“Why am I listening to you?” she asked. “You’re your father’s son. We have to leave now, but next time I see you, Anthony Paladino, I expect you to be more careful with your father. He’s not a healthy man.”
She was right, although Tony couldn’t see cutting him off from the business cold turkey. But he’d try to make both his parents happy. Which hadn’t been possible in thirty-three years, so why he should keep trying was anyone’s guess.
“Try the park again,” Tony said, as they were leaving. “Play some chess.”
“And you...go make me some grandkids.”
“Stop it.” His mother bumped his dad’s shoulder. “What’s the matter with you? He’s divorced.” She glanced at Tony and shook her head. “Don’t listen to him. Angie was a nice girl, but she was too modern.”
He didn’t say a word. Angie was from the neighborhood. His parents had known her parents for years. She wasn’t a great cook, but that meant she wasn’t competition for the crown of Tony’s Favorite, which actually made his mother like Angie even more. She was exactly the kind of girl everyone had imagined for him, but the marriage hadn’t worked out. At least they’d parted amicably.
When his folks had left, he had to make two more phone calls, and then pay a visit to a new customer in Chinatown.
After that, he knew exactly where he was going.
Exactly where he shouldn’t.
Where he couldn’t wait to go.
* * *
THE LINE INTO Ferrara’s bakery was long, but it seemed to be moving pretty quickly. Catherine had been there several times, and loved their pastries, but this evening she was buying for two. Tony was coming over.
They were going to take a look at her rooftop. Sal was still in charge of the renovations, but Tony had decided to supervise the restoration and the garden project. He’d told her he’d be there around six thirty, after dinner with his parents. She hoped he hadn’t had any dessert.
The line moved again, this time allowing her a great view of the glass display case. Everything there looked wonderful, but she’d already decided what she’d get for this evening: three different pastries she could vouch for personally. He was bound to like at least one of them.
Two women a few people in front of her caught her attention because they were speaking in Italian. She thought one of them might be her neighbor. Catherine had seen the woman standing on her front stoop the other day. It was obvious they hadn’t noticed her because they didn’t bother to lower their voices, or consider that she might speak Italian.
“That one has workers all day, making so much noise I’m not getting a bit of work done.”
She strained to hear the other woman’s response but couldn’t.
“For all I know,” her neighbor went on, “she’s turning that beautiful place into apartments.”
The conversation stopped when the person in front of them left.
Catherine watched them place their orders with the woman behind the counter, torn between wishing she’d heard more and glad she hadn’t. Of course they were upset with the noise. And she hated for anyone to think she would turn the beautiful home into apartments, but now wasn’t the time to clear the air.
The women paid and left without any sign they’d noticed her. Thank goodness. Once the construction was over, she figured things would all work out.
“Great minds really do think alike.”
Catherine spun around at Tony’s voice. His smile was broad, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“I was going to pick up dessert. For us,” she said. “For later.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Hmm,” she said, feeling awkward and pleased at the same time. Why she should feel tongue-tied around Tony when she could face off with Vladimir Putin, she had no idea. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing you’re here. I won’t have to guess what you might like.”
“What were you going to get?”
She shifted a bit to her left so he could move in closer, letting people pass him more easily. “No fair. I asked you first.”
“Technically, you didn’t ask, but it would be rude for me to point that out.”
“Wouldn’t want to be rude.”
Tony smiled. “There aren’t many things here I don’t like. But their cannoli are very good.” He leaned closer, so close that his breath tickled her ear. “Better than my mother’s, to be honest, but I would never tell her that. Ever. In fact, I need you to swear that you won’t ever speak of it again.”
Catherine crossed her heart, which remained inconveniently fluttery.
“Have you been here before?” he asked.
“Yes. Too often. I have a problem with pastries. I like them too much.”
“As much as Chinese food?”
Letting out a laugh, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t need to speak of that again, either.”
“Guess we’re even,” he said with a wink.
She had no idea what to do with that. It wasn’t a flirty wink; at least she didn’t think so. Not many men had winked at her before. She kind of liked it. Her heart sure was getting a workout, though.
Luckily, the line moved again, putting them face-to-face with the counter girl. “Four cannoli,” Catherine said as quickly as possible, anxious to make this her treat, not his. “Two lobster tails and two panfortes.”
While she’d been faster on the draw with the order, Tony already had his wallet out. “Put that away,” she said. “You’re the one helping me out when you don’t have to.”
“I’m an Italian man in a bakery where they know me. You want everyone in town to talk about how I let you pay for my dessert?”
“Well, that’s incredibly chauvinistic. Please tell me you don’t mean it.”
His shrug said an awful lot.
“I lived in Italy,” she said, “and no one was that ridiculous.”
“I think you’ll find there are many anachronisms in our little village. We’re losing so much territory to the soaring encroachment from every angle, I think the old-timers are doing their best to keep everything old-fashioned even when it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.”
“Fine,” Catherine said, when he pulled out some bills. She thought briefly about mentioning what she’d overheard, but dismissed the idea. “You buy them this time. But just the once.”
“I’ll even carry the box,” he said.
When the girl came back with his change, she barely looked at Tony. Instead, she was checking out Catherine as if there’d be a test. It didn’t surprise her at all when the young woman said, “See you later, Tony. And tell that brother of yours I saved him a slice of cheesecake.”
“Sorry,” Tony said, touching the back of Catherine’s blazer with his broad hand, steering her toward the exit. “I doubt I’ll see Dom anytime soon.”
“Maybe she meant Luca.”
Tony laughed. “Nope. Dom. Guaranteed.”
Once they were on the street, it wasn’t a long walk to her house, and the lowering sun made everything look golden and beautiful. She thought again about how he’d so recently taken over the business from his father, and yet, he kept showing up after hours. “You do know I can wait for Fred or George,” she said. “The list of things to be restored is daunting and I’m positive you have a great deal on your