Ready for You (27 page)

“Are they forbidden too?”

“No,” she called as she started the engine.

He smiled and waved. Trouble, no. Double low down and dirty…that was only a requirement of their secret club, so really he’d be obeying her rules after all.

Chapter Thirty-One

“I’ll get it,” Max shouted when the doorbell at Chiara’s parents’ rang. With a quick smile, Chiara’s mom followed him.

“I did a good job decorating, huh?” Danny asked, showing Chiara the colorful sugar cookie. Max’s appeared haphazard while each sprinkle and decoration was carefully placed on Danny’s.

She kissed the top of his head. “Wonderful.”

“We should clean up before Grandpa gets home,” he said.

“You’re right.”

Danny knew her father well. He also knew his grandpa had been diagnosed with a heart condition and should avoid too much stress. Really Chiara wondered if her mom hadn’t finagled that as a reason they shouldn’t irritate him, which always upset her mom more than anyone else.

It had been less than twenty-four hours and Chiara already missed Rocco. She didn’t know if she could make it another three and a half weeks without him. She wasn’t sure anymore why she should.

“Mom, these are for you!” Max shouted from behind a huge bouquet of red roses.

She smiled. “Thanks,” she said.

“They’re not from me,” Max said. Chiara chuckled. “And look, candy too!” He held a two pound box of See’s assorted chocolates in his other arm.

“Would you look at this poinsettia? I’ve never seen one so big, or beautiful,” Chiara’s mom said as she walked in with the plant.

Chiara agreed with her. “Any card on yours?” she said.

“No,” Chiara’s mom said. “That’s odd. You don’t have one?”

Chiara shook her head. She suspected who had sent everything, but she said nothing while Max and her mom checked around for the missing cards.

“A secret Santa,” her mom said.

“Santa’s not secret and he’s coming in four nights!” Max said while Danny put the tops back on the jars of sprinkles. Chiara and her mom smiled and finished cleaning with Danny while Max watched the cookies through the oven window.

The next day was drizzly and Max stood at the window watching raindrops race down the pane, much like her brother Tomaso used to. Danny sat on the couch reading
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
, which Phil and Chiara had given him for his birthday. Chiara’s mom was still out to lunch with some friends, her dad at work. Chiara flipped on the Christmas tree lights, inhaling the fir’s fragrance before she curled up next to Danny and tried to get happy about her favorite holiday.

“Cool,” Max said. “It’s Shawn and Sabrina.”

Chiara jumped up. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Max said, running to the front door.

Chiara smoothed her hair and wished she wasn’t wearing her ratty old slippers as she followed Max. He opened the door.

“Rainy day Christmas elves,” Sabrina said as Max tackled Shawn. He and Sabrina smiled and they all said hello. Even Danny bounded into the hall to hug them. Shawn set two grocery bags down. “Hope you don’t mind,” Sabrina continued, “we thought the boys might like to make gingerbread trains. I baked all the pieces and we brought everything.”

“Trains!”
Danny said. Trains had been his first love and still had a special place for him, even though he now thought space and wizards were cooler.

“Can we eat the candy?” Max asked as they all followed Chiara to the kitchen.

Sabrina giggled. “Then you won’t have any to decorate with. But, if it’s okay with your mom, I have a little extra.”

“A little,” Chiara said before smiling at the scene. The four worked together pulling everything out of the bags and gathering the icing spatulas and spoons from the drawers.

“Mom, Christmas music?”
Danny said in a come-on-get-with-it tone.

Chiara turned on the radio, already set to the all Christmas music station.
“How about some hot cocoa?”
The four nodded and Sabrina started singing along to “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” Soon they all chimed in, laughing and piecing together the trains. Chiara stirred the cocoa on the stove and warmed along with the sweet chocolate milk. Maybe Rocco was right-- surely Danny would come around eventually. Her family and Phil were a different problem.

“Phil,” Chiara said as she opened the front door the next afternoon.
“Everything okay?”

“Sure,” he said, walking in.

Chiara shut the door and took a deep breath. Things had been going so well, their arrangements seemed settled, so her stomach dropped at his unexpected visit. The boys were in the back yard with her mom, helping clean up.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I got a last minute invitation to take the boys on the Niles Christmas train. It leaves at four-fifteen.”

“Oh,” Chaira said. Her breathing steadied. “Will you have them back for dinner?”

“Maybe we’ll go to The Ice Creamery after? Kids eat free on Wednesdays.”

“Suzy coming?” she asked.

“No, just the guys,” he said.

Chiara almost giggled at the uncomfortable way Phil said it. “Okay, Danny will be really excited. Only mini cones, though, they had cookies after lunch. And if you could have them back by eight…”

“No problem.” Phil said, scratching his bald spot. Strange, he usually only did that when he was nervous. The boys tromped in and shouted when they spotted their dad. He soon explained the plan and Chiara helped bundle them in their coats, knit hats, and gloves. She kissed them goodbye and thanked Phil again as they buckled the boys into their booster seats.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” Chiara said to her mom as she walked back in.

“I’ll be in the kitchen. Your dad will be home soon.”

Chiara nodded and jogged upstairs to her old room. She flopped onto her bed like she used to, giggling as she was about to call an off-limits guy like she had in high school. A lavender scent bounced from the quilt--her mom used one of those special rinses in the wash. Chiara tried Rocco’s cell first, but it went to voicemail, so she hung up. When she called his house, Sabrina answered. They chit chatted for a few minutes until Chiara got to the point.

“Is your dad home?” she said.

“No, he and Shawn went out with my uncle and cousins,” Sabrina told her.

“Oh,” Chiara said, not sure what to say.

“I’m on my own for dinner,” Sabrina said. “Want to come over? We could watch a movie too.”

“I better not,” Chiara said. She bit her tongue lightly, wishing she hadn’t said that. “Can you hang on a second?”

“Sure,” Sabrina said.

Chiara pushed off the bed and tread downstairs. She set her phone on the small hall table and went into the kitchen.

“Mom, is it okay if Sabrina Buffone joins us for dinner?” Butterflies whirled in her. Being a teenager had really sucked. She shouldn’t still feel that way.

“Just Sabrina?”

Chiara nodded.

“Yes, that’s fine.” Her mom eyed her before moving back to the stove.

“Thanks,” Chiara said as she ran back to her phone. Sabrina agreed to come over and Chiara smiled.

She still grinned after Sabrina went home. She had charmed Chiara’s parents; her dad went from scowling to praising Sabrina after she left. The boys came home shortly after, even more enthusiastic than their grandpa was about Sabrina. Chiara shushed them, not wanting them to disturb her parents, who watched TV in the family room. Chiara led the boys and Phil upstairs once they said goodnight to their grandparents. When they reached Santo and Tomaso’s old room, Max hugged her. She knelt in front of him.

“It was great,” he said. Danny nodded in agreement, his eyes alight. “Shawn, Eddie, Jake, Aidan, Ray, and Rocco were there too.” Chiara glanced up at Phil, who scratched his head and shrugged. “The train was all full of lights and we saw a creek and so many trees and it got dark and Rocco gave me a piggy back ride. And I had chocolate ice cream for dessert.” Max smiled, his mouth ringed in light chocolate.

“I’m glad you had such a good time,” Chiara said.
“You too, Danny?”

“Yep.
The train was awesome. Rocco knows lots about trains,” he said in a quiet voice. Chiara hugged him.

“You two need to brush your teeth.”

“Will you and Dad tuck us in?” Danny whispered.

“Sure,” Phil said with a questioning glance at her. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. They helped the boys get ready for bed and kissed them goodnight, leaving the nightlight on and the door cracked. Phil followed her downstairs into the living room.

“That’s quite a coincidence,” Chiara said as they stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“No coincidence,” Phil said in a tight voice.

“Thank you,” Chiara said.

“Thank Suzy. She convinced me to go. Look, he’ll never be my favorite person. But it seems like he cares about you and the boys.”

“He invited you?” Chiara said, her brows pushing together. She smoothed her hand across her forehead.

Phil nodded. “The boys like his nephews and his brother is very polite and well educated. His son is nice too and he’s good with the boys. Danny was upset at first and Shawn got him on the train. I just hope you’re not having a fling here because the boys are getting attached.”

“I…I’m not. Did
he
…” Wow, this was weird. Chiara folded her arms. “I mean, did you two talk?”

“Not really. He apologized for hitting me, but I think that was more for the boys. Asked me about Suzy and congratulated us. I guess you told him…”

Chiara nodded.

“Max forgot to mention that Buffone Construction will be remodeling the house. Lowest bid and he said Max and Danny can help with the smaller tasks if they want.”

“I guess I have a lot to thank Suzy for.”

Phil’s sardonic smile mimicked hers. “We’ll be by to pick up the boys on Christmas Eve.” He held up his hand in farewell and walked out, saying goodbye to her parents on his way.

Chiara locked the door behind him. She
stood,
dazed, facing the door then pinched herself. She wasn’t dreaming. Saying goodnight to her parents, she walked down the hall. Upstairs, she called Rocco, but he didn’t answer. She got ready for bed and tried again.
Still voicemail.
Clicking off the light, she snuggled under the blankets. She and the boys had to be up early--they were going to San Francisco for the day tomorrow. Smiling, she closed her eyes. Rocco would wait for her. He was demolishing all obstacles one by one. She squirmed with excitement. He had that effect on people.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chiara smiled as she opened her eyes to the sun peeping through the white curtains of her bedroom. She and the boys had a great day in San Francisco yesterday, surrounded by family, eating good food, playing games, and singing Christmas songs. Laughing too, especially at the stories of Uncle Rob, Grandma, and Uncle Max, who had to work Christmas
Eve.
Uncle Rob fit right in with everyone, like she herself did, like she hoped she and Rocco would be able to in their families.

Sitting up, she clasped her knees. No one had said anything directly, but Chiara had a warm, sure feeling she would see Rocco this Christmas.
If not today, then tomorrow.
Her mom said they weren’t going to the Buffone’s party, even though Isabella and Grandma were. Instead, they were having a party here with Santo and his family and Grandma and Grandpa Vitale. Tomaso and his wife had gone to Italy for Christmas--Antonia was from Milan.

Resting her chin on her knees, Chiara took in a quick breath. The only way her family would be satisfied was if she and Rocco married, preferably in the church. She was pretty sure he just wanted to live together. Maybe he was doing her a favor, maybe it was better if she never married again and had another baby.

She rose, waving her fingertips to the ceiling. All this round and round thinking never solved anything. Rocco seemed to have a plan. She’d let it play out then decide whether she’d join in. Maybe he could persuade her dad; sometimes it took a chauvinist to persuade another chauvinist.

Max’s high pitched shriek reached under her door. Laughter and running footsteps followed. Hopefully her mom had things under control. Chiara padded into the bathroom next to her room and began her morning routine.

By evening, Chiara’s neck hurt and she yawned a lot. She had corralled the boys all day while helping her mom finish the baking and make the ravioli, from scratch, roast beef, potatoes, salad, peas and onions, and antipasti. Her mom fussed around, putting out plates and glasses, while the boys stacked napkins and utensils.

“Mom, you’re putting out too many,” Chiara said. “There’re only twelve of us.”

“Better too many than too few,” her mom said.

Chiara shrugged and went back into the kitchen. Her dad came home first, soon followed by Grandma and Grandpa Vitale. The three settled in their usual spots on the sofa as Chiara placed the tray of antipasti on the coffee table. Max and Danny brought in bowls of pastel mints and peppermint candies before being waylaid by their grandparents, who liked to hear about school and what the boys told Santa Claus. Santo and his family arrived and the girls soon lounged in the family room with their iPods and cell phones while trying to shoo Max and Danny away.

“Bobbie, can’t you talk to them,” Santo said, motioning to the girls. He rolled his eyes at Chiara and followed her back into the kitchen. Her mom was in the living room now, so the kitchen was her best escape. “Me, with three girls,” Santo said.
“Like I didn’t have enough grief from you and Isabella.”

“Get over it,” Chiara said, swatting his hand as he picked a piece of roast beef off the platter. “It’s rough being a teenage girl. Try having some sympathy.”

“Ha. I’m in for a lifetime of trouble, if you’re any indication.”

Chiara folded her arms and leaned on the counter, waiting until he met her wicked stare. “I’m not doing anything wrong. Matter of fact, I’ve been missing time with the man I love trying to please the likes of Dad and you.”

“Love?
Oh lord.” Santo shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Support me.” It was hard to stay mad with all the buttery, savory, holiday smells drifting through the room and the tender flash in her brother’s eyes.

“He’s not good enough for you,” Santo said.

“He’s enough,” Chiara said in a quiet voice.

Santo searched her eyes. He kissed her forehead then went to the doorway. “For Jen,” he whispered. “And you, sweet girl.” Long ago memories, brief and incomplete, flooded Chiara’s mind for a moment. As a toddling little girl, as a quaking five year old on the first day of school, that was what Santo had called her. “But if he hurts you…” he said, his voice back to its hard timbre.

“I love you, big brother,” Chiara said to his back before he walked down the hall, disappearing into the family room.

“Mom,” Max said as he ran in. “I’m hungry.”

“Help me put the rest of the food out and we’ll eat.” She pointed to the bowl of peas and onions, which Max lifted in his small hands and, with careful steps, walked into the dining room. Chiara grabbed the potatoes and beef and followed. Soon, the table was full and Max made the announcement.

“Are we in time for dinner?” Grandma Leonora’s voice blazed down the hall.

“Yes, Mama,” Chiara’s mom called as everyone lined up around the table.

Chiara craned her neck to see if Isabella was here too. She was, along with the whole Buffone family, including Rocco. She glanced at her father, who stood near her by the sofa, and wondered which of their faces was redder. Chiara’s mom smiled, though. From her response, she must have known they were coming. It explained the extra dishes and food, too.

“Chiara Luna Vitale, is this
your
doing? We had an arrangement,” her father said in a demanding tone.

“I didn’t--”

“Son,” Grandpa Vitale said. “Is this the way I raised you to greet guests? I invited them, since you didn’t. My granddaughter has a nice Italian man in love with her, from a good family, has a steady job,
owns
his own home. What more do you want?”

For the first time in Chiara’s memory, Chiara’s dad seemed ashamed. He lowered his eyes and muttered.

Chiara laughed, the tension of the last months bursting out in her uncontrolled giggles. Meanwhile, Chiara’s mom had welcomed everyone and gotten the kids started on plates of food, which they began taking into the kids’ tables set up in the family room. Talk punctuated Chiara’s deep breaths as she tried to calm herself.

Grandma Vitale whacked Grandpa’s arm. “What more?” she asked in her loudest voice. “She needs to get married in the church, that’s what!”

Chiara stopped laughing and wished for a glass of ice water to cool her burning body. Rocco’s manly scent made her plop onto the arm of the sofa and hold onto it.

“Mrs. Vitale, you took the words right out of my mouth,” he said in his deep, too charming voice. The
room hushed save
for the clink of plates and glasses from the other room. Chiara fingered her throat and met his eyes. They were full of mischief and laughter.

“Don’t,” she said.

“Chiara, I love you,” he said, clasping her hand. “Will you marry me?”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Next month you can,” he said.

“The boys--”

“I already asked.” He grinned.

She stood and tried to fold her arms but he wouldn’t let go. “Just because my family wants this doesn’t mean you have to ask. I’ll come live with you. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.
Stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m not. You are and you’re sneaky.” She pouted and he chuckled.

“Leonora, I’m going to need those after all,” he said. Chiara rolled her eyes but widened them in shock when he clapped handcuffs on her wrists. They were cold and dug into her skin. “You’re under arrest,” he said.

“Oww.
What for?”
She had to hear this.

“Stealing my heart.”

Isabella groaned and Chiara laughed. “That’s right up there with ‘Where have you been all my life.’ Surely these tired lines don’t work for you.”

“Only try ‘em on you. I’m not letting you go until you say you’ll marry me.”

Chiara hefted her arms over his neck and kissed him. Talking had started again and plates had food loaded on. “You really want to get married?”

“Yes, to you,” he said.

“Then yes, I will,” she said. “I love you.”

He smiled again and lifted her arms, unlocking the handcuffs. Holding her hand, he slid a sparkling diamond ring onto her finger. She smiled and stayed his other hand, in which the handcuffs dangled.

“Give those here,” she whispered. “It’s my turn later.” She led him to the hall and placed them in her purse. The kids laughed in the family room and her two grandmas dominated the voices in the other rooms. He kissed her again, deep and long.

“My dirty girl,” he whispered as their lips parted.

“Dirty husband,” she replied in a throaty tone.

He chuckled. “Double dirty, now and forever.”

“Approved,” she said.

He squeezed her into a hug. With a quick kiss and a pat on each other’s rears, they turned strolled arm in arm to receive the congratulations of their families.