me being the perfect son. I’m worried about Catherine and the crap she’d have to put up with. And I’m not talking about our family. I can handle Mom and Nonna.”
“That’s up to her to decide. Personally, I don’t think you’re worth it.” Luca shrugged. “But if you don’t ask, you’ll never know.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Tony ignored the playful jab, but Luca was right about asking. “I need to stop working with her. So we both can think.”
“Agreed.”
“And I’m not trying to be Dad. I haven’t shied away from making changes starting the day I took over.”
Luca stood and faced Tony head-on. “You’re doing a great job,” he said. “He’s proud of you. So is Ma. Take your time with your next move, okay? Be really careful with it. I know how upset you were that it didn’t work out with Angie, and you haven’t known Catherine for very long.”
“Catherine’s not like anyone else,” Tony said. “You know her parents are diplomats. She’s lived all over Europe. She’s worldly and sophisticated. I wear a tool belt. She never once suggested we should be anything more to each other.”
“So what you’re telling me,” Luca said, frowning, “is that it was all fun and games until you had to go fall in love, huh?”
“That’s about it.”
“There’s only one thing I am absolutely sure of, big brother,” Luca said, putting his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You deserve to be happy. Unconditionally.”
Tony closed his eyes. Even if Luca was right, there were no guarantees he’d find that happiness with Catherine.
18
AFTER THE LONGEST Thursday she could ever remember, Catherine left work an hour early, belatedly remembering the workers would still be in her house. She almost wished she hadn’t agreed to see Tony. He’d texted her earlier and asked if she’d have dinner with him at an uptown restaurant she’d mentioned two weeks ago.
Part of Sal’s crew was finishing up in the living room, but she didn’t stop to chat before she went upstairs. The first thing she did was kick off her heels, and the second was pour herself a glass of whiskey. She wouldn’t have too much now, since they’d have drinks later, but a few sips of Lagavulin would help her ease into the evening.
That he’d remembered she wanted to go to the Sea Fire Grill was nice, but it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t slept well, her concentration was shot, and to make matters worse, tomorrow she had to be at work early for a morning meeting. A damned important one for which she couldn’t afford to be anything less than at the top of her game.
Yet all she could think about was how quiet Tony had been on the rooftop. He hadn’t said a word when she’d told Ben she wanted only the most basic garden.
At first she figured he was still stunned by her admission about wanting children, but she’d been careful not to make it seem as though she expected him to be the father. He’d never given her the impression he wanted that kind of future with her, and even though she’d begun thinking of them that way—well, that was her own fault, wasn’t it?
That he’d asked her out was a good sign, though. They could go back to the way things had been before she’d met the neighbors, before she’d put the fear of kids into Tony.
Besides, she wasn’t going to let two angry women chase her away. Not from this house. If Belaflore had been here, she’d have given Catherine a hug, then given those two women a lesson in civility they’d never forget.
So, the hell with them. She loved her home, and Tony ha
dn’t been completely scared off, so if she could just get rid of this stupid headache, she was prepared to have a wonderful evening.
Taking her time, she changed, trading her dress for a pair of white linen slacks and a loose fitting charcoal shirt. Not for the first time, she wished she’d realized how inconvenient it would be to leave her master suite until after the kitchen was finished. She was so over being cramped into tight spaces. At least the couch was back in what would be her bedroom when all was said and done.
The drink was already loosening the tension in her shoulders. Tony wouldn’t be by until eight, and in the meantime, she wanted to relax. Even though she’d said she wanted only a small garden, she wasn’t done thinking that one through. After settling on the couch—her view, a wall decorated by a half dozen paint samples—she gathered up the drawings of the roof-garden plans and put them in order. Ben had been just as creative as she’d been led to believe. The plans were out of this world. He’d taken her through four different versions, from the full community garden/whirlpool tub/pergola/party space to something completely personal, and he’d made all of them look fantastic.
Damn it, she didn’t want to make any cuts. But she also wasn’t crazy about the idea of the neighbors having full access to the place.
She’d pictured gatherings with new friends and people from work, harvesting the gardens for the hors d’oeuvres. Now, though? It was too difficult to think about.
After finishing off her drink, she carefully placed the drawings in her tote bag and put on her sandals. She’d check on the progress downstairs, which at the very least would get her out of her own head.
She found two guys in the living room, sanding the newly installed hardwood floor. She’d met them both but didn’t think they’d been introduced by name. In the kitchen, Orlando, who was an expert at tile work, was installing the backsplash. He’d made a lot of headway with the glass and pressed tin. But even after he smiled at her, she found her excitement diminished.