Childhood Dream

by Theresa Paolo

  Silence spread between them, and he knew he should give her more time, but he couldn’t. “So are we going to talk about last night?”

  “Geez Tony, come on. I already told you it was a m—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Why not? Maybe if you let me say it, you’ll actually believe it.” Her voice was hushed and clipped.

  “I don’t believe in make believe, and right now that’s exactly where you’re living if you think what we did last night was a mistake.”

  She let out an aggravated breath and crossed her arms over her chest. Their gazes crashed. If she wanted to be stubborn then he was going to hold his own as well. He just wanted her to stop lying to herself. What they shared wasn’t a mistake.

  “What if I wasn’t me?” he asked.

  “What does that even mean?”

  “What if I wasn’t Tony Moretti? If my last name was different, and I wasn’t your best friend’s younger brother?” He purposely avoided the use of baby. She was scared, throwing excuses at him, but if he could get her to see beyond the excuses, maybe he had a chance.

  Her eyes softened, and she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  That wasn’t a no. He could work with that. He reached across the table for her hand, wanting to feel her skin against his, but she snatched it away.

  “Tony, last night was…”

  He flashed her a look. If she said mistake, he might scream.

  “Was nice.”

  “Nice? It was a hell of a lot better than nice.”

  “Fine, it was amazing. Okay? But good sex doesn’t mean anything. Let’s just leave it at what it was. Good sex between two people who drank a little too much and were lonely.”

  So she was lonely…

  Reid, Willow Cove’s local sheriff, and Marco’s good friend, approached them. Tony held his hand up. “Reid, not now. We’re in the middle of something.”

  Krissy shot daggers at him, but Tony ignored the not-so-subtle disapproval, though he felt the heat of her gaze.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I just got a call from the station. Krissy, you should come with me.”

  Chapter 3

  Krissy’s heart hammered her rib cage, and she stood up. “What is it?” she asked, pressing her hand against her chest, if anything, to keep her heart from slamming through and falling on the floor. “Are my parents okay?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have worried you like that. They’re fine. It’s the ice cream shop. It appears to have been vandalized.”

  She adjusted her glasses and peered at Reid as if seeing better would change his words. “Vandalized?” she repeated. Who the hell would vandalize Scoops?

  The ice cream shop was iconic in their small town. Heck, it was iconic throughout the state. It was why she had recently submitted for it to be declared a historical landmark. It was built in the early forties when car travel was on the rise and businesses did what they could to be recognized from the street. It was why the building was shaped like a giant ice cream cone. Today, it was a huge destination for social media addicted teens who wanted to add something fun to their feeds.

  Krissy loved that place more than she loved some people. It was a part of her family, her upbringing, and she had promised her aunt she would uphold the legacy. Declaring the building a landmark would cement that legacy and it would be guaranteed to be around for many generations to come and enjoy. To think someone willingly damaged the building hurt her heart and soul.

  “Let me just say my goodbyes.” Krissy made her way to Marco and Aubrey and gave them both hugs before giving Ella and Cami a quick rundown of what happened.

  “We’ll come,” Ella said.

  “No, stay and enjoy the rest of the brunch. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  Ella nodded and gave her another hug. “You better.”

  “Promise.”

  Krissy met Reid at the door and followed him to his truck. She got in the front seat as the back door opened. She turned, only to be staring into the dark brown eyes she’d lost herself in last night.

  “Tony, what are you doing?”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  She narrowed her gaze. He was going to let their little secret out to the world if he didn’t stop being so clingy. “You don’t need to come. Reid is the sheriff; he can handle the situation.”

  “Think of it as emotional support.”

  She went to argue, and he held his hand up. “I’m not getting out, so either we argue for the foreseeable future, delaying you getting to your shop, or you accept that I’m coming and we can get on our way.”

  Krissy rolled her eyes and flopped in her seat. “When the hell did you get so annoying?”

  Without words, his laugh answered the question.

  Reid pulled out onto the street, and Krissy watched as the familiar businesses and houses passed by.

  “How bad is it?” she asked as they got closer. She needed to prepare herself and not go in blind.

  “From the report I received, damage to the exterior with red paint and a broken window.”

  “The place is closed for another few weeks, so there’s no money for them to take,” Tony said. “Anyone local would know that.”

  Reid nodded. “Exactly my thoughts. Either it was a bored kid or an out-of-towner. With the paint, I’m going with bored kid, but I won’t know for sure until I evaluate the scene.”

  A bored kid? Scoops was a kid loving business. Every kid who grew up in Willow Cove, or visited, spent their summer nights getting ice cream at her shop. She knew all the locals by name, and she always made a point to speak with all the customers when she was on the premises.

  Like Reid, Krissy would wait until she could take a look around, but she didn’t think a bored kid was the culprit.

  A few minutes later they pulled up to the ice cream shaped building. Bright red paint splattered the entire lower half that made up the cone as if someone just walked by with a can of paint and tossed it. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and an uncomfortable lump formed in her throat.

  This wasn’t just a building, this was her childhood, everything that she was and planned to be. This wasn’t only her family’s legacy but also her hard work and determination to keep the business afloat the first couple of years after she inherited a stack of debt and outdated equipment.

  “Krissy!” Nathanial, one of her scoopers who would be going off to college after this summer—full ride to Fordham, she was so proud—called her name. She approached him with a smile and bent down to pet the overexcited white fluff ball he was trying to control. “I was out walking Trixie when I saw the building and I didn’t know what to do, so I called the police to make a report. They told me they’d get in contact with you.”

  She gave Trixie a pat on the head and stood. “Thank you, Nathanial. You did the right thing.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” he asked.

  “That’s what I keep asking myself.”

  “Do you have cameras?” Reid asked, glancing around the building.

  “I do.” She pointed up toward the two cameras she had installed a couple of years ago.

  “They look like they might be spray painted over, but we’ll run the tapes. Maybe we’ll catch something.”

  “I’ll go get them.” Krissy turned to Nathanial. “Thank you again for calling this in.”

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Nathanial said. “Even someone to try and scrub the paint off.”

  “I will. Now get Trixie home before she wears a hole through the ground.”

  Nathanial patted his leg, and Trixie was more than happy to run full speed ahead of him. Krissy turned back to survey the damage a little closer.

  “Miss Turner can we get a quote!” a familiar feminine voice called out from behind her.

  Krissy glanced toward the woman who rushed at her impressively on five-inch heels, a microphone in her hand and a face made up of high-quality makeup. A man with a gut that hung over his pants, thinning dark hair a
nd ruddy cheeks, held a large camera on his shoulder and tried to keep up.

  “Hi,” the brunette said with a perfect smile and white teeth. “Allison Winters WC Local News.”

  That’s how Krissy knew the voice. The woman was the local TV reporter. Krissy watched her every morning before starting her day.

  “Hi,” Krissy said.

  Allison shoved the microphone in Krissy’s face. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  Krissy stuttered, trying to find the words, any words really, but her mind was blank.

  “Oh, for fuck sakes!” Reid’s voice echoed through the day. “Allison, get the hell out of here.”

  “Now Officer, you know I can’t use that language on air.”

  “Good. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shut the camera off. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “That’s very mature of you, Officer.”

  “Sheriff,” he corrected her. Reid had recently been voted into the position after the old sheriff retired, though she was sure Allison knew that.

  Reid swung a finger to Krissy. “This woman just found out her business was vandalized not even an hour ago. Can you give her a minute to process before you’re shoving a microphone in her face?”

  “As a reporter, it is my job to bring the people of Willow Cove the news, especially breaking news of vandals in the area.”

  “Everything for a story, right?” Reid spat, moving closer to Allison. “And fuck the feelings of the people actually going through it.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” They squared off, neither one blinking or moving. Krissy was about to say something when Reid threw his arm up and pointed toward the parking lot. “Get the hell out here, Allison, and leave this poor woman alone.” Allison stood tall in her heels, refusing to back down, and Reid sighed. “I’ll call the station later with the details when we actually have something worth reporting.”

  Satisfaction brightened Allison’s face. “I look forward to your call, Officer.”

  “Sheriff!” he yelled after her. He rolled his eyes and stormed away, mumbling incomprehensible words under his breath.

  “My work here is done,” Allison announced before spinning on her heel toward Krissy. “I’m really sorry about this. I am. Unlike what Sheriff Reid thinks, I actually do care a lot about this town and the people.”

  The sincerity in her whiskey-colored eyes made Krissy believe her. “I know.”

  A smile tilted Allison’s lip, and she walked away, waving to her camera guy. “Come on, Larry. There’s a pothole on Cedar Drive that is causing an uproar.” With that, Allison Winters and Larry headed out.

  Krissy focused on her beloved ice cream shop, her eyes lingering on the awful red paint. She stepped closer, running a finger along the paint. The paint didn’t stick to her finger, but it was still tacky. It hadn’t been done recently, but it hadn’t been done too long ago either. Sometime during the night or it would have been reported earlier.

  “Krissy, what the hell happened?”

  Krissy spun to see Victor jogging toward her. His silver pickup truck parked across three spaces. Victor was her little cousin in that she was a year older than him, but there was nothing little about him. He was six-foot-three, two hundred and fifty pounds, and would have made it to the NFL as a linebacker if he hadn’t torn his ACL in college. They’d been close from the minute he was born, spending holidays and summer vacations together all through their childhood.

  “We don’t know yet,” she said as he came to a stop in front of her. The familiar face of her cousin caused her strength to waver. She lifted on tiptoes, and he still needed to crouch down so she could hug him. His big arms wrapped around her, and she let him take away some of the weight from her shoulders.

  “I’ll kick their ass when you find out,” he said as he pulled back.

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll let the law deal with whoever it is.”

  “The invitation stands,” he said. “Are you okay? I was on my way to help your dad mount his new TV in the living room, but I can stay here if you need me.”

  “No, go. There’s really nothing that can be done right now.”

  “I’m around if you need anything, cuz. Just let me know, okay?”

  “Thanks, Victor. Oh and do me a favor. Tell my dad everything is fine.” She didn’t need him worrying unnecessarily or getting involved. He’d work himself into a tizzy. She’d rather deal with this mess on her own.

  “You got it.” Victor got in his truck and pulled out of the parking lot. Krissy turned her attention back to the disaster that was her building. “Maybe I can scrub it,” she said to herself.

  A comforting hand rested on her shoulder and squeezed. “Scrubbing won’t take that off,” Tony said. For a moment, she had forgotten that he’d jumped in the car to tagalong.

  She glanced at the paint then at him. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “Yup, it’ll have to be completely repainted. Between the kind of paint they used and how porous the building is, it would be impossible to try and clean it.”

  “Great. I did not have a repainting of the building worked into my yearly budget.” By the time it went through insurance and she received the funds, she’d be well into the season. She’d have to front the costs to have the building ready for opening day.

  She had an emergency fund, but that was for weather disasters and broken equipment. Not to repaint the building. She could only imagine how much that would cost. Probably every penny she had left in that fund, and then what? What if there was another emergency, and she was cleaned out? She could always tap into the money she was saving to get an ice cream cart for the boardwalk and the truck to rent out for events… but expanding the business had been her dream. She’d been saving from day one and to think she’d have to take from that stash to fix something because of some asshole… Anger boiled beneath the surface, and she clenched her jaw, afraid if she didn’t she’d either scream or cry.

  Tony’s kind smile turned on her. “I might know someone who can give you a good deal.”

  Relief blossomed inside her, filling her with hope. “Who?”

  Tony ran a hand over his head, pushing back an array of curls that had spiraled forward. “Me.”

  Her head tilted, absorbing his offer. It was very kind of him, but… “You’re an artist, not a house painter.”

  “Do you forget how I spent my summers from thirteen until eighteen?”

  Memories of going to Ella’s house before heading to the beach popped into her head. She would get there early, to guarantee they’d find a spot up close to the water and before Ella’s shift at the restaurant. Tony was always running out the door with a Pop-Tart in one hand and his keys in the other. Paint covered clothes, a bandana in his hair, and a sketchbook under his arm so he could draw on his break. “Painting houses with Mr. Ruggerio.”

  “Exactly. If you lay out the money for supplies, I’ll do the labor at no charge.”

  Krissy shook her head and held up her hand. “No, absolutely not. If you do the work, I’m paying you” Growing up in the small town, Krissy believed in helping your neighbor out, but this was too much. Painting an entire building wasn’t a small task, especially if she was going to make him follow a certain protocol, so her request to become a historical landmark wouldn’t be impacted.

  “What about trade?” he asked.

  “Trade? What do I have that you could possibly want?” She had a new line of soap she was making out of beer. Maybe he’d like that… still it wasn’t enough. She could offer him ice cream for life…

  His eyes, dark and smoldering, met hers. “You.”

  A laugh from deep down rumbled up and burst out. “Do you really think bribing me with a free paint job can get me back in your bed again?” She whispered the words, in case Reid was close by.

  “No, of course not. I need a model. Someone to just sit in a chair so I can paint.”

  Her eyebrow arched at his admission. “I thought you painted abstract, like Jackson
Pollock.”

  His gaze dropped to the floor, and his shoulders slumped slightly. “Unfortunately, that isn’t currently bringing in much income, so I’ve decided to try my hand at portraits, but I’m out of practice.”

  “But that’s not your passion.” They had many conversations over the years about his artistry and how he wanted to stay true to his vision. Portraits, in his opinion, were boring, and brought nothing new to the table. He wanted to revolutionize painting like Pollock, Warhol, and Picasso. He wanted to create his own style while forging a new path in the industry.”

  “No, it’s not, but I can’t live in my grandpa’s home forever. Besides, I have bills to pay. I need the money.”

  “Then let me pay you!”

  He ran a hand over his curls, holding them back. “I don’t want your money. I just want you.” Her eyes shot to his and red tinted his cheeks before he shook his head. “As a model, I mean.”

  “And all I’ll have to do is sit in a chair while you paint. Nothing else?”

  “Nothing else.”

  That seemed simple enough. She had a little free time before the ice cream shop opened, and all her soap orders had been filled for the next two weeks. “Can I watch TV?”

  “As long as you stay still.”

  She missed watching TV. Lately, every time she sat down to do so, she felt guilty, thinking she could be spending her time more productively. Now she could sit on her butt, watch TV, and in return get the place painted, the damage covered up, at no other charge.

  It was a no brainer. She held her hand out. “You got yourself a deal.”

  Chapter 4

  The smell of pancakes and bacon aroused Tony from a deep sleep that involved a bare Krissy beneath him. He tried to fall back asleep, but his stomach growled in rebellion. The scent of breakfast called him, and his stomach wouldn’t let him ignore it. It’d be a nice change from his usual Pop-Tart and coffee.

  He took a quick shower and headed to the kitchen. Ella stood at the stove, flipping pancakes while Grandpa snuck a piece of bacon. Ella pretended to swat him with the spatula, but he gave a cheeky grin, and with an amused roll of her eyes, she let him go. It was how his mornings used to be before Ella fell in love with the grandson of their grandpa’s revival and now spent half the year with him in California.