Текст книги "Mama Gets Hitched"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Alice’s tears splattered onto her placemat, watering the morning glory border. I felt like a heel. Not only had I invaded the poor woman’s privacy with those boxes of clothes and pictures, I’d brought on another round of crying.

“I thought maybe you were mad at Ronnie. I remember after I caught my old boyfriend Jeb with another girl, I packed up all the souvenirs I’d saved of him riding rodeo and tossed them in the trash.”

“That’s hardly the same thing, Mace.” Mama sneered at me. “You’re comparing a lying boyfriend to a murdered husband. Did you misplace your manners somewhere in that crazy drive over here?”

I hadn’t told Mama yet about Darryl, or his stepson’s claim that C’ndee jilted him for a caterer in Himmarshee. I was trying to find a roundabout way to discover if Ronnie had been cheating on Alice. Even I knew asking a new widow such a bald question was out of bounds.

To my surprise, Alice’s face softened into a smile. “It’s all right, Rosalee. I can tell you both that Ronnie wasn’t perfect. He slept on the couch a time or two over the years. Then again, I’m no angel, either. Aside from a few spats, though, I’d say we had a pretty good union.”

Mama patted Alice’s hand. “Honey, every marriage has its ups and downs.”

“She should know,” I said to Alice. “Sal will be Mama’s No. 5.”

“Ronnie was my one-and-only. We were just kids when we got married.”

I flashed on that picture of them cutting their wedding cake, eyes shining with youth and happiness. What an awful end to what began with such promise for Alice and Ronnie.

The dreamy smile still lit Alice’s face. But between the café con leche grande from work, and now this cup at Alice’s, I needed to use the facilities. Urgently.

“Could I please use your bathroom?” With stellar timing, I barged into what might have been Alice’s only happy thought of the day.

Mama glared at me as Alice’s smile slipped away. “Help yourself.”

I didn’t want her to think I was snooping again, so I avoided her bedroom and master bath. Plus, I didn’t relish the thought of them sitting and sipping coffee as I was answering nature’s call on the other side of the kitchen wall. I found a dark hallway to the guest bath.

When I finished up and opened the door, bright light spilled into the hall. Some pictures were grouped on the wall, with lots of faded spots where Ronnie’s photos must have hung. I wasn’t being nosy. I was just passing by.

Alice posed for one photo in front of a flat, rural landscape with a silo on the horizon. No puffy clouds or sabal palms. It didn’t appear to be Florida. There was another of her with an elderly couple dressed in worn work clothes. The man looked stern, and the woman, tired. Her parents? The picture next to that was of Alice on her wedding day. She’s a plain woman, but she was radiant that day, like all brides. I leaned in to see if I could spot any tulle on her dress, now that I know what it is.

That’s when I noticed the frame was too big for the picture. Alice stood in a side view, smiling and extending her arms. But a jagged rip down the center of the picture cut off her hands at the wrists. Mama had made me stare at enough wedding photos in magazines that I recognized that side-angle shot. The right half of the photo was gone, the position that always belongs to the groom.

For the moment, I decided to just tuck the sight of that mutilated photo away in my mind. I returned to the kitchen just in time to hear the end of a question from Mama.

“… do about Ronnie’s business?”

I hoped she wasn’t asking Alice if she’d be up to feeding one-hundred-fifty guests by Saturday.

When Alice didn’t answer, Mama quickly said, “Of course, you don’t need to decide anything yet, honey.”

Alice stared into her coffee. “I never wanted Ronnie to start Pig-Out Barbecue and Catering. Just because you love to eat doesn’t mean you should open a restaurant, I told him.”

I slid into my chair. “Ronnie surely did love food,” I said. “I remember him at that prayer breakfast last summer. Before we discovered Mama was in trouble, he was eyeing that buffet like a beggar at a banquet.”

Alice’s dreamy smile resurfaced, which made me feel good. “Remember how big he got after he got hurt at the feed store?”

“ ‘Fatter than a fixed dog,’ I think is how Ronnie put it,” I said.

“And then he managed to take off all that extra weight,” Mama said. “Maybe Maddie should try whatever diet Ronnie went on.”

Alice shook her head. “Maddie wouldn’t want to do that. Ronnie’s weight dropped from sheer worry over that catering business. I tried to tell him we could get along fine with him collecting disability, but he wouldn’t listen. He thought all that new money moving into Himmarshee Links was going to make him a millionaire.”

“So that’s why he started the business?” I asked.

Lining up her spoon in the center of a napkin, she nodded. “And proceeded to pour nearly everything we had into it.”

“So Pig-Out wasn’t a success?” Mama asked.

Alice’s laugh was short, mirthless. “Hardly. Ronnie was at his wit’s end. Pig-Out was running through money like green grass through a goose.”

I thought back to what Carlos had said about Ronnie not being what he seemed. Could the failing business be what he meant? I knew Mama thought Ronnie was a success: She’d told me often enough she and Sal were paying a premium price for the best. And, according to Darryl’s stepson, C’ndee had also believed Ronnie to be a prosperous businessman.

Who else had been misled about Pig-Out? And how had they taken to being lied to?

_____

The crickets tuned up for their evening concert. The sun sank low on the horizon, painting the dusk with fingers of purple and rose. It had rained while we were inside at Alice’s, and the grass and the leaves on the oak trees glistened.

I took a deep breath of the fresh-scrubbed air. It felt good to be out of that house, with its dark rooms and reminders of death. It felt good to be alive. Why is it in the sympathy we feel when someone dies that there’s also a tiny voice inside that says “Thank God it’s not me?”

“Mace, you’re ringing!”

“What?”

Mama pointed to my purse. “And try not to be rude. You’re already on a losing streak.”

I fumbled, found the cell, and answered just as I imagined voice mail would be picking up.

“Yeah?” I said, unsure if there was even a caller there.

“Telephone manners!” Mama hissed.

“Is this Mace Bauer?” The voice on the phone was pure Ivy League.

“It is. Who’s calling …” And then, for Mama’s benefit I added “… please?”

“Anthony Ciancio.”

I’d thought as much, but I liked to hear him talk. He was the culture to his Aunt C’ndee’s clash.

“Tony!” Eyes on Mama, I put a big smile in my voice. “How nice to hear from you. Everything okay with the Ciancio clan?”

Mama lifted an eyebrow. I listened, and then repeated what he said to get her goat.

“So you think Mama and your aunt have gotten off on the wrong foot. They’re so alike, you say, that they’re really two peas in the same pod?”

Mama’s face darkened.

“You want to take all of us out to dinner? Well, isn’t that nice.”

Mama’s head ricocheted from side to side. She mouthed an emphatic No!

“Oh, yes. I agree. Dinner is the perfect way to get C’ndee and Mama back on the right track.”

Now Mama was grasping for the phone. I ducked and wove, keeping just out of her reach.

“You’re absolutely right, Tony. We’re all going to be family; and there’s nothing more important than family. In fact, my mother’s here with me right now.”

Mama put a pretend gun to her head, dramatically pulling the pretend trigger.

“Oh, no, we’re just shooting the breeze. You’re not interrupting.” I listened. “Well, if you don’t mind me suggesting,” I said sweetly, “then the Speckled Perch probably serves the best dinner in town.”

My mouth watered at the thought of fried fish with grits, hot dinner rolls, and collard greens. Mama mimed tying a noose around her neck.

“Well, she’s a little tied up right now. But I’ll tell her you extended a personal invite. Oh, yes, we’ll be ready. You’ll pick us up at Mama’s house. In an hour? Great!”

Mama made like she was tightening the rope, rolled her eyes back in her head, and stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.

“Oh, yes,” I told Tony. “Mama is definitely looking forward to it. In fact, she’s grinning from ear to ear right now.”

The noise in the dining room at the Speckled Perch was approaching full din. Bus boys scrambled about, clearing dishes. A couple of high-chaired babies screeched. A waitress rushed out from the kitchen, left arm laden with plates, and shouted to the hostess: “Eighty-six the cobbler.”

Dang. That peach cobbler was a specialty. I planned to reserve my second dessert choice, a slice of key lime pie, as soon as we sat down.

“It’ll be just a minute, Ms. Rosalee.” The young hostess smiled at Mama. “We’re getting you a booth cleaned up right now.”

Too vain to wear her glasses, Mama squinted at the girl’s name tag. Tracy. The hostess had probably been one of her Sunday school students, like half of Himmarshee.

“Take your time, honey.”

Tony had insisted on dropping us at the front entrance before he parked the luxury car he’d rented to drive south. He’d noticed the unpaved lot was filled with puddles, which I thought was considerate of him. Of course, a little rainwater wouldn’t faze me in my work boots. But I could see where Mama, sporting bright orange sling-back heels, might mind the mud.

As they prepared our table, I replayed getting ready in my mind.

“Don’t you have anything else to wear, Mace?” Mama had asked, as we waited for Tony to pick us up at her house.

“Let me go take a look in the Jeep, Mama. Maybe I’ll find a little black dress and Jimmy Choo heels in the back, right next to the paste bait for my raccoon traps.”

“No need to get snippy.” She tied a jaunty bow beneath her chin. The scarf was the same shade as her shoes and pantsuit.

“I thought you were never wearing orange again after that jumpsuit they made you wear in jail.”

She waved her hand, as if a little stint in the slammer in connection to a murder was of no consequence.

“It’s not orange. It’s tangerine, and I look good in this shade, Mace.” Admiring herself in her full-length mirror, she clipped on matching earrings. “Besides, all that was so long ago.”

“It was only last summer,” I’d said, more sharply than I meant to.

Why was I so cranky? All I know is that each time Mama added another one of her tangerine-colored doo-dads, it left me feeling more plain in my olive drab work clothes and boots. It didn’t help when Tony arrived, and let out an admiring whistle when she finally paraded into her living room. All I’d gotten when I answered the door was a flash of those beautiful white teeth and a somewhat formal “Good evening.”

I mean, not like I cared. I’d never be interested in a guy who spent more time on his hair than I spent on mine.

As if on cue, Tony and his perfect hair pushed open the door of the Perch. My mind returned to the present. An older couple was leaving at the same time, and the woman dropped her cane. Tony picked it up and handed it back, then held the door open for them to pass through.

“Thank you,” said the woman, who looked eightyish.

Tony gave a little bow. “It’s a pleasure to assist such a lovely lady.”

I swear she blushed.

The young hostess’ jaw dropped when Tony walked up to join us. The restaurant’s usual male clientele included ranchers, bass fishermen, and the occasional rodeo bull rider with the facial scars and busted-up body to prove it. We don’t get too many guys who look like male models in Himmarshee.

“Can I have you?” Tracy immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. “Help you,” she said between her fingers. “Can I help you?”

The dimple in his cheek winked at her. I’m sure Tracy thought it was adorable. “I have everything I need with my two dates.” Tony pointed at us.

“I’m starving,” I announced.

“Mace is always hungry,” Mama stage-whispered. “She burns a lot of calories driving her poor mother crazy.”

Ring, ring. Kettle to pot.

Tracy fell all over herself, showing us to our booth and making sure Tony was comfortable. How would it feel to cause a stir everywhere you went, just because the random placement of your facial features happened to be what people find attractive? With Tony—Mama, too—it was more than that, though. There was a certain attitude, an expectation of attention. Not conceit, exactly, but self-confidence by the truckload.

Suddenly a yeasty smell wafted out of the kitchen, focusing my brain on food. “Tracy, would you mind asking the busboy to bring us some rolls as soon as he can? My stomach’s growling like a pit bull.”

Reaching for her glass of water, Mama’s mouth was an inch from my ear: “Could you at least try to be lady-like, Mace?”

I leaned in to pluck a napkin from the table’s center and whispered back: “I’ll remind you of that advice after you’ve scarfed down two of those doughy nuggets before he even gets a chance to put the basket on the table.”

My mood improved once I got a beer and the bread. I offered the basket to Tony, but he passed. Probably worried about those rippling abs under that fitted shirt.

“So, where’s C’ndee?” Mama looked at him innocently over her tumbler of sweet tea. “Is she running late again, bless her heart?”

Her voice was cane-syrup sweet, so Tony couldn’t be expected to know she was taking a Southern-style shot. He glanced at his watch, which was gold and wafer thin. “Looks that way. Sorry. I know you ladies are hungry.”

I swallowed the last bite of my fourth roll. “No problem.”

Tony dialed C’ndee’s cell, and got voicemail. If his aunt didn’t show for dinner, I’d happily take the opportunity to grill him about her love life. Mama didn’t seem disappointed by her absence, either. She always did like being the prettiest girl in the room.

“We sure appreciate you taking us to dinner, Tony.” Mama dabbed a slab of butter on her second roll. “I thought you’d be tired after that long drive from New Jersey.”

He waved a hand. “I like to drive. And I don’t sleep well. So if I’m going to be up all night, I might as well be doing something.”

“I know how that is. I’m a very light sleeper myself …”

The woman slept like a ton of stone. As I sipped my beer, I tuned out the two of them and surveyed the restaurant. There wasn’t much competition for Mama on the female front. A few retiree couples from the RV park finished their early bird specials, the wives showing fleshy, sunburned arms in sleeveless floral blouses. A girl from Marty’s high-school class opened baby shower gifts at a table for eight. I wasn’t sure whether it was her fourth or fifth, but I did notice she’d gotten bigger with each baby. The fact that about half of her guests were also pregnant didn’t keep them from stealing glances at Tony. Studying the menu, he seemed not to notice the attention.

That scarlet-haired senior from the drive-thru was at the bar, wearing a skirt no bigger than a dish towel.

Elbowing Mama, I whispered. “Hey, do you know that old gal flirting with the bartender?”

Mama looked, and then snapped her head around quick. “Dab Holt. She must have moved back. Remind me to tell you her story. It’s a doozy. Please say she didn’t spot me.”

“Nope. You’re safe.”

I continued my scan. Only one woman in the place might have given Mama a run for her money. She sat alone at the last stool at the bar. She’d spun around, back to the bar, so she could face the dining room. Even at this distance and in low lighting, I could tell two things: She wasn’t from Himmarshee, and she was the type to turn heads. She wore sunglasses, even in the dim bar, and tight black leather from tip to toe. Motorcycle boots and a halo of blond curls completed the look. I saw the sunglasses shift just barely toward our booth. So even this goddess was not immune to Tony’s chick-magnet looks. I nearly laughed at the thought she might think we were a couple.

“Why are you smiling, Mace?” Mama said. “You said you’re sick of Teensy stories.”

“Sorry, what?”

“His little top hat for the wedding.”

I tuned back into the table talk, rolling my eyes at Tony. “That’s not the worst of it. Has she told you that the dog is the ring bearer?”

He burst out laughing. “No way!” He had a really nice laugh.

“Yes, way.” I chuckled, and Mama laughed, too.

“What’s so funny?”

The voice at my shoulder was cold enough to re-frost my beer mug.

“Well, hey, Carlos. Mace, honey, look who’s here!” Kicking me under the table, Mama signaled me to brush the bangs out of my eyes.

I could feel my face turning red. Carlos was the one with the rude tone of voice, so I don’t know why I felt guilty. It’s not like Tony and I had been making out in the booth. I grabbed the bread basket and held it up.

“Dinner roll?” I said.

“I’m not hungry.” He scowled.

Before I could ask why he was in a dining establishment if he didn’t intend to dine, Carlos said, “I’m meeting someone.”

Mama kicked me again. When I didn’t open my mouth, she said, “Well, Carlos, why don’t the two of you join us for a drink? Is it a friend from the Himmarshee police?”

Carlos peered into the bar, and my gaze followed his. Ms. Sunglasses was watching our every move.

“Not exactly,” he spoke to Mama, but now his eyes were on Tony.

“Oh, sorry. Where are my manners?” I said, and performed introductions. “You’ve met C’ndee, Carlos. Tony is her nephew,” I added.

The two men nodded. Tony raised his hand for Carlos to shake, but he didn’t get up from his chair. And he made no attempt at the kind of friendly small talk he’d made when he met my cousin, Henry. He and Carlos faced off like two bull gators in the same small lake. There was a chill at the table, and it wasn’t the air conditioning.

“I better get going.” Carlos clipped off the sentence like it was costing him money. “Enjoy dinner.”

Mama barely got out, “Are you sure you won’t …” before he’d stalked away.

Several of the women from the baby shower followed Carlos’ progress as he made his way to the men’s room. Tony might have had the advantage when it came to classic good looks, but add in Carlos’ dark, brooding countenance and those bottomless-pool eyes, and the total package is hard to resist. At least that’s the way it seemed from the head nods and elbowing coming from the ladies at the table for eight.

It was a big night for beefcake at the Speckled Perch.

I guess my eyes were following Carlos, too, because Tony said, “Why don’t you go after him?”

“Me?” I snapped my head toward Tony.

“No, your mother.” The dimple winked.

“Believe me, darlin,’ you do not want to go there with Mace. If I didn’t know how old she was, I’d swear by the way she acts she was in junior high. One day she likes Carlos; the next day she doesn’t.”

She stuck her spoon into my ice water and stole half my cubes for her sweet tea. I glared at her.

“And how does Carlos feel about all of that?” Tony asked.

I traced a finger through the water Mama had sloshed on the tabletop. I wasn’t about to answer. Mama, of course, pounced like a left tackle onto Tony’s question.

“Well, it never does a man any harm to wonder a little bit about his gal,” she said. “Keep ’em guessing, I always told my girls. But Mace has taken that advice to the extreme. Any day now, I expect Carlos will decide he’s had just about enough.”

Normally, I would have made some smart-aleck remark, but my heart had jumped into my throat, and I couldn’t strangle out a single word. While Mama and Tony were dissecting my love life, Carlos had come out of the bathroom and beelined to the bar. Ms. Sunglasses signaled to the bartender, who brought two beers. She got off her stool, greeting Carlos with a big smile.

My plans to grill Tony about his aunt flew from my head.

Sunglasses offered Carlos her hand, and he enfolded it in both of his. And that handshake was a hundred degrees warmer than the one he’d shared with Tony.

I cranked the Jeep’s ignition in front of Mama’s house for a third time. It answered in universal car language: You’re screwed.

No engine meant no AC, and the June night felt like August. A drop of sweat rolled off my nose onto the steering wheel. I slapped at a mosquito siphoning blood from my neck.

Tony leaned his head into the driver’s window. “Sounds like the battery’s dead.”

Mama had caught a ride home from the Perch, while Tony and I stayed behind to linger over coffee and key lime pie, which I couldn’t even enjoy. Trying to act like I wasn’t interested in what was going on in the bar between Carlos and Ms. Sunglasses kept my stomach in knots.

All they’d done was talk, but that in itself was saying something. Carlos normally doled out his words like a miser with nickel tips. Yet he and Sunglasses were still there, deep in conversation, when Tony and I left the restaurant.

Now, it was late, and Mama was already asleep. Teensy was likely snuggled deep into his doggy pillow at the head of her bed.

“I’d be glad to give you a jump off my rental car. Have you got any cables?” Tony said.

I shook my head. I’d loaned my set to Rhonda at work. Her battery had been acting iffy, and I didn’t want her to get caught out somewhere.

“What about …” Tony started to say.

“Mama’s ancient turquoise convertible is in the shop, as usual,” I finished.

He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Want to pop the hood and let me take a look?”

And ruin that manicure? “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m sure it’s the battery. I can’t even remember the last time I replaced it.”

I turned on the Jeep’s headlights and asked Tony to tell me if they lit.

“Sorry. Not even a flicker.”

Almost all the houses around Mama’s were dark. Folks in a country town like Himmarshee hit the sack early. Only Alice’s window showed a blue glow, leaking around the edges of her drawn drapes. She’d probably left the TV on in the living room for company.

Mama did the same thing after Daddy died. For months, she drifted off each night on the couch before she could finally return again to the double bed she’d shared with our father.

“Can I give you a ride home?” Tony asked.

My cell phone lay on the passenger seat. I hated to call Maddie so late. But I also hated to ask a guy I barely knew to do me the favor of driving me twenty miles outside of town to my little cottage in the woods. I told Tony he could drop me somewhere close and dialed my sister’s number.

“Hmmpf?” Maddie answered.

“It’s Mace.”

“Everything okay?” She was instantly awake, a note of fear in her voice.

Having a teenaged daughter and a mama with a penchant for trouble made Maddie aware of what a phone call at eleven-thirty p.m. might mean.

“Everybody’s fine,” I reassured her. “My battery’s dead, and I wondered if I could borrow Pam’s car.”

Maddie took a deep breath, preparation for a rant. “I sincerely hope you’re not going to ask me to get out of bed and come get you somewhere, Mace. What have I told you about keeping a regular maintenance schedule on that vehicle? This would never have happened if you were more …”

“Yeah, I know, Maddie. More like you.”

“Responsible, I was going to say.”

I cut her off, or it’d be sunrise by the time she was through cataloguing my character flaws. “Save your breath, Sister. I’ve got a ride.”

“Really?” she said, brightening. “Carlos?”

“Uhmmm … no.”

“Who, then?”

I waited a beat. I knew if I didn’t tell Maddie, she’d only march out to meet us at the curb. Frayed blue robe. Sleep mask pushed onto her forehead. Hair in curlers. I figured I’d save us both from that disturbing sight.

“Tony Ciancio,” I said. “C’ndee’s nephew.”

Silence seeped toward me over the phone. “You still there, Maddie?”

Tony asked, “What’s going on?”

“My sister’s giving me the silent treatment.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story, Tony. Thirty-two years long, to be exact.”

Finally, Maddie spoke. “I certainly hope you know what you’re doing, Mace.”

“I’ve got a dead battery. I need a ride to your house. Tony has a car. It’s not that complicated, Maddie.”

“It’s always that complicated, Sister.”

The phone emitted the beep of an ended call. Maddie had hung up on me.

“So, it’s okay?” Tony said. “You can use the car?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “For free. But you can bet my sister will find a way to make me pay.”

_____

The three-mile stretch between Mama’s house and Maddie’s was deserted. Tony was skilled behind the wheel. Relaxing the vigilant posture I usually assume whenever anyone but me is driving, I gave him quick directions and leaned back into soft leather. The Lexus had a much higher comfort level than my beat-up Jeep.

“Listen,” I said, “I wanted to ask you something about your aunt.”

Distracted by trying to pretend I didn’t care about Carlos and Ms. Sunglasses in the bar, I hadn’t gotten to my questions. Tony tilted his head slightly, eyes not leaving the road.

“Do you know anything about who she’s dating?”

He laughed. “Now, that’s always an interesting topic. Aunt C’ndee has more dates than a calendar. She’s a heartbreaker.”

Which didn’t answer my question.

“Did she say anything about staying out at Darryl’s Fish Camp?”

“Just that she couldn’t wait to get out of there. There was some kind of bass-fishing tournament in town when she first got to Himmarshee. That was the only place with a vacancy.”

“Did she mention she was dating Darryl?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even know there was a Darryl. But it’s not unusual she wouldn’t tell me. C’ndee was married to my dad’s brother. After Uncle Frank died, she made some bad choices, went pretty wild. A lot of people in the family thought it was a sign of disrespect. I didn’t; but I did learn that where C’ndee’s love life is concerned, it’s better not to ask questions.”

The honey-colored glow from the dials on the dashboard lit Tony’ chiseled features. His face looked honest enough to replace Lincoln’s on the penny.

“So, you didn’t know anything about her running around with Ronnie Hodges, either?”

Surprise flickered on his face. “What?”

“Ronnie,” I said. “The murder victim.”

“Good god, no! Where’d you hear that?”

I didn’t want to tell Tony the information came from Rabe. For some reason, I felt protective of Darryl’s stepson. Not that he wasn’t big enough to take care of himself.

“Just around,” I said. “It’s probably a rumor.”

Resting my head against the seat, I closed my eyes. It’d been a long day, and I was tired.

Tony tapped the button to turn on the radio. It was the country station, playing “Is Anybody Loving You These Days?” He sang along.

My head must have had a quizzical tilt, because he stopped singing and asked, “What? A Yankee from New Jersey can’t appreciate a little Dierks Bentley?”

Good thing my side of the car was fairly dark or he’d have seen me blush. That was exactly what I’d been thinking.

“I’m trying to absorb as much local culture as I can. I like to know a place if I’m going to live there.”

That sat me up straight. “You’re going to live here? In Himmarshee?”

Somehow I couldn’t picture Tony eating lunch for the next twenty years at Gladys’ Diner. Taking his fancy car for service to Juan’s Auto Repair and Taqueria. Choosing his wardrobe from the Home on the Range Feed Supply and Clothing Emporium. There wasn’t a pink– or teal-hued polo shirt in the place.

“Is that so hard to believe?” he asked.

“Actually, yes.” I aimed the AC vent toward the window. The frigid air was freezing my former sweat drops to ice cubes. “Turn left up there where the lights are shining on that white pillar. You know, your aunt never said anything about starting a business here. How long have you two had those plans?”

Tony didn’t answer. Was he stalling, or just concentrating on the upcoming turn into Maddie’s neighborhood? Slowing, he eased the car left. “Which way now?”

“Left at the third street.” I pointed toward the darkness. “So? How long?”

“At least a year,” he said. “We targeted this part of Florida because the coasts are already overdeveloped. There’s more potential for growth here. With the new golf course and all, the south end of the county is booming with affluent transplants.”

That would make Maddie happy. If the owner of a full-service, event-planning business was projecting enough of a population spike that would want big weddings, birthday parties, and bar mitzvahs, then an honest-to-God shopping mall couldn’t be far behind. Unfortunately.

“Maddie’s place is on the right. The one with the porch light.”

He eased into the driveway, thoughtfully killing his headlights before they could shine into the house. I had to meet this guy’s mama.

Engine off, he leapt out of his seat and hurried around the car to open my door. He insisted on walking me to the house. Normally I’m all about equality. But I had to admit, being pampered felt kind of nice.

When we got to Maddie’s door, I said, “Thanks a lot for dinner, and the ride. I really appreciate it.”

I stuck out my hand, but Tony leaned in close and brushed his lips against my cheek. I’m sure the surprise registered on my face, because he took a step back and cocked his head.

“Hope you don’t mind.”

“No-o-o-o,” I stuttered, still smelling his scent, like tall pines on a wind-swept beach.

“I’m Italian.” He shrugged an apology. “We’re pretty affectionate.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“Sometimes we even give a kiss on both cheeks.”

“Not at once, I hope?”

He laughed. I could get used to the sound of that.

“No. We do it like this.” He kissed the same cheek again, lingering a bit this time, and then passed this close to my lips on his way to the other cheek.

“Hmm,” I said. “The timing must take years of training.”

“Not so long, really. I could give you a few lessons if you like.”

I put a hand to my cheek. It was so hot, I was surprised there wasn’t a blister.

I was just about to say, Yes, I like, when I noticed the blind in Maddie’s front window shift back and forth. At least she hadn’t flicked the porch light or turned a hose on the two of us.

“It … it’s getting late,” I stammered. “I’ve got to be up in a few hours.”

A smile formed on his lips. I had an inappropriate urge to trace it with my tongue.

“Okay, good night.” He stepped off the porch. “But think about those kissing lessons, would you?”

When I opened the front door and stepped inside, I was thinking about just that.