Dare (5 page)

“Marcella, how’ve you been?” Ariella stood and gave her a brief hug.

Marcella nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Your daughter?” Marcella looked tenderly at Layla. Marcella’s daughter had died at twelve—she understood about loss. Much quiet comfort had been had in Grandpop’s kitchen, where Marcella presided.

“Yes. Layla, this is my friend, Marcella.”

“Hello,” Layla said with a wave. “Merry Christmas.”

Marcella waved back. “Yes, Merry Christmas.” Marcella nodded and hurried out, bustling as usual.

“Please, sit,” Grandpop said.

“Layla, let’s have breakfast.” Ariella sat back down on the wide sofa.

Layla, her new doll cradled in her arm, perched next to her. Joey stayed seated beside Layla. Grandpop nodded to Joey.

“What would you two ladies like?” Joey addressed Layla.

Layla pointed to one of everything, and Joey filled a plate for her, handing her a napkin and glass of orange juice.

“Same for me,” Ariella said. She fidgeted with her fingers, uncomfortable with Joey serving her. But, it was pleasant, too, an everyday, polite thing she remembered the D’Angelo men especially doing. “You guys still do dish duty after family dinners?”

“Yep. Sometimes, my cousins and I even cook.”

“I look forward to that.” She grasped her plate too tightly. Joe’s expression was still on the serious side, so she couldn’t tell what he thought of her statement.

“This is just a snack,” Grandpop said as they all ate. “We’ll have brunch later with Becca Polito and my nephew, Pete. Don’t know if you remember them, Ariella… No, they both went to high school back east. And Gina and Vincente are at Enzo’s with Lorenzo and Lita. They had their baby this morning. A boy, Angelo DeGrazia Calabra. We’re all invited for tomorrow. Enzo and Celeste are especially looking forward to seeing you, and meeting Layla. Today it will be a small group for dinner here.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Layla said.

Grandpop chuckled, but he eyed Ariella with tender solicitude. He must know she missed having family around.

“How big is your family?” Layla continued. She took a bite of the powered sugar pastry, getting sprinkled with the white powder. Ariella brushed it off with a napkin.

“There are a lot of us. My brother, Enzo; his wife, Celeste; my grandson, Vincente and his wife, Gina; my nephew Sal; niece Sophia and her husband Carlo—they’re Joey’s parents.” Grandpop nodded to Joey and Layla smiled at Joe approvingly, just like Maria used to. Ariella sipped some orange juice, not able to swallow easily. Grief was an odd thing, sneaking up like a cat, sometimes clawing, sometimes soft and purring.

Grandpop continued. “Then there are my great-nephews and -nieces: Joey, Janetta, Pete, Gianni, Lorenzo, and Lita. I hope for more soon.” He winked.

“Wow, you’re lucky.” Layla turned to Joey. “Are you great?”

“I leave that for you to find out.”

She studied him a moment. “You are,” she said with all the certainty of her six years.

“We are lucky,” Grandpop said. “Especially now you and your mom are here.”

Layla nodded. “We’re staying. Right, Mom,” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes, of course.”

“Eat up, young lady,” Grandpop said. “There are more presents to open.”

Layla brightened and concentrated on her food, listening to Grandpop explain what they could do that day. Ariella warmed, more so when Joey shifted, the sofa subtly carrying his movement to her, his spicy scent mingling with the savory-sweet aromas of the pastries and frittatas.

“Good morning,” a cheerful voice called.

Ariella glanced to the door, where a curvy, pretty woman around her age, her curly hair accentuating her Italianate features, walked in with a tall, lanky man.

“Merry Christmas.” Grandpop stood and kissed the woman on the cheek and clapped the man on the shoulder. They must be Becca and Pete. “Join us for a snack?”

“We’ll wait for brunch, thanks,” Becca said.

Grandpop made the introductions and Becca complimented Layla’s dress. Pete nodded to them and Ariella and Layla echoed Becca’s greeting. Joey stood, and Becca took his seat. She and Layla began talking about dolls. She’d made another new friend. Ariella set her plate on the coffee table and leaned into the sofa cushions. She glanced at Joe, who stood near Pete. Both were silent, watching Becca and Layla. Then Joe turned and went to the fireplace. He stared into the flames for a moment then bent and poked at the log, adding some kindling. Ariella sat up, clasping her hands. What was Joe thinking, feeling? Grandpop rose again.

“How about some presents?” He rubbed his hands, in his own way seeming as excited as Layla about the gift-giving.

“We have a present for you,” Pete said in an easy, slow tone. “Becca and I are engaged.”

Becca held out her left hand, where a sparkling diamond ring caught the sunlight.

Joey stood, walked to Pete, and shook his hand. Layla exclaimed in excitement and touched Becca’s ring.

Grandpop clapped his hands together. “Thank you. A perfect gift. Now, presents, eh?”

“Mommy, we need to get ours,” Layla said.

Ariella nodded. “Do you mind waiting a few?”

“We’ll wait as long as you need,” Joey said. His gaze was serious, intent.

“It won’t be long.” She stood, her limbs mellowing again, a deep warmth. Layla pulled on her hand. They walked out.

“Are they our family, Mom, like Uncle Jorge? I like them all a lot.”

“Yes,
mi niña
.” They had family. But could she have Joe?

Chapter Five

Joey watched Ariella once she and Layla returned to the living room. Ariella was more beautiful even than she’d looked last night. Her long black skirt hugged her curves and her red sweater showed a little skin, which glowed against the bright color. He shoved his questions back into a box, like he had last night. It hadn’t been easy. Seeing how prepared Grandpop was, as if he knew all about Ariella and Layla.

He rolled his shoulders and glanced at Grandpop, who’d again taken his place in his favorite chair.

“Becca, would you and Pete hand out the gifts?” Grandpop’s question, as usual, held a hint of command.

Joey glanced once more at Ariella. The way she watched Layla, her mellow smile touched with sadness, pushed a weight on his chest. Just like it had that night…

He faced Grandpop. “I’ll see you all later. My parents are expecting me.”

“I thought you called them last night,” Grandpop said.

“I did, but, you know, family tradition.” Which he’d been almost ready to skip, but not now, with the discomfort of remembering what a jerk he’d been… Okay, maybe not a jerk, but not himself. Instead of being a friend, a gentleman, to Ariella, he’d let his own desire for her cloud his focus on what she needed: comfort, security, maybe just a willing ear to listen. He rolled his shoulders. There wasn’t any way to go back. He could only try to be a better man now.

Besides, it meant a lot to Mom and Dad to have him and Janetta there Christmas morning to exchange gifts. Mom was already disappointed he’d cut short his staying with them while his apartment was remodeled. He’d asked Vincente to get his crew to finish up so he could have his space back. It was a bit too much family togetherness. And a bit too much Mom trying to push him and Becca together. Fortunately, Pete had finally made his move. But it wouldn’t stop Mom from trying with someone else.

Grandpop raised his eyebrows at him, as if expecting more explanation.

“Might be the last year, Grandpop, what with Janetta and Lee being together. They’re talking vacations every Christmas.” This year, though, Lee wanted to visit with Lita and the baby. Janetta said she’d rather be stuck at Mom and Dad’s than endure another whole day of “Babyfest.”

“You’ll be back for brunch at eleven-thirty.” Grandpop wasn’t asking.

Joey tensed at the command, but he could follow orders, especially when he knew they were for the best. And it was best to be near Ariella, except when he was weighted down with guilt and suspicion.

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Have fun.” He nodded to everyone.

They all acknowledged his leaving, though Ariella kept her gaze on Layla. As it should be. He raised his hand to Grandpop and walked out.

He kept walking, down the street, across the sidewalks, sunglasses on to dim the daylight. The Christmas decorations seemed almost shabby in the sun. He punched his hands together and lengthened his stride. This was stupid—he was in a great city, had a loving family, a good career, friends, a nice apartment, and his dream girl had come home.

So what was wrong?

Unanswered questions, unresolved guilt. Both roiled in his gut. Was he the interrogator or the suspect? Both, if he had to look at it coolly. Not pretty.

A few blocks from home, he spotted Dad walking along, up from the square.

“Hey,” Joey called.

“Merry Christmas,” Dad said, shifting the grocery bag in his hand. They exchanged a half-hug.

“Want me to take that?”

“I’ve got it, son. Your mom was worried we’d run out of milk for the coffee.” They walked up the street together. “I saw Ariella Linda and her daughter yesterday at D’Angelo’s Market.”

Dad got right to the point. Joey’s legs tensed. “Yep. They’re at Grandpop’s now. We met them while we were lighting candles for Aunt Teresa and Grandma Angela.”

“You remembered Grandpa D’Angelo too?”

“’Course.”

“Ariella asked about you.”

Did everyone have info he didn’t? He rolled his shoulders. He needed either some more gym time or a massage to work out those kinks.

“Nothing to say, huh? Strong and silent…maybe she likes that in a guy.”

Maybe Dad needed to quit the sarcasm. “What are you getting at?” He hadn’t confided in Dad about Ariella.

Dad stopped and placed a hand on Joey’s arm. He paused. “Look at me, son.”

Joey faced him. Dad was a good man. He tried. But was it courageous to brave marriage, or just reckless, considering the collateral damage?

“I was there, wasn’t I? And I’ve been here since, watching you and your sister. I know you care about Ariella, I think differently than you’ve cared about any woman before or since. Right?”

“So?”

“So you have a second chance. Take it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Not if you make it complicated. Knowing you, you want answers: where has she been, how does she feel… So let her tell you. Be there. Listen. She’ll tell you”

“Yeah.” He turned and strode forward again.

Dad kept pace beside him. “Your mother and I made a lot of mistakes, Joe. You can learn from them, like we’ve tried to. Seems like you and Janetta don’t want to get married. If I had anything to do with that, I’m sorry.”

He glanced at Dad. This was new, an apology. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”

“I chose it, marriage and family. And I’d chose it all again.”

Joe tensed his legs, as if he was in a crouch. They’d reached the block his parents’ house was on. No mini-mansions here, but typical San Francisco Victorian and Edwardian homes, with more modern ones sandwiched in between. The trees rustled in the slight morning breeze from the bay below.

“I’d better get in there,” Dad said, holding up the milk. “See you in a few.”

Joey nodded, watching Dad jog up the stairs, into the house. Dad probably knew he needed a few minutes to chew on their conversation. He stood near the stairs. The scent of pot stung his nostrils. “Janetta,” he said in a warning voice.

Janetta appeared from around the bushes on the side of the house. “Don’t narc on me, lil’ brother.”

“When have I ever? Good thing you’ve got that medical marijuana card.” She’d smoked in high school, too, but now she used it to help the pain from her fibromyalgia.

“Yeah.” She ruffled her short hair.

“That bad to visit the parents on Christmas?”

Janetta shot him a grimace. “I notice you didn’t go in with Dad.”

“How’s Lee?”

“As bad as Lorenzo about the baby. You’d think he was a new grandpa the way he’s been carrying on.”

“First-time uncle. And he was like a father to Lita growing up, so…”

“So, okay, do you always have to be so reasonable about everything?”

He grinned but his shoulder blades tightened. When it came to Ariella, he wasn’t reasonable, he was downright crazy.

“Anyway, what’s new with you, Joe Schmo?”

“Name-calling,” he said in the same warning tone as before.

“Do I need to sick my BFF Paolo on you?”

He held up his hands. Paolo, in addition to being a matchmaker, would subject him to worse straight-talking than Dad about the subject of Ariella.

“What are you two doing down there?” Mom called from the front doorway.

Joey jogged up and kissed Mom’s cheek. Janetta followed and hugged Mom. Joey stepped into the hall.

“I was asking Joey what’s new, but he doesn’t want to talk.”

Joey ignored his sister’s trouble-making comment and continued into the house. He inhaled. Fir tree and savory scents filled the air. Mom had all the lights on the tree and garlands lit, and Christmas music played from the living room, where Dad had a speaker dock set up. Usually, Dad liked to listen to opera, but at Christmas, Mom insisted on all Christmas music.

“It’s Christmas,” Mom said. “No unpleasantness.” She was a DeGrazia. They’d usually turn from an issue where a D’Angelo would face it. In this case, though, he was fine with avoidance.

“Yes, Mom,” Janetta answered in a too-sweet tone.

“Oh, you.” Mom waved them both into the kitchen.

Dad placed a coffee cake on the table. “Hope you’re both hungry. Your mom’s been busy.” He hugged Janetta.

“I saw,” Janetta said. “The fridge at Gramps’ is crazy full. Between Mom, Celeste, and Gina, there’s enough food to feed ten families, not two.”

“And the baby,” Mom said in a soft voice. She loved babies.

“The baby can’t eat food,” Janetta said in her usual sarcastic tone.

“Okay,” Dad said with a stop-sign hand motion. “Let’s eat, then presents and relaxing. Long day ahead, right?” Dad placed his hand on Joey’s back. Dad and Mom would spend the day doing the Christmas shuffle to the various relatives’ houses. That had been one of the things they used to fight about. Janetta used to sneak out, but Joey’d sit crouched against the wall, listening, tense and watchful.

His tension loosened. They’d all gotten through those times. Everyone got along, mostly, now. Ariella hadn’t even had that kind of security, once her parents died. He still couldn’t imagine the pain of that loss. His family could be too much sometimes, but they were a unit, and they tried to protect each other.

He put an arm around Dad’s shoulders briefly. Dad pulled out Mom’s chair for her and they all sat. Mom motioned for them to hold hands. Janetta rolled her eyes. But they all joined hands and said a brief prayer. “Amen” was followed by “
Mangia
,” just like at every meal.

Joey heaped his plate with eggs, sausages, coffee cake, and melon. The red and white curtains shafted with sunlight. The kitchen radiated warmth and safety.

“You’ll both be at Grandpop’s later?” Mom asked.

“Lee and I are having dinner at Gramps’ but we might stop in after.” Janetta poured herself a cup of coffee.

“I’ll be there.” He smiled at his parents. He’d be at Grandpop’s, for sure. He needed to talk to Ariella.

“Why don’t you come with us to Frank’s? Michael and Frankie will be there,” Mom said, her voice artificially higher than usual.

“You know Grandpop, Mom.” Joey shrugged and continued eating. “Delicious breakfast. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Mom sipped her coffee. “Your dad says Ariella Linda is back, has a daughter now?” Her tone was too casual, and still not her usual rich voice.

“Yep. She and her daughter, Layla, are staying at Grandpop’s until they find a place. He didn’t want them at a hotel, especially at Christmas.” He glanced at Mom. Her lips pinched. Weird. Mom and Ariella’s mom had been best friends.

“Oh. That’s nice. Carlo, wouldn’t you like Joey to come with us too?” Mom said. Even weirder: she didn’t invite Ariella and Layla over. Usually Mom would invite newcomers and friends of friends just because, and here she was acting all strange when this was her best friend’s daughter and granddaughter.

“I would, but he’s got plans already. He just saw Frankie and Michael anyway, when they all helped at the food bank earlier this month.”

“And we all play basketball every couple of weeks,” Joe added. And he and Frankie often double-dated, especially when they wanted to go dancing. They’d get dates good at salsa or tango and trade off. It was more fun that way. But lately they hadn’t been going. Frankie was busy at Uncle Sal’s restaurant, and Joey was focused on his career, often picking up an extra shift when he could.

“Well,” Mom said in a clipped tone. “See you at Grandpop’s then. Is everyone finished? I’d like to get the last of the ornaments on the tree.” She rose.

Joey took a last bite of melon and picked up his plate.

“Leave that, son. We’ll get it later.” Dad stood beside Mom. Something was going on. Nothing big, but one of those little tensions that might develop into something huge. That was married life, the part he wanted nothing of.

He and Janetta exchanged a look. So she’d noticed it too. They followed Mom and Dad into the living room, where a Bing Crosby song crooned away softly.