Heard It Through the Grapevine

by Pamela Browning

  She stared into his face, experiencing a sense of déjà vu. This was the face that she’d fallen in love with, after all. More than anything, she needed him to be that person again, the man she’d thought she could trust. But at the same time, it was clear that he wasn’t that man, and perhaps he never had been. Perhaps she had expected too much of him from the very beginning.

  “Josh, whatever business we had with each other was over and done with two years ago. You can’t expect to show up here in Rio Robles and force your way into my life. It’s not fair.” The words tumbled out in a torrent, and when their eyes caught and held, she realized that he certainly did expect to pick up where they’d left off.

  “Do you realize what you’re saying?” he demanded.

  “I’m saying I don’t want you to come around anymore.” She would hold firm. She wouldn’t give in.

  “I don’t think you mean that,” Josh said, tipping her chin up.

  She steeled herself against his charm, his good looks, the flare of disappointment in his eyes. “Go home to Boston, where you belong, Josh.” But her thoughts became a jumble inside her head, ricocheted inside her skull and collided with one another in confusion when he allowed his lips to graze her temple in a sweet and gentle kiss.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said close to her ear, in a voice that churned up a thousand forbidden thoughts.

  “I can’t make you leave Rio Robles, but please, don’t come here,” she whispered, stricken to know that they would never do any of the things she was thinking about. Never, never, never, the words echoed in her heartbeat, in her pulse.

  “We’ll see,” Josh said. Then he was gone, the door slamming behind him, and everything became ordinary again. Timothy was weaving insistently through her ankles, and Mia was calling from upstairs, “Aunt Gina, didn’t you want to talk to Mom on the phone?” All was back to normal, yet it was not. She wondered if it would ever be.

  She watched through the open door as Josh strapped on a bike helmet and switched on the headlamp. He waved to her and grinned before mounting the bike and pedaling off into the night. She didn’t wave back.

  “Be right there,” she called to Mia, trying to sound as if nothing unusual had happened. She picked Timothy up and carried him, purring loudly, up the stairs. When she reached the kitchen, she pulled the curtain aside at the window. She could barely see the taillight on Josh’s bike receding into the distance on the highway.

  Chapter Seven

  Josh didn’t stop by the next day, nor did he make an appearance on the next. Gina found herself glancing toward the driveway at odd times, especially when she didn’t have a customer. She was distracted when ringing up sales to the point that twice she had to void them. Worst of all, Mia kept prattling about Josh, how he laughed when she said something funny, how he’d complimented the salad dressing she’d made for dinner.

  “I like him,” Mia said. “I’m going to invite him to my skating party.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Gina told her, trying her best to sound firm.

  “Why not? I bet he’s a good skater.”

  That wasn’t all Gina would bet he was good at, but she held her tongue.

  And when she dropped by Mia’s skating party the next evening to take her a birthday present, there was Josh at the center of a clutch of male relatives, regaling them with some story about scuba diving in the South Pacific. Gina pointedly ignored him, returning his smile and genial wave with a slight nod, and she made excuses to leave the rink as soon as she could.

  As if that weren’t enough, he turned up at her aunt Victorine’s family dinner the following Sunday, escorted by Rocco and an enthralled Frankie, who seemed to hang on Josh’s every word. This appearance rated a bit of stilted conversation with him about the weather before Josh retired to the den with the guys and started talking antique cars. Though she couldn’t help walking past the room and even made eye contact with Josh twice as she helped clear the table, Gina kept her distance.

  Her cousin Jaimie’s questions about Josh and why he was there soon became annoying.

  “Ask Rocco” was Gina’s terse reply, after which Jaimie merely slid puzzled glances at her out of the corners of her eyes until she, too, disappeared into the den. Gina volunteered to hold her cousin Rosalie’s colicky baby, thus saving herself from having to make nice to Josh or the other guys when they finally emerged from the den and went outside to shoot baskets.

  Afterward, Gina realized that she was spending far too much time obsessing about Josh Corbett, worrying about what Angelini family functions he’d honor with his presence next. When she accosted Rocco, he fluffed off her objection to his including Josh at events that he had no right to attend.

  “Frankie’s crazy about Josh,” Rocco said. “Besides, I suspect Josh still likes you.”

  “The question here,” Gina replied stiffly, “is whether I like him.”

  “Listen, Gina. You don’t like the guy, you don’t have to hang out with him. The point is, Frankie and I think he’s great, and so does everyone else. I’d be the first to make life difficult for Josh Corbett if he disses you again, but telling him to get lost because you don’t like seeing his face at family gatherings? No way.”

  Gina didn’t understand how Josh managed to hold sway over her relatives, other than the fact that he was personable, charming and, yes, good-looking. Still, his return to her life was a bit much to deal with.

  “What’s the matter with you, dear?” her mother, Maren, asked a day or so after Mia’s skating party when she came by Good Thymes to pick up fresh mint to serve with the lamb that Aunt Dede was preparing for a banquet.

  “Nothing,” Gina told her. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, that’s all.”

  “Oh, the bachelor auction. I heard that only twelve men have signed up.”

  This was true, and it didn’t bode well for the event. “We need at least fifteen. I’ve a good mind to sign up Rocco. I could get even with him for sending my application to Mr. Moneybags.”

  “Was that so bad? You had a very nice vacation in Scotland because of the show.”

  Maren could always be counted upon to play the devil’s advocate, but Gina didn’t always appreciate hearing an opposing view. She made a face and decided that she’d avoid the obvious—mentioning Josh. “It was cold in Dunsmoor, and I had a miserable time at Loch Ness when we all went to see if there was really a Loch Ness monster.”

  Maren countered with “Only because that mean girl from Ohio tripped you and you fell into a puddle.”

  “That’s how I found out that there really is a Loch Ness monster, and her name is Heidi.” Heidi had been eliminated from the game only one day after causing Gina’s inglorious sprawl in the mud.

  Maren picked up her bags of mint. “Give me a call when you’re not so busy. We’ll have lunch.”

  “Okay,” Gina said, kissing her mother on the cheek. “Maybe Barbara can come with us.”

  “I’d love that. She can leave the kids with Nick, and we’ll go to Volare.” It was the most elegant restaurant in town, and it was owned by Angelinis.

  Her mother turned when she reached the door. “Oh, Gina, don’t forget Frankie’s accordion recital. It’s tomorrow night.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Gina assured her.

  After Maren left, Gina spent some time going over her accounts, and then she ate lunch. It was a solitary meal consisting of cold pizza, and she kept remembering the day that Josh had brought meatball sandwiches. For the life of her, she couldn’t recall what it was about him that had irritated her so much on that day. Or any day, come to think of it.

  Sighing, she checked her appointment book to see what the rest of her week looked like. A committee meeting for the bachelor auction tonight, and tomorrow, Frankie’s accordion recital.

  Nothing really exciting. Nothing really new.

  Well, there could have been something—and someone—exciting in her life, but she had sent him away. Which was no more than
he had done to her back in Scotland, but still. Reminding herself that the reason she’d sent him packing was self-preservation didn’t help a whole lot. The comfort that fact afforded was as cold as the pizza she’d eaten for lunch.

  WHEN GINA TRIED TO START her car that night to go to the committee meeting, something whirred under the hood and died.

  She got out, slammed the door and raised the hood, then regarded the engine with trepidation. She could check the oil and the radiator, and that was the extent of her car care knowledge. She’d learned from past experience that the best thing to do under such circumstances was to phone Rocco, so she stumped back inside the cottage and dialed his number.

  “Rocco,” she said without preliminaries. “My car just quit.” In the background she could hear Frankie practicing the accordion.

  “Okay, calm down and tell me what happened,” Rocco said.

  She described the car’s death rattle, told him there was no smoke and no fire. “Sounds like the battery,” he said.

  “We put a new one in only a couple of months ago.”

  “I’ll take a look at it tomorrow. I can send the tow truck to your house. They’ll pick your car up first thing in the morning.”

  Gina sighed. “All right, Rocco, and thanks. I’ll watch for the tow truck.” After she hung up, she called one of her committee members, who fortunately was happy to swing by to pick her up.

  The next morning, Gina’s car left, ingloriously towed. She had no idea when Rocco would have it ready for her, and when it wasn’t back by dinnertime, she knew she’d have to find a ride to Frankie’s recital. She called Rocco first.

  “No problem,” he told her. “You can come with Frankie and me.”

  “That’s good, but doesn’t he have to be at the school auditorium early?”

  “Only fifteen minutes or so. Leo Buscani has those kids so well prepped for this recital that they all understand exactly what to do.”

  “I can’t wait to hear Frankie play,” Gina said, and she meant it. The boy’s obsession with the accordion was mind-boggling for her as well as the rest of her family.

  “Yeah, well, he’s not the Boy Scout type, and he isn’t into sports all that much, so I’m glad he has an activity that keeps him busy. A kid like Frankie needs to have worthwhile things to do, you know?”

  Gina did know. Too many kids in Rio Robles got involved with things they shouldn’t, which was why building a teen center was one of her top priorities.

  When Rocco stopped by to get her, Gina was pleased to see that Frankie was all spruced up, his hair carefully slicked into fashionable spikes, his new jacket hanging loosely on his compact frame and his white shirt spotless.

  “Are you psyched up for this recital?” Gina asked him.

  Frankie replied with a wide grin. “You bet. I know my piece inside out.”

  Rocco dropped Frankie off at the back door of the auditorium. As Rocco and Gina walked into the school, people called out greetings.

  “Hi, Gina. Hi, Rocco. Lovely night, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and we’re going to hear some good music,” Rocco called back.

  “Can’t wait to hear that boy Frankie play.”

  Gina smiled up at Rocco. “Are you excited?”

  “Nervous,” Rocco grunted. “I remember how hard it was for me.”

  Gina laughed. “Ditto the violin.” Almost every Angelini, unless he or she could show just cause, was supposed to learn to play one or the other.

  Being back inside Rio Robles Elementary School awakened memories for Gina, who had been a student there years ago. The scent of floor wax, the smell of chalk dust wafting outward from the classrooms, seemed so familiar. The auditorium was exactly the same, its blue velvet stage curtain only slightly more frayed than in the old days. Gina and Rocco found seats in the middle section, and Gina, after greeting one or two friends who sat nearby, glanced over the program. Many of the children who were playing in the recital were relatives. She scanned the faces of her fellow audience members. Her mother was there, and her sister, Barbara, with her family down in one of the first rows, and—but who was that sitting beside Mia?

  It couldn’t be. Why would Josh be here? Yet she didn’t know anyone else whose hair was shaped exactly that way or who wore such a well-cut blue blazer. Almost as if he could feel her gaze on the back of his head, the man in question swiveled in his seat and smiled directly into her eyes.

  Why? How? She could only assume that Mia, the little minx, had something to do with this.

  Beside her, Rocco waved at Josh. “I didn’t know Josh was coming tonight,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah. I invited him. I told you, Frankie thinks he’s a cool guy.” Rocco shrugged offhandedly.

  “You invited him?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her tone.

  Rocco’s expression was bland. “Sure. Why not?”

  Gina let out a long sigh. “Don’t you realize that I’ve been trying to get rid of him?”

  Rocco pretended to be aggrieved. “When he’s just getting the hang of bocce? Why would you do that?”

  “Maybe,” Gina said through clenched teeth, “because I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  “Ah, Gina, you’re awfully prickly about this thing. The Mr. Moneybags show was just a game, right? When the guys and I are playing bocce, we don’t hold a grudge. We can get together for a few beers the next day and never think about who won or lost.”

  “It’s hardly the same,” Gina said. “My heart, for instance, is not a bocce ball.” This was as self-revelatory as she wanted to get.

  Surprise filtered across Rocco’s features. “I didn’t think you were in the game for love. I thought it was for the money. And didn’t you tell everyone that you didn’t really care that Josh chose Tahoma?”

  Gina was saved from having to reply when the young musicians, seventeen of them, filed onto the stage.

  Rocco, their previous conversation forgotten, leaned forward in his seat. His eyes were focused on his son, who fidgeted before aiming a confident smile in his father’s direction.

  Throughout the preliminaries and the playing of the beginning students, Gina tried to avoid looking in Josh’s direction. But she couldn’t face the stage without his being in the center of her field of vision, and once Josh turned his head slightly to the side so that she could have sworn that he was studying her out of the corners of his eyes.

  Then Frankie stood up to play, and she forgot about Josh Corbett. Frankie exuded an aura of mastery as he began his piece, and Gina was spellbound by the transformation of the familiar scrawny kid into a competent musician. His fingers dancing across the buttons of the accordion were quick and sure. He didn’t make a single mistake.

  “Wow, Rocco,” Gina whispered as Frankie bowed and the audience applauded. “He’s good.”

  “He’s terrific,” Rocco said, beaming with pride.

  Frankie, when he reached his seat, looked straight at Josh, who gave him an exuberant thumbs-up.

  Gina frowned; not that Josh could see her, since he was facing front. But what right did Josh Corbett have to barge into a family occasion and act as if he belonged? To be grinned at by Frankie? To sit right down in front next to Mia, her own niece and godchild?

  The more Gina thought about it, through the performance of three more advanced students, the more irked she became. By the time the kids marched off the stage, she was sure that she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue when she came face-to-face with Josh, which she was sure would be inevitable despite the crush of people leaving the recital.

  The whole time she was smiling and greeting family members and friends as she preceded Rocco up the aisle, Gina was doing a slow burn. She’d told Josh that she didn’t want to see him around, but he’d managed to figure many ways around her. Insinuating himself into the good graces of her family bordered on the diabolical as far as she was concerned. Who did Josh Corbett think he was, anyway?

  If she’d been driving her own car, she would have bolte
d as soon as her feet reached the vestibule. But she wasn’t driving her own car, and she wanted to talk to Frankie, who had made them all proud. To discover that Josh was smack-dab in the middle of the family group surging around a jubilant Frankie didn’t soothe her at all.

  She swallowed her anger, which wasn’t easy under the circumstances. “Congratulations, Frankie, you did a great job,” Gina said. Josh smiled at her in that genteel but predatory way of his and somehow managed to blend into this group of Angelinis.

  “Josh, may I speak to you privately?” Gina said through tight lips.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Josh said. She started to walk away, her fury barely contained. Josh shouldered after her through a bunch of her male cousins, all of whom seemed to have an affable word for him.

  By the time she reached an alcove where they could remove themselves from people streaming out the front doors, she was spitting fire. “You shouldn’t have come here,” she said, her words stinging the air.

  Josh, as if oblivious to her anger, lifted his brows and spoke in a stage whisper. “Right. If the agency finds out, they’ll have to kill me.”

  She stared. “What…?” Too late, she figured out that he was joking. This only made her temper rise. “There is no agency, and if anyone is going to kill you, it will probably be me,” she said furiously.

  “I know of a couple of ways you could do it,” he said speculatively. “Like—”

  “I suspect that you’re about to make an indecent suggestion,” Gina said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Too bad. Your life is much too dull. I was hoping you’d want to spice it up a bit.”

  “If I ever do, it won’t be with you.”

  “What? Haven’t you started liking me?”

  Liking him? She’d fallen in love with him. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

  She could barely think over the pounding of her pulse at her temples. “I believe I’m getting a headache,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and fore-finger. Her favorite herbal remedy for headaches was lavender. Too bad she didn’t know a remedy for love gone awry, misplaced trust or persistent suitors who needed to be discouraged.