Heard It Through the Grapevine

by Pamela Browning

  “Anyway,” Rocco went on, “I don’t think I could ever find a woman as fine as her.”

  “Still, like you said, it’s not easy being a single dad.”

  “I’d like to have someone to laugh with, you know what I mean? Cissy and I used to laugh all the time. There are women I’ve gone out with, but none seriously. I even like one of them a lot. Shelley McMahon. She runs the shoe shop downtown.”

  “I think I saw her in Good Thymes today. Short, with curly brown hair and freckles?”

  “That’s the one. She was in Gina’s place?”

  “They seemed like old friends.”

  “They were in school together. Gina set us up over a year ago, but then Shelley’s father got sick and she went to Oregon to take care of him. She’s only been back for a few months. You want to hear something interesting? Shelley plays the accordion, just like my Frankie.” Rocco grinned and leaned back against the seat. “What do you think, maybe Shelley and me could get married and have a bunch of kids who play the accordion? I’m not sure the world is ready for that.” He laughed.

  “Maybe some of them would take up the violin or drums out of mercy for your ears.”

  Rocco slapped his knee. “Now, that would be something. Say, you know what? You’re welcome to come to Frankie’s accordion recital Thursday night at the elementary school auditorium. He thinks you’re the greatest, and he’d probably get a kick out of it if you showed up.”

  “Thanks, Rocco, I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “It sure surprises me that Frankie turned out to be a musician. He says he wants to get a job with a band when he grows up. I wonder if there are any rock bands that need an accordion player.”

  “You never can tell what’s going to happen next in the music business,” Josh said. This was something he knew about; his brother had made a fortune by selling the online music business he’d started in college to a big Hollywood recording studio.

  “Same thing in the wine business,” Rocco said more seriously.

  “You must be one of the few in your family who doesn’t work at Vineyard Oaks,” Josh observed.

  “I had more of a talent for fixing cars. My uncle Fredo believes that you have to have a passion in life, and mine didn’t have anything to do with grapes, although my first car was burgundy. It was a cool Mustang. Anyway, Uncle Fredo gave me his blessing to become a mechanic, God bless him.”

  “I talked with Fredo at crush,” Josh said, recalling the likable man with the bushy white hair.

  “I guess you could say he’s the true patriarch of the family. Everyone listens to Uncle Fredo. Even Gina. Hell, even me.” Rocco chuckled.

  Edna delivered their food—pot roast in gravy for Rocco and fried chicken for Frankie, who hurried in from the back room when he saw that the food was ready.

  “I got over a thousand points in Troll Maze Challenge,” he announced proudly. “That’s the best I ever done.”

  “The best I ever did,” Rocco corrected as he reached for the salt and pepper.

  Frankie punched his father lightly on the biceps. “You didn’t do it, Pop. I did,” and he laughed uproariously at his own joke.

  “How did you manage to get so good at video games?” Josh asked Frankie.

  “I’ve got my ways. I can read minds, did you know that?” Frankie said.

  Josh was sure Frankie was teasing. “No!” he said. “How do you do it?”

  “That’s a secret. I bet I can read your mind.” Frankie took a bite of chicken.

  Josh was willing to play along. “All right, then. What am I thinking?”

  “I have to dial you in,” Frankie said. “I have to ask you some questions.”

  Josh shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  “Don’t tell me what it is, but pick a number between one and ten.”

  “Got it.” Josh chose the number eight.

  “Now multiply that number by nine.”

  In his mind, Josh multiplied eight times nine and got seventy-two. “Okay.”

  “Subtract five from that number.”

  Josh did. Five subtracted from seventy-two was sixty-seven.

  Frankie put his fork down, really getting into this. “Does the number consist of two digits or one?”

  “It consists of two.”

  Josh glanced at Rocco, who went on forking in mashed potatoes.

  “Add the two digits together,” Frankie said.

  The six and seven in the number sixty-seven equaled thirteen when added together. “All right,” Josh said, still with no clue where this game was going.

  “Is it still a double-digit number?”

  “Yes,” Josh told him.

  “Okay, add the two digits, but don’t tell me what the number is, okay?” By this time, Frankie was on the edge of his seat, enjoying Josh’s mystification.

  “Yeah,” Josh said. He added one and three in his head.

  “Now, Josh, if the letter A is the number one, and B is the number two and C is three and so on, assign a letter to the number you have in mind, but don’t tell me what it is.”

  Josh’s number was four, so that would be the letter D. “Got it,” he told Frankie.

  Frankie made a big show of putting his hands to his temples, closing his eyes and appearing to concentrate. “It’s coming through. I’m starting to get vibes,” he said.

  “Frankie, are you ever going to get to the end of this?” Rocco asked impatiently.

  “Sure, Pop. Josh, think of a country that begins with the letter that you’re thinking of, and tell me when you’ve chosen it. Again, don’t say what it is,” Frankie cautioned.

  Josh had been to Denmark on vacation last year, so that was his choice. “I’ve got a country,” he said.

  “The second letter of that country is very important,” Frankie said. “You need to think of a mammal whose name starts with that second letter.”

  The second letter in Denmark was E. In his mind, Josh immediately pictured an elephant strolling along a country road near Copenhagen.

  “Now think of the color of that animal,” instructed Frankie.

  The elephant in Josh’s imagination, like all elephants Josh had ever seen, was gray.

  Frankie was pressing his fingers to his temples again. “I’m getting it, I’m really close. I’ve got it.” His eyes flew open. “You’re thinking of a gray elephant from Denmark, correct?”

  Josh was flabbergasted. “That’s it! You’re right! How did you do that?”

  Frankie laughed. “I told you I could read your mind,” he said, picking up a chicken leg.

  “Rocco?”

  Rocco lifted his shoulders and let them fall in an expressive shrug. “I haven’t a clue. I’ve never seen him do that before. Frankie, what’s the secret?”

  “I’m smart, I guess,” Frankie said.

  Josh thought he’d heard every bar trick in the book, but this was a new one. Or maybe Frankie really did know how to read minds.

  “If you can read my mind,” Rocco was saying jovially to his son, “you’ll know that I want you to do all your homework tonight.”

  As he listened to father and son bantering, Josh was amused at Rocco’s jokes and Frankie’s kid humor. When dinner was over, they all walked to the parking lot together.

  “Oh, wow, a Beemer,” Frankie said when he spotted Josh’s rented BMW. “Maybe we could paint my bike this shade of white, huh, Pop?” The BMW’s paint had a pearl finish to it.

  “Naw, son, you decided on bright red. I’ve already bought the paint.”

  While Frankie was appreciatively running his hand over the car’s highly polished finish, Rocco took Josh aside.

  “This thing with my cousin Gina,” Rocco said. “You seem like a real nice guy. You can’t play bocce worth a damn, but I like you.”

  Josh started to say something, but Rocco held up his hand to silence him. “What I mean to say is, the other guys in the family and me, we look after Gina.”

  “She’s lucky to have such a close family. I told her that.�
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  Rocco’s eyes bored into him, suddenly as hard as agate. “I’m glad you realize it. She’s a sensitive girl, and we don’t like people who aren’t good to her.”

  Josh felt slightly sick in his gut to think that anyone might suggest that he’d harm Gina; it was the last thing he intended to do. He found his voice. “Don’t worry, Rocco. I’ll treat her right.”

  Rocco spared him a curt nod, then became congenial again. “You come around the shop, have a few beers with me and the guys some night, okay? Or stop by the house for a game of bocce, like I told you.”

  “Okay,” Josh said.

  Rocco and Frankie got into Rocco’s pickup truck. “I’ll be glad to save a puppy for you,” Frankie called as Rocco backed out of the parking space.

  “I’ll think about it,” Josh promised, even though he knew he couldn’t take a dog back to Boston with him. That hadn’t changed.

  But something had. He wasn’t viewing the situation with Gina in quite the same way. She was still a challenge, but Rocco’s warning had given him pause.

  He never started out by planning to hurt a woman’s feelings, but certainly it happened more often than not. Usually, the first attraction didn’t hold up under the weight of repeated encounters, or he would conveniently plan an out-of-town trip to cool down the romance, or they’d have an argument that couldn’t be avoided. His habit after such an experience was to find another willing woman and to give her a whirl until the same thing happened again. This had been his behavior since prep school, woman after woman after woman.

  He told himself that he wasn’t ready to settle down. He didn’t want a house and a family. He couldn’t handle the responsibility. All true, at least until recently.

  Now, after seeing Gina with her family, after witnessing the give-and-take, her pleasure in living near and being with her kinfolk, he found himself yearning for a place within a similar family circle. Not that it was possible with his far-flung family, all of whom had divergent interests.

  What if—but it was a crazy speculation. He had been thinking, what if he fell in love with Gina Angelini?

  A good question, but perhaps not the most important one. The key was whether or not Gina Angelini could fall in love with him. Considering the way things were going, it wasn’t even a remote possibility.

  THE NEXT DAY AS SHE WORKED, Gina found herself watching the gateposts in the parking lot for Josh’s car to come careering through. It didn’t appear, which was the irritating way of things. When she didn’t want him around, there he was. When she did, he wasn’t in sight. It was enough to drive a person to distraction.

  Which was why, when Mia arrived to do her homework because her mother was still working in the office at Vineyard Oaks, Gina wasn’t any good at helping her with her times tables. After a while, Mia threw her pencil down on the counter. “Aunt Gina, you’re not much good at this! Nine times six is fifty-four, not sixty-four!”

  Gina blew out a long breath. “Sorry, Mia. I’m failing at anything that requires concentration today.” She went to the door and let Timothy in, and he meowed and twined around her ankles.

  “Can I feed him?” Mia asked, her math forgotten.

  “Of course. Go upstairs and pour some crunchies in his dish. You know where to find the cat food.”

  Mia went running up the stairs to Gina’s apartment, Timothy in hot pursuit.

  Gina sighed and stuck a bunch of cash register receipts on a spindle. Business had been slow today, and there was only half an hour to go before closing time. She had a mind to close up early.

  “Mia,” she called up the stairs. “Want to stay for dinner? I have lasagna.”

  “Mmm, I’d love it!”

  “Okay, I’ll phone your mom and ask if it’s okay.”

  Gina dialed Barbara at the winery. “Hi, Barb, it’s me. I invited Mia to stay for lasagna tonight. Is that okay with you?”

  Her sister sounded harried. “You bet. In fact, it’s a godsend. Uncle Fredo had a big meeting here today, and I’m preparing the minutes. He wants them first thing in the morning, and Elizabeth, who was doing some filing for me, is home with the twins, who both have colds. Stacey wants to sleep over with her best friend tonight, and Nick is in Atascadero for a few days. If I didn’t have to cook, the minutes would be a piece of cake.”

  “No problem. Give me a ring when you get home and I’ll bring Mia over.”

  “It might be late, Gina.”

  “She can always sleep here.”

  “You’re the best sister I’ve got,” Barbara said. She sounded more relaxed now, not as uptight.

  “I’m your only sister,” Gina reminded her. They were both laughing when they hung up.

  “Aunt Gina, did Mom say it was okay for me to stay?” Mia was at the top of the stairs, calling down to her.

  “Yes, so would you take the lasagna out of the fridge so it can warm up a bit before I put it in the oven?”

  “Sure.”

  Gina heard Mia’s quick footsteps as she traversed the floor over to the refrigerator. Another customer had come in during her conversation with Barbara, and she turned to see who it was.

  “Lasagna, huh? Is there enough for me?”

  It was Josh. He wore his Vineyard Oaks T-shirt and jeans, which for him was more casual than usual, and his hair fell across his forehead in kempt disarray.

  “I—I didn’t see you drive up,” she stammered.

  “I rode a bike.”

  “A bike?”

  “A mountain bike, to be exact. I rented it downtown.”

  Mia bounced down the stairs. She smiled in delight when she saw Josh.

  “Josh! Did you ask if there was enough lasagna for you? Well, there is. Isn’t there, Aunt Gina?”

  “I’m not sure,” Gina said, wishing Josh would stop looking her over from top to toe.

  “It’s a whole panful. Do you like lasagna, Josh?”

  “Love it,” Josh said, his eyes never straying from Gina’s figure. Today she was wearing navy pants and a snug red-and-white-striped jersey. Josh Corbett was studying her as if he could see straight through the layers of fabric to her bare skin.

  “Then you should stay. Shouldn’t he, Aunt Gina?”

  If only there were a way to silence her irrepressible niece. “I’m sure Josh has better things to do,” she said faintly.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Josh said, lifting a brow in her direction.

  “You’re staying, you’re staying,” Mia crowed as she hopped down the rest of the stairs.

  “That sounds good to me.” Josh’s grin was infuriating, but things had already gone too far. Now Mia was taking Josh’s hand and leading him outside.

  “I want to show Josh the new bird bath,” she said. “I helped pick it out from the truck that brought it,” she explained in an aside to Josh. He was glancing back over his shoulder, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  Gina let out an exasperated breath. Being outsmarted by a nine-year-old was galling, to say the least, although she couldn’t help admiring the way Mia had finessed the situation.

  She’d give Mia a piece of her mind when she got a chance. There was no way she could allow her niece to go on running her life, no matter how much she loved her.

  Chapter Six

  While Josh and Mia were still outside, Gina smoothed her hair back and ran upstairs. Usually, she wasn’t particular about her housekeeping, but having Josh as a guest made her look at her home in a whole new light. The first thing she encountered in the living room was the jacket she’d taken to crush slung over a chair, and she picked it up and hung it in a closet. She grabbed a handful of magazines off the coffee table and stuffed them in a drawer, glancing around to see if anything else was out of place.

  She loved her small space, with its handhewn oak beams overhead, its smooth wood floors underfoot and the attic at the rear that was kept fragrant by drying herbs. She had furnished the tiny bedroom with an old brass bedstead that had belonged to her grandparents, and the fabrics she’d u
sed for curtains and bedspread were creamy shades of yellow. The kitchen was a marvel. How her cousin Jimmy, who was a renovator and builder, had managed to squeeze all the requisite appliances in while leaving space for a dining nook was beyond her. It was her favorite room, with its strings of drying garlic and peppers and its marble pedestal table that just managed to seat four if at least three of them were skinny.

  “Gina, Gina! Josh and I saw an owl in the big oak tree!” Mia called as the door slammed downstairs.

  “I’m up here,” she replied.

  Mia clattered upstairs. “Josh saw the owl first. It was awesome! Do you think it’ll use the bird bath?”

  “Maybe,” Gina said distractedly as she began to wash sprigs of freshly picked marjoram under the faucet. She wouldn’t have fussed over dinner if Josh weren’t there. His presence made everything different, made her more critical of her cooking as well as her home.

  As he jogged up the stairs, she hastily wiped her hands on her apron. “Come in,” she said, although by the time she said it, he was already in.

  His gaze roamed the room, but he set her mind at ease immediately. “I really like what you’ve done to this place,” he said, his attention captured by the stained-glass piece that she had hung in the kitchen window before his eyes moved on to the pot holders that she’d embroidered with pictures of herbs.

  “Thanks,” she said. She paused, awkward now that he was actually standing in the middle of her kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  The kitchen was so small that her sleeve touched his as she brushed past him on the way to the pantry.

  Mia plopped herself on the floor between the living room and kitchen and began to dig through her school backpack. “Aunt Gina, is it okay if I go in your bedroom to work on my social studies assignment?”

  “Of course,” Gina told her. Mia liked to sit at her small vanity table and do her homework.

  “Want me to set the table first?”

  “No, I’ll take care of it. But thanks.”

  Mia zipped her backpack and heaved it onto her shoulder. “Call me when you’re ready,” she said before she left.