Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (22 page)

Huh. So that’s how it was, then. Elizabeth…and
Jacques
. He knew there’d been something simmering between them, even if she hadn’t fully opened her eyes to it. Why had he ever overlooked, overruled, overridden his first impression? The casual friendship those two shared. All that time spent baking and talking about recipes together. They had mutual interests. And what could he add to the conversation? “I used to play football a lot. Cool, eh?”

Rob saw the police siren before he heard it but, no doubt about it, the black-and-white car was headed toward him.

“Oh, hell.”

He pulled over and the officer got out and sidled up to his Porsche.

“Nice car,” she said.

And he thought, Nice body, nice lips, nice skin… But he said, “Thanks.”

She asked for his driver’s license. “You realize you were going close to thirty miles above the speed limit, Mr. Gabinarri, don’t you?”

He nodded then managed to shoot a warm smile at her.

She grinned back. Attractive lady, no doubt. But, dammit, not his
particular
type of attractive these days.

“No way are you getting out of this speeding ticket,” she told him. “And it’s going to be an expensive one.”

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut while she did all of her police officer stuff back in the squad car. A few minutes later she came back, notepad in hand.

“Here you go,” she said, scribbling down the rest of his ticket information. One that probably would have his insurance company tossing him in driving school.

“Um, thanks,” he said, when she handed the paper to him. He noticed an address scrawled on the top and glanced up at her in question.

She winked. “If you’re free after five, I’ll be a little place called the Silver Stallion, a bar about a mile and a half east of here.” She pointed to the street address she’d written on the page. “It’s easy to find. Any chance you might be able to swing by?”

He struggled with his answer. Not because he didn’t want to tell the truth, but because he desperately wanted his lie to
be
the truth. “I don’t think so, ma’am. There’s a woman at home who’s waiting for me.”

She shrugged and gave a good-natured laugh. “Oh, well. Lucky lady.” She waved him off but, before she walked back to her squad car, she added, “Drive back to her safely.”

Rob thought about that comment (as he headed south and still further away from Elizabeth) for another ten miles before pulling off into a gas station along the side of the highway.

“Hi, Miguel. How’s it going down there?” he said into his cell phone, but he was thinking:
I’m only about seventy minutes away. Tell me you need me back right now. I need a good excuse to leave Wilmington Bay for twenty-four hours and you’re my only chance, buddy.

“Awesome, Boss Man.”

So much for that idea.

“Hey, have you got any more of that Fourth-of-July topping?” Miguel asked. “That Hawaiian Mix? The Playbook’s dinner crowd is going crazy for it.”

“Sure, I could get some to you, though it’s pretty easy to make,” Rob said.

He explained to Miguel that the winner of the Topping Taste Test had brought a combo of macadamia nuts, dark chocolate chips and coconut shavings. The runner-up was the person with the candied pineapple bits. Put them all together and you get what they’d been calling the Hawaiian Mix for the past two weeks. It’d been Tutti-Frutti’s biggest hit since the contest, and he’d shipped some down for Miguel to experiment with at the restaurant.

“Why don’t I bring you down a tub of it?” Rob suggested hopefully.

“Nah, no need. I’ll get the dessert guys on the case now that I’m sure of the ingredients. You just deal with whatever you need to deal with up there. All’s well here.” His friend paused. “Unless you want to come back, Rob. I mean, I’m not trying to keep you away. It’s your place, after all.”

He thought about it, going purely on gut instinct. Did he want to go back to Chicago, or was he just trying to escape Wilmington Bay? Two different things, weren’t they? And, oh, the answer was obvious.

“Guess I’ll stay here a little longer then,” he told Miguel. “I promised Uncle Pauly, after all. But call me if anything comes up.”

“Likewise. And we’ll see you for sure in a few weeks.”

“Right,” Rob said. But, for the first time, there was no thrill, no satisfaction associated with this thought. For the first time in a long time he was rearranging his definition of the word “home.”

He got back on the Interstate, taking the northbound ramp, and began driving back to his hometown…at a very responsible speed.

* * * * *

ELIZABETH CALLED GRETCHEN.

“Hey, Gretch, any chance we could talk?”

“Sure, what’s up? Everyone’s been acting so moody lately. Must be something they slipped into that Lake Michigan water.” She laughed at her own joke then sobered up. “Is there something serious happening, Elizabeth? Something I don’t know about?”

Gretchen’s voice was so concerned, so very caring, that Elizabeth almost burst out with an apology for entertaining, even for a second, the idiotic notion that her best friend might try to sneak around with her boyfriend behind her back. If Rob even was her boyfriend anymore.

One thing was certain, though. She owed Rob an apology for what she’d said to him.

“No,” Elizabeth told her. “I—I just wanted to thank you for being such a true and loyal friend. And—and if you ever need someone to listen to you about relationship things, then I hope you’ll come to me.”

Elizabeth thought she heard Gretchen sniff on the other end of the line.

“Thanks,” Gretchen said. “But I think it’ll be a good long time before anyone’s interested in me. I’m glad Rob’s smart enough to see in you all the wonderful qualities that we’ve always known about. He’s a great guy. Gorgeous, too.” She paused. “But I don’t know if anyone is out there who’ll look at me that way. The men I’m attracted to…well, they have a tendency to think of me as their buddy. I’m too tall, too strong, too big-boned. Not one of those cute feminine women like you.”

“What?
Gretch, you’re totally beautiful! And not all men want a woman whom they can easily overpower. Trust me on this. You should hear Camden talk about Annabelle, Karate Queen Extraordinaire. He loves how strong she is.”

“Camden isn’t the man I’m attracted to, though. I’m telling you, this guy thinks of me as a friend and that’s all. I mean it. Every time I start to wonder if there might be something more there, he backs away. He’s trying to protect me from myself, I just know it. He doesn’t want to break my heart.”

Elizabeth’s eyes pricked with tears—tears of joy for two of her best friends who were about to realized they were meant for each other.

“Uh, Gretch? Is there any chance that I know this guy-friend of yours?”

There was a long pause.

“Gretchen?”

Then came a very small voice from the other side of the line.
“Mais oui.”

Elizabeth grinned and let the tears stream down her face.

* * * * *

INSPIRED BY THE new love blooming between Jacques and Gretchen, and by their heartfelt declarations (albeit not yet to each other), Elizabeth decided she should try to make amends with Rob. So she called his mother.

Alessandra Gabinarri greeted her suggestion with a whoop of delight and told her to come over immediately.

She also called Tutti-Frutti and spoke with Nick, who’d switched with Jacques and was working an earlier shift today.

“Nick, could you please tell Rob not to pick me up for dinner tonight? I’ll meet him at his mom’s.”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll tell the man just about anything you want once he comes in.”

She looked at her watch. It was one o’clock. “What do you mean? He was supposed to be there three hours ago.”

“Yep. But Gretch said he never showed for the first shift, and he’s still not here. He left a way weird message on my voicemail, though. Said he’d be ‘back when he was back.’”

Her throat tightened. “Did he sound hurt or in trouble or anything?”

“Nope. Just kind of pissed.” Nick paused. “But, hey, if you wanna contact him so bad, why don’t you call his cell? Speak to him in person or leave a message?”

“Um, that’s okay.”

“Why?”

How about: Because she was scared. Because she didn’t know if Rob would ever want to talk with her again after her little tantrum. Because sometimes love just wasn’t enough to overcome every obstacle.

“B-Because I’m running late,” she said instead. “So, uh, thanks for your help. Please just tell him what I said if he comes in.”
And if he doesn’t come in, then what? Will it be because he’s taken off for good?

“Okey-dokey.”

Then, thinking worst-case scenario thoughts, Elizabeth drove to the Gabinarri house.

* * * * *

ROB MEANDERED BACK toward Wilmington Bay, stopping at just about every roadside antique shop or cheese-n-sausage store in southeastern Wisconsin, and reacquainting himself with the native experience. Decided it was high time he bought himself a new “Badger” t-shirt and he’d been fresh out of salami cheese for probably eight years. He’d forgotten until today how much he’d liked them both.

As he tossed his J.Crew shirt in the back seat and pulled on his new Badger one, he wondered about that. Wondered why people let certain things go, even when they loved them. Sometimes, maybe most times, it was because they wanted to move on to other things. Finer, maybe more preferable things.

But sometimes that wasn’t the case at all. Every once in a while it was just because they’d gotten caught up in something that was different, but not necessarily better. Sometimes the original stuff was still the best.

Feeling unbearably philosophical for someone who was neither drunk nor wearing a white clerical collar, he sat on the curb in the gift store’s parking lot, bit off a hunk of salami cheese and tried to figure out what to do with the rest of his life.

His cell phone rang.

“Hi, Mama,” he said, swallowing.

“Don’t spoil your appetite, Roberto. We’re having a nice dinner tonight.”

He looked around his Porsche for a hidden camera. How did she always know when he was doing something wrong? Not that eating between meals was a crime but—

“Roberto?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know where you are right now, but I want you come home early tonight.”

“Um, well…”

“And you need to pick up some wine, too,
capiche?”

He groaned. “Yes, Mama, I understand.”

“Good,” she said, sounding fairly satisfied. “Red wine, please. And don’t worry about getting Elizabeth.”

Of course not. He could just imagine how Elizabeth had decided not to come and very politely extricated herself from anything to do with his family now and forevermore. He was probably in for the lecture from hell tonight on the subject of How Men Are Stupid Beings And Don’t Know How To Keep Their Women Happy. But, he wanted to know what Mama knew—all the better to be prepared—so he said, “Why?”

Mama gave him a you-must-be-joking huff and lowered her voice. “Well, because she’s already here.”

Rob jumped up, threw the Porsche into gear and hightailed it back to Wilmington Bay.

* * * * *

HE SMELLED GARLIC, oregano, basil and simmering tomato sauce when he walked through the door, but Mama didn’t rush over to greet him as usual.

He set the wine down on the table and was about to head into the kitchen when Tony appeared out of nowhere and snagged his shirt from behind.

“Don’t go in there,” his brother warned. “We’re not allowed.”

“Why not?”

“Just listen.”

Over the din of Madonna’s early hit “Borderline,” he heard the distinctive bubble of feminine laughter. Four voices. Four very different timbres. Mama. Maria-Louisa. Camilla. And—his heart hurt to hear it—Elizabeth.

He shot Tony a sideways glance. “What’s going on?”

“Female bonding.” Tony paused. “They’re cooking…I think. At least that’s what they told me they were doing when I arrived with the boys, though it’s just as likely that it’s some kind of spell-conjuring witchcraft. And they’ve been at it for hours. But—”

“Hours?”

His brother shrugged. “Oh, yeah. There’s something weird in the air tonight, bro. My wife’s been edgy with me since we got here. The few times I was allowed to talk with her, that is. It’s kind of a goddess thing, I think.”

Rob stared at him for a long minute. “What the hell does
that
mean?”

“Well, you know. Women getting in touch with their inner power and all that New Age stuff. I figure they gain energy in groups or something. Most of the time, when Maria-Louisa does it, I don’t have to see it. She’s at Hauser’s or out shopping with her cousins. So by the time we talk the next day, she’s pretty much back to normal.” He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Tonight’s gonna be a different story.”

“Terrific.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. A high-frequency wave of women’s laughter vibrated through the swinging kitchen door.

Oh, man.

About a half hour later, young Camilla emerged as the emissary of the female delegation and announced that dinner was about to be served. So, everybody had better wash their hands and sit down quick because the ladies weren’t going to stand for any “dallying.” Her words.

The kid was serious, self-possessed and every inch a Mystifying-Woman-In-Training. Rob got a no-nonsense glimpse of what Camilla would be like as a teenager and it didn’t make him envy Tony. Not one little bit.

Except…she was absolutely beautiful, even when spouting off orders. She radiated capability and intelligence and personal strength. And—despite differences in age, height and family background—she reminded him very much of Elizabeth.
His
Elizabeth.

Then the woman he was thinking of came out. She held a platter of hand-rolled ravioli and was followed by Maria-Louisa bearing an enormous tray of chicken Parmesan. Camilla disappeared and then returned with a basket of hot garlic rolls and a large mixed green salad tossed in a spicy vinaigrette dressing. Mama brought up the rear with a casserole of grilled vegetables and sirloin cubes covered in a zesty Sicilian sauce.