The Sassy One - Page 21/43

“I’m glad you had a good time,” he said cautiously.

Francesca gave him an “I told you so” smile. “The Grands loved Kelly. I’m afraid she might have a bruise from all the cheek-pinching, though.”

Kelly rubbed her cheek. “Grandma Tessa pinches really hard, but she’s still nice.”

“I agree,” Sam said as he cut into the lasagna. “They provided us with dinner.”

“They would have given you enough for a week if I’d let them,” Francesca told him. “When I mentioned you didn’t have anyone to do your cooking, I thought maybe Grandma Tessa was going to move in.”

“Grammy M made these scones,” Kelly said. “They were really good. And there were cookies. We brought a pie back for dessert.”

Sam shook his head. Francesca could crow all she wanted, and he wouldn’t complain. She’d been a hundred percent right. Kelly had been transformed by grandmotherly affection and a big family.

He smiled at his daughter. “Several boxes were delivered to the office today,” he said. “I’m guessing it’s your things. I already put them in your room.”

Kelly’s eyes widened. She bounced to her feet, then actually hesitated. “May I be excused?”

Sam almost fell out of his chair. “Ah, sure,” he said.

She ran out of the room.

He turned to Francesca. “Was she just polite?”

Francesca grinned. “I know. It’s incredible. As it turns out, she’s been hiding good manners from us. You should have heard her with the Grands. She even said ma’am.”

“I’m stunned.”

“I’m thrilled. I think this is a big breakthrough, Sam. Kelly had a good time, but more important, she relaxed. Once she feels safe and secure, you’re going to see a whole new child.”

“That would be terrific. So how did it go with your family?”

She patted her mouth with her napkin. “As expected. They’ve picked out china for us, but not the flatware.”

“You okay with that? You didn’t have to take her. Not that I’m not grateful for the transformation.”

She sighed. “I tell myself it’s for a good cause. And it is. But there were lots of questions and speculations.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault.” She smiled. “I only have my gene pool to blame.”

“But I do owe you. Kelly is a different kid, and I’ll pay a lot to keep her that way.” He chuckled. “Name your price.”

He expected her to tease him or be suggestive. Instead her expression turned apologetic. “It’s nothing so simple as money. My family has a big Fourth of July party every summer. My mom invited you and Kelly to attend. Kelly has already accepted on your behalf.”

Sam didn’t mind. “A party sounds fun, as long as I can bring my grandfather along. With Elena out of town, he’d be all alone.”

“No problem. It’s just two hundred of our closest friends.” She swallowed. “The thing is my family now thinks you and I are more than friends, and there’s going to be fairly serious matchmaking. You need to be prepared.”

He smiled. “Are they going to talk about how wonderful you are?”

“No, more likely they’ll want to see your last two tax returns, check out your teeth, and get you to commit to a wedding date.”

“The hard sell, huh?”

“They will redefine the term.”

“I can handle it.”

She shook her head. “You say that now, but you haven’t faced them yet.”

“I can handle anything.”

A sudden explosion of sound made the house shake. Sam winced and glanced up at the ceiling. The steady beat of a drum vibrated through his chest.

“I guess she has a CD collection,” Francesca said helpfully.

“And a powerful set of speakers.”

10

B renna sat on the edge of her desk while her grandfather paced the length of her small office.

“They’re high quality grapes,” she said, trying to sound calm when all she wanted to do was scream. “Those four acres have a reputation for producing some of the best Pinot Noir in the state. The buyer called to tell me he’s pulling out of the deal and wanted to let me know so I could buy them. No one knows about this yet. I could make a fabulous wine with those grapes.”

Grandpa Lorenzo paused in front of a map of the Marcelli property. He traced the line between their land and that of the Giovannis’.

“No.”

Just like that. No.

Anger burned inside of her. The request wasn’t unreasonable. What she really wanted was to buy the four acres, but she didn’t have the money, and her grandfather wouldn’t be interested. Not when he was talking about selling.

“Why?” she asked before she could stop herself. Arguing never changed his mind.

He stared at her, his dark eyes narrowed. “We don’t buy grapes from strangers. Marcelli Wines are grown on Marcelli land. Our name means something.”

“It’s not going to mean shit when you sell it.”

The words were out before she could stop herself, then she told herself she didn’t care. She was tired of him not listening.

Her grandfather stiffened, then muttered something in Italian. She didn’t understand what he was saying, which was probably for the best.

“We could start a new label,” she said. “The big companies do it all the time.”

“Too much work. No point.”

He dismissed her with a wave, then walked out of her office. Brenna picked up her Day Runner and threw it across the room. The binder snapped opened and pages went flying everywhere.

It wasn’t fair, she thought. Not that fair ever meant anything. She’d sealed her fate the day she’d decided to marry Jeff. Her other option—eloping with the enemy—would have made her entire family go ballistic, but at least then she would have been following her heart instead of her head. As it was, she had only herself to blame. Well, herself and a very stubborn grandfather.

Her phone rang.

“What?” she demanded.

“Hey, don’t snap at me,” Francesca said. “Whatever’s going on there isn’t my fault.”

Brenna sagged into her chair. “Sorry. I just had a run-in with the old man.”

“I’m guessing you weren’t victorious.”

“Am I ever?”

“Not with him.” Her sister sighed. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay, then I’m calling to invite you to join Katie and me for lunch. As she’s the one with the wildly successful business, she’s buying. Are you in?”

“Absolutely. I need to get away from this place.”

“You look mad enough to spit,” Francesca said when she walked into the café and saw Brenna already sitting at an outdoor table.

Her twin rose and hugged her, then collapsed back into her chair. “I had another go-round with our esteemed grandfather. He makes me insane.”

Francesca sat and put her purse on the stone floor. “About the Pinot grapes?”

Brenna sighed. “I know better. I’m not stupid. But I went ahead and asked, and of course he said no. What’s the point, right? I mean if he’s really selling.”

Francesca touched her arm. “You don’t know that.”

Brenna’s dark brown eyes clouded with sadness. “I doubt I’m going to like the outcome of any plan he has. I can’t believe I’ve finally figured out where I belong, only to learn it’s not going to exist anymore.”

“Okay, who died?” Katie asked as she walked over to the table.

“No one,” Brenna said as she rose. “Just any chance I had at happiness.”

Katie hugged her. “Okay, so we’re going to need wine and dessert at this lunch.”

Francesca smiled as she stood. “I’m thinking real dressing on our salads, too. None of that low-fat stuff.”

She kissed Katie’s cheek, then held her sister at arm’s length. Katie wore her long reddish-brown hair up. An elegant summer dress with a short-sleeved jacket made her look like the successful businesswoman she was. Katie had always been pretty, but since falling for Zach, she had positively bloomed.

“You look great,” Francesca told her as they sat.

“Thanks. It’s the whole ‘in love’ thing. All that happiness aerates my skin or something.”

“It’s the sex,” Brenna said. “Hot monkey sex on a regular basis is way better than any night cream.”

“Is this your professional opinion?” Katie asked.

“Sure. I’m writing up an article. You’ll be able to read it in the medical journals next month.”

Katie laughed. “Then I’ll be young forever.”

“You’re going to tire Zach out.”

“I think he’s man enough to keep up with me.” Katie’s humor faded. “So what’s the crisis?”

Francesca and Brenna looked at each other.

“No crisis,” Brenna said, then sighed. “Not yet. Grandpa Lorenzo might be selling the winery.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible. He’s obsessive about family.”

“He doesn’t have any male heirs.”

“What does that matter?” she demanded. “You love the winery. You know more than he does. Whenever he doesn’t listen to you, he’s eventually forced to admit he made a mistake. Brenna, this is crazy.”

“This is our family,” Brenna said. “He’s accusing me of not being loyal and not sticking around. By marrying Jeff and moving to L.A., I’ve proven I can’t be trusted.”

Katie shook her head. “We should all talk to him or something.”

“You know he’d never listen. Instead he’d get mad and throw us out of the family.”

“Something he likes to do on a regular basis,” Katie grumbled. “I’m sorry,” she told Brenna.

The waitress arrived. As this was a favorite place, the sisters all knew what they wanted. They ordered salads, extra bread, and diet soda.

When she’d left, Katie picked up the conversation. “I wish there was something we could do about this, Brenna. Have you talked to the folks?”

Brenna shrugged. “I’ve thought about it. I know Grandpa makes Dad crazy, too, but the thing is they work together. They live in the same house. I don’t want to make them choose. Plus, going to them would make me feel like I couldn’t handle things on my own.”

Francesca understood her sister’s reluctance to get her parents in the middle of a big fight. Brenna would consider this a fight she had to manage by herself, much as Francesca insisted on paying her own way through college and grad school.

“Are you sure you can’t buy the Pinot grapes yourself?” Francesca asked. “With the money you’re going to be getting from the settlement on your divorce, couldn’t you rent equipment?”

The waitress arrived with the wine. All three sisters clinked their glasses together.

“I’ve done the math,” Brenna said. “I wouldn’t have enough. Plus, it would be such a small production. However, it did get me thinking….” Her voice trailed off.

“About?” Katie prompted.

“Starting my own label.” She held up her hand before either sister could respond. “I don’t know. I’m in the ‘maybe’ stage. It’s a little scary to consider.”

Francesca couldn’t imagine the work involved. Or the money. She sucked in a breath. “Do I want to know what you’re looking at in start-up capital?”