Our Kind of Love (34 page)

‘Listen, Anna. No matter what’s happened with Joe, you’re still welcome in our house. You’re one of the family. Don’t stay away.’

One of the family.

‘I know and thank you. Keep well. Plenty of rest. Call me if anything worries you.’ She kissed Julia on each cheek.

‘Hey Julia,’ Grace called over the counter as she hung up on her call. ‘How’s that baby?’

‘Great, and thanks for opening the door for me this morning.’

‘No trouble.’ Grace said. ‘We do things like that for our favourites, but don’t let anyone else know.’

‘I’ll send you the date for the party,’ Julia called as the screen door closed behind her and she blipped her car unlocked. ‘Please come for the weekend.’

‘A date?’ Grace watched through the venetian blinds as Julia drove away.

‘Not a date.
The
date. They’ve asked me down to Middle Point again.’

‘You going?’

Anna shrugged.

‘It’s about that guy, isn’t it. I knew it.’ Grace folded her arms. ‘The one from the engagement party. James Bond.’

‘It isn’t anymore.’ Needing the solace of her own company, Anna went back into her consulting room. She needed some space before her full day of patients and, shoot me now, her regular Wednesday night dinner at her parents.

She pressed the intercom on the phone. ‘Graciella, little sister. Could you please bring me a double espresso with eight sugars?’

Anna glanced over to her parents’ dining table and gritted her teeth.

Who the hell was that?

There was a stranger sitting in Alex’s seat at her parents’ table. A man, to be exact. The seat that had been Alex’s for the duration of their courtship and marriage and had been empty for many months.

Except tonight it was occupied. Her parents, her Nonna, Grace and Luca all turned to look at her. This was supposed to be the Morelli family’s regular Wednesday night dinner. She was late, as usual but everything else felt off-kilter. Grace had her chin propped in her hand and was half-heartedly chewing on an olive. Nonna looked fresher faced than usual, oh my God, was that lipstick on her lips? Her father was wearing his good tie – his only tie – and her mother seemed to be wearing one of her best dresses. Anna gave her head a little shake. Sequins and floaty chiffon on a Wednesday night?

‘Ma. Dad. Nonna.’ Anna took slow steps to the table and her mother jumped up from her seat.

‘Anna, what took you so long? This is Carlo. Carlo Alessini.’

Carlo folded his tall frame out of his chair, smiled at Anna and held out his hand.

‘He’s a lawyer,’ her father announced before either of them could even say hello to each other.

‘A successful one,’ her mother chimed in.

Anna wanted to smack herself in the head. And follow it up with a hand across the back of Luca’s to pay him back for the sucked-in grin he was giving her.

‘Hello Carlo. Nice to meet you.’ Anna shook his hand and they smiled politely at each other. Okay, so he was handsome. Tall, well-built and wearing a rather nice suit. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead in a fashionable quiff and his nice, full lips liked quite delectable when he smiled the way he was. Objectively, he was quite gorgeous.

‘I hear you need some legal advice.’ His dark eyes twinkled in the overhead light.

Anna pulled out her chair and sat down. So he’d been briefed. By her parents. Good God. Didn’t they realise she needed another lawyer like a hole in the head? ‘So, you’re a lawyer.’

‘And you’re a doctor?’

‘Yes.’ Anna took in a deep breath. This was every Italian parent’s dream come true. A doctor and a lawyer. How had they conveniently forgotten that she’d already been part of such an ill-fated dream team.

Everyone sat down. An uncharacteristic silence filled the room. Anna felt like she was on stage and every spotlight was trained on her.

‘How are you, Nonna?’ Anna patted her grandmother’s hand.

‘Eh,’ she replied with a croaky voice.

‘Let’s eat,’ Anna’s mother commanded in a familiar refrain and Anna found a frustrated smile. Her family. While she loved them to bits, they simply had no idea.

Grace sidled up to her big sister and elbowed her in the ribs. Anna retaliated by cupping her hand full of bubbles from the sink full of water and flicking them across at her. Grace’s reply was to flick Anna with the tea towel.

This was a familiar scene, one they’d played out every night of their lives when they’d both lived at home. God forbid her parents should have bought a dishwasher. Being daughters, their job was to wash up. Luca’s job, as the only son, was to watch.

‘Look at them,’ Grace lifted a saucepan from the drying rack and rubbed it furiously with a tea towel, nodding to the table where Carlo was sitting with her parents and Luca. ‘They’re auditioning him. Trying him out for size. Seeing if he looks good at their table.’

Anna regarded him and decided, in a completely clinical way, that he looked perfect there. In fact, he’d look perfect anywhere. Handsome, tall, with dark, almost black hair and skin that olive colour that she’d only seen on men in fashion magazines or Italian soccer stars. His manners were impeccable too; when he’d offered to lend a hand with the washing up, Sonia and Paolo rejected it with an outraged wave of their hands and the offer of coffee.

‘He is gorgeous, isn’t he?’ Anna submerged another pot into the bubbles and began scrubbing.

‘Yes, exactly,’ Grace complained in her sister’s ear. ‘So why on earth are they setting him up with you? I’ve been single forever. Don’t you think it’s my turn?’

Anna leaned in close to Grace. ‘You’re not thinking like them. You’re still young with plenty of good, child-bearing years left in you. And child-bearing hips.’ Anna glanced down at Grace’s butt and winked.

‘I do not have child-bearing hips.’ Grace twisted and looked down at her backside. ‘Unless you mean like Beyonce’s, in which case I’ll take the compliment, thank you very much.’

‘Of course I mean like Beyonce’s. You see, Graciella, what you don’t understand is that Mum and Dad still think you have options. You’re not the older daughter, almost past her prime, who’s getting a divorce. They think I’m on the precipice. That I’m one blind date away from being a lonely old spinster. They’re desperate for me.’

Where had her tears come from? Although she’d simply been trying to make her sister laugh, there was a truth behind her words and it pierced her.

‘Anna.’ Grace’s arm was around her waist and she pulled her in tight. ‘They want you to be happy, that’s all. We all do.’

Anna sniffed the tears away just in time for her mother to emerge beside them.

‘I think it’s time for an espresso, don’t you, girls? And get the good cups.’

An hour later, coffee and cakes had been consumed and Luca and Grace had driven off with Nonna in the back seat.

‘Thank you for dinner, Mr and Mrs Morelli. It was stunning.’ Carlo reached out and kissed Sonia on both cheeks, shook Paolo’s hand firmly.

‘Thank you, Carlo. Be sure to come and visit us again.’ Anna couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stare in her direction. Sometimes, occasionally, she wished she had a different mother. Maybe a hippie mum, someone who was less interested in her personal life.

Sonia and Paolo then beat a hasty retreat inside, leaving Anna and Carlo standing together on the front verandah. A cool breeze was coming in from the Adelaide foothills and Anna crossed her arms in front of her to ward off the chill.

‘So, Carlo.’ She turned to the stranger and eyed him up and down.

He shifted his gaze from the leafless lawn to her face. ‘Yes?’

There was no visual detour to her breasts or her lips and he kept a polite distance from her, at least an arms’ length away. Interesting.

‘Tell me. Where did they find you? And how come I’ve never met you before? Our community is too small for someone like you to go unnoticed for too long.’

Carlo chuckled and tucked his hands inside the pockets of his suit trousers. Anna could tell it was quality. Its cut was stylish and trim, dark grey with a faint check; Alex would have coveted it. And then, instead of seeing Alex, she saw Joe in his new suit the night of the engagement party. It sent a wave of regret through her.

‘I’ve just moved here from Melbourne for work. Sonia must have heard it on the grapevine – I think my godmother is friends with her old neighbour or something – and before I knew it, she was on the phone inviting me to dinner.’

‘Ah hah,’ Anna said, suddenly understanding. ‘Fresh meat.’

I know,’ Carlo chuckled, and Anna noticed it did rather lovely things to his eyes. ‘There’s only one problem.’

‘You’re a vegetarian?’

‘No. Gay.’

Anna snorted and then laughed out loud.

‘You know what our families are like.’ Carlo lowered his voice and tipped his head to the house. ‘My mother still thinks I just have to find the right girl.’

Anna linked her arm through his, knowing her parents would be watching them through the lace curtains and analysing every move they made. As they began walking slowly to Carlo’s car, she made sure to lean in close, bump her shoulder into his arm. ‘Poor you. You’re not out?’

‘To everyone except my family.’

‘That’s tough. But you never know. They might surprise you.’ Her family had definitely surprised her with their reaction to her divorce news. ‘I mean look at my parents. They totally took my side, my ex is permanently banned from the house and they’re already trying to set me up.’

Carlo shook his head ruefully. ‘You don’t know my family. They are living in total Catholic-Italian denial.’

‘Poor them,’ Anna added with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘I thought you were too good to be true.’

Carlo found his car keys and unlocked his car with the press of a button. ‘And by that you mean?’

She looked him up and down. ‘You’re way too well dressed to be straight. That suit is incredible.’

‘I know, right? I got it in Milan when I was there at Christmas.’

‘So I’m guessing you don’t practice family law, not with suits like that and holidays in the old country.’

Carlo shook his head and smiled. ‘Company law.’

Anna rolled her eyes. ‘I’m liquidating my marriage. Does that count?’

‘Sadly, no,’ he replied. ‘But I know someone who might be able to help you.’ He pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket and slid a business card from it. ‘Give me a call when you’re ready and I’ll put you in touch.’

‘Thanks Carlo. That’s very sweet of you.’

‘Anna, if you don’t mind me asking. How long since you broke up with your husband?’

‘Seven months.’

‘My family law’s a little rusty. How long until you can lodge the divorce?’

‘We have to have been living separately for twelve months. Five to go.’

‘Good luck.’ Carlo shook his head sympathetically and held out a hand. ‘It was really nice to meet you, Anna. Maybe we can have a coffee sometime? Drive your parents a little crazy?’

She ignored his hand and reached up, throwing her arms around his neck. ‘I love that idea. I’ve got your number.’ Anna waved his business card. ‘Sorry about the whole match-making thing. I didn’t even know you were going to be here. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.’

Carlo shrugged. ‘Don’t worry on my account. I didn’t want to kill off my chances of a home-cooked meal. Your mother cooks like a dream.’

‘I’ll tell her you said that. Maybe I can think of a nice man to set you up with. Unless you have someone in Melbourne?’

‘No, I’m still looking for Mr Right.’

Anna sighed. ‘Aren’t we all?’

The big problem was Anna was beginning to think she’d found him. And let him go.

CHAPTER
40

Joe’s house in Sydney was nothing like he remembered. Had it shrunk in the eight months he’d been gone? It felt small, cramped in its small street with neighbours so close you could hear arguments next door and TVs blaring from across the road. Once he opened the front door and walked down the hallway, it felt like someone else’s house. For a start, it was half empty. He and Jasmine had agreed on splitting the furniture and she’d taken various bits and pieces, which left the house looking oddly mismatched. The sofa had gone but the matching armchair was still in the light filled living room, a pile of scatter cushions piled on top of it.

All the DVDs and the LCD TV were there. His books were jammed into a dark wooden bookcase and his awards were safely pushed back on a shelf. When Jasmine had left, he’d imagined it would be uglier than this. Plates smashed, everything trashed. But he’d just spent too much time covering court cases. Most people did it with a little more grace.

So he was back in Sydney. He’d flown in that morning and caught a cab right to the house at Bronte. He’d snuck in like a pop star or a fugitive, not letting anyone from his old crowd know that he was back in town, not sure how it would feel to skulk back after eight months in Middle Point. There were too many questions he didn’t want to answer. Too many memories to be confronted with and he wasn’t safe in the knowledge of how he might react.

They’d agreed months before to sell the place and it was time for him to go back, to say goodbye to it and sort out what he wanted. The clothes he hadn’t thrown into the car when he’d driven back to Middle Point last year. His books. His old files. His share of the household stuff that two people accumulate after years together. There were some framed photographs on the wall he wanted to take, given to him by photographer friends who played with something creative after spending all day shooting lame page three photos of attractive women using Facebook and all the other shit that papers ran these days.