Kyra glared at her. “You know what you need to do, Alexis? Get lost. Get the hell out of this kitchen, which is not a conference room. It’s a home. And this is a family. And we don’t need a professional closer to help us transition through anything. We are a family, and we can do it without your help. Go.” Kyra pointed to the door. “Go find one of your American friends and get a glass of wine and leave us alone. We have family things to attend to. Go!”
The woman looked down at her papers and sniffed. “I’ll find the others,” she said, as if it were her own idea.
When she walked out, Kyra practically fell into Anamaria’s outstretched arms, the two of them embracing.
“Cara, Cara,” the old woman said, patting her back. “Hush, child.”
Kyra closed her eyes and gave in to the ministrations just as a loud shriek came from outside, high-pitched and wild.
“It’s the boys,” Filippa said, standing up. “I’ll get th—”
“Braaaaannnnigan!” Gianni hollered, his little feet pounding the stone with the same force that Kyra’s heart suddenly hit her ribs.
He was here? He had the audacity to come here?
Everyone in the kitchen stared at her, their faces registering the same shock she felt. “I didn’t know he was coming,” she said.
Bruno took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “I’ll handle him.”
Anamaria knocked her knuckles against his shoulder. “You hide.”
“Hide?”
“And you.” She pointed a gnarled finger in Kyra’s face. “We get the truth out of him. He sees you, he lie.”
“What truth? There is no—”
The door smacked open, and the boys ran inside. “Brannigan on a scooter with no helmet!” Nico said, beaming with pride for his tattletale skills.
But Kyra almost fell over. “He rode a scooter? Himself? With no helmet? Up the mountain?”
Anamaria was already pushing Bruno toward the pantry, and she got a grip on Kyra’s arm. “You stay with him. Keep him hidden. Hurry!”
She pushed them both toward the walk-in pantry, and Kyra let her. It would be much easier to hide. She didn’t want to look into his endless brown eyes and remember how soft and sweet and tender his gaze could be…when he was making love.
She followed Bruno in, planning to stay long enough to hear what lies he spread and then, when he thought he had all the control, she’d come out and confront him.
“You keep him here!” Anamaria ordered, pointing at Bruno but talking to Kyra. Then, to him, she said, “You in enough trouble. Keep it shut.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a garlic clove and handed it to Kyra. “In his mouth if he talk.”
And she left them there, one little light overhead, the smell of basil and tomatoes permeating the stuffy air.
“Excuse me!” a man’s voice boomed, and Kyra got closer to the door to listen, but she knew instantly that wasn’t James. It was one of the Cana Hills people—the guy in charge, she guessed. Henry Wassel or Wesley. Weasel, she decided.
“They kicked me out!” Oh, that was fat-lipped Alexis.
“I’m getting nothing from this Antonio guy.”
A new voice. Kyra glanced at Bruno and whispered, “That’s the fake winemaker named Jackson or Franklin or Johnson. Some president.”
He just looked at her, still seething, but quiet.
“People, we need your cooper—”
The kitchen door flew open again, and every sound in the room stopped. Dead silence. Kyra pressed to the door.
“Where’s Kyra?” James’s voice was not angry, but flat, serious, like he meant business.
“She not here,” Anamaria said, no doubt squeezing that rosary and begging forgiveness for the lie.
“You can leave now,” James said.
Who could leave now?
“We’re not going anywhere,” Weasel replied.
“I’m James Brannigan, and I’m ordering you and you and you off this property. I own it, and you are not welcome.”
A chill danced up Kyra’s spine as she glanced at Bruno, who drew back, surprised.
“Mr. Brannigan,” Weasel said. “May I call you James?”
“No, you may pack up your stuff, get in your car, and leave this property.”
“You’re no longer the owner.” That was the president guy. “Here’s the contract.”
“Give it to me.”
She heard footsteps, paper, and the silence of a whole lot of people holding their breath.
“Uh-huh, yes, I see,” James said, and Kyra could picture him reading. “Excuse me for a moment. May I use your stove, Nonna?”
Kyra put her hand to her lips, the use of the nickname like a balm on her broken heart.
“He’s cooking the books?” Bruno whispered, as rapt at the drama unfolding as she was.
“I think he’s…”
A gasp went through the room, loud enough to be heard in the pantry, and the acrid smell of smoke drifted under the pantry door.
“Very dramatic, Mr. Brannigan,” President Guy said. “But I have a copy at the Cana Hills offices and with our attorney and another with your business manager.”
“Yes, my business manager. Then you’ll be interested in this, a document that proves he’s been embezzling from Villa Pietro for at least eight months, and you know what that means?”
No one spoke, but Bruno put his hand over his mouth and looked at Kyra.
“He’s currently under arrest in Positano, so any document he signed is null and void, and I am rescinding any agreement he signed to sell this winery to you.”
His voice rose until he was yelling, even though the room was silent. “Is that clear?” he asked, louder still. “Is that clear to everyone who is listening?”
A few people murmured, and some shoes scuffed, and a laptop closed, and some more people mumbled that they had to get some things from the office before they left.
“Did everyone hear that?” James repeated, his voice booming now.
And then Kyra knew. She knew exactly what he was doing, exactly why his voice was raised.
“Because I want everyone in this house and family and hiding in the pantry to know that this winery is owned by me right now, but not for long. I am selling it.”
She froze, sucking in a breath, closing her eyes as her whole body felt like she just fell off a cliff and hit bottom. In the kitchen, voices rose, in English and Italian, soft cries and loud reactions.
“You are?” Lorenzo’s voice rose above the others.
“To you,” James said. “For one dollar. Today. Villa Pietro belongs to you and your family, Lorenzo. And I will continue to invest in it and help finance the operation as long as there is a Sebastiani here.”
“Oh.” Anamaria whimpered.
“James!” The cry was in unison, from every other person in the room. Well, every Italian person in the room. She suspected the Cana Hills people were stunned into silence.
“He’s giving us the winery?” Bruno whispered.
“Yes,” Kyra said, blinking back tears. “I think so.”
“I only have one stipulation, Lorenzo,” James said. “One condition, one…thing I have to have to be happy.”
Kyra pressed her hand to her mouth.
“Whatever you want,” Lorenzo replied.
“When my wife and I return here, we always have a place to stay.”
His wife? His…wife?
“James,” she whispered, her hand trembling as she tried to open the door.
She stepped out of the pantry into the kitchen, vaguely aware of the reactions of everyone in the room but not seeing any of them. Just James, standing stone-still, staring at her, the hint of a smile almost covering up the fear and hope and, oh God, love in his eyes.
“That is, if you’ll ever leave this place,” he whispered. “If not, I’ll just move here so you never have to leave if you don’t want to.”
Slowly, she came closer, her gaze locked on him. “I’ll go where you are, James.
And that will be home.”
He reached out and took her hand. “I’ve been trying to tell you something all day.”
She smiled. “It has been a challenge today.”
“Anything good is worth fighting for,” he said. “Worth writing notes for. Worth nearly dying on a scooter for. Worth kicking out scum and fighting the bad guys for.”
She tightened her grip on his fingers. “And worth giving up the winery for?”
He nodded to Lorenzo. “It’s in good hands. But I came to say something else, too, and I’m going to say it.”
She nodded, lost and happy and bubbling with joy. “Yes?”
He searched her face, his gaze intent and pure and true. “I love you, Kyra.”
She bit her lip. “I love you, too, James.”
For a long time, he didn’t say anything, then he turned to Anamaria. “Nonna, do you have a knife? A good strong one that can carve anything.”
“Anything?” she asked.
“Anything…like a tree.”
“A tree?”
Kyra blinked, and a tear rolled down her face. “A lemon tree,” she whispered.
He slipped his arm around her, took a chef’s knife from Anamaria, and looked at all of them. “Exactly. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Kyra and I need to go carve something in a lemon tree.”
Epilogue
“Brannigan!” Nico barreled out onto the bocce court, bounding onto James’s back and wrecking any chance of a decent toss.
“Nico!” Laughing, James tried to peel the squirmy four-year-old off his back. “What are you doing?”
“Attack!” Gianni joined in, throwing his fifty pounds at James, too.
Kyra darted over from the sidelines to help. “It’s James’s turn to toss,” she said, trying to get a hold of Nico. “Why would you attack him, boys?”
Nico was still clawing, both of them trying to get James down.
“He tell us to,” Gianni said.
James sputtered and gave up the fight, letting the little guys take him down to the ground. “I did not,” he denied hotly, or as hotly as a man could when he was being annihilated by tiny humans. Mostly, he was laughing.
Gianni held tight to James’s sleeve. “You said ‘attack the opponent.’”
“In business and Monopoly, little dude. Not a friendly game of bocce on a sunny afternoon.”
Gianni gave a gap-toothed grin, hesitated a second, then launched again. “Attack!” This time, James went down on his back, and Nico jumped up, hopping from one foot to the other in unadulterated delight.
“They attack because they love,” Kyra assured him, placing a warm hand on his arm.
“Then why don’t you?” he teased.
“Later.” She gave him a secret wink. “Come on, boys. Nonna has cookies.”
Gianni was off him in a second, bouncing to his feet and grabbing his brother’s arm. Kicking dirt behind them, they took off, but James watched as they ran across the courtyard and into the kitchen.
“They love cookies more than me,” he said.
“I don’t.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly. “I love you more than anything.”
He threaded his hands into her hair. “Same, same, same.” He met her lips again and enjoyed the sweet, heady sensation of kissing in the sun. “I love you so much.”
“Enough to spend two months in Italy.”
“Best two months of my life.”
“James!” Filippa called from the tables where most of the family was still eating a long, late lunch, holding up a cell phone. “Telefono!”
“That’s Finn,” he said, standing and offering his hand. “We’ve been texting, and it’s been a bear with the time difference. It’s about five in the morning in Alaska now. C’mon. Let’s tell him the news. Poor kid is the last one to know everything in this family.”
“And the last one to deal with his legacy,” Kyra reminded him as she brushed some dirt off her jeans.
James couldn’t help smiling. “I really can’t wait to see him go down.”
“Go down?” She took his hand and walked toward Filippa, who still held the phone. “Maybe not the best thing to wish on a guy who inherited airplanes.”
“True.” He smiled at her and brought their joined hands to his lips. “But he can’t break the streak. Brannigans are six for seven, and Finn may be last, but that guy is never least. Come on, we’ll put him on speaker and officially introduce you two.”
With a nod to Filippa, James took the phone and tapped the screen, draping an arm around Kyra and walking off the courtyard. “Hey, Finn, my young boy, how are you?”
“Not your young boy,” he said with an easy laugh. “Any more than you are Perfect James.”
“For once, that stupid nickname is correct.” He beamed at Kyra, guiding her down a few stone stairs to a bench overlooking the vineyard. “I’m not perfect, but everything around me is perfecto.”
Kyra laughed at his bad Italian accent, but Finn choked softly in surprise.
“Are you still in Italy?” Finn asked. “How long can it take to sell a winery?”
“Oh, the winery sold a long time ago, but I want you to say hello to Kyra Summers, who happens to be the love of my life and your next sister-in-law.”
For a moment, Finn was dead silent, and Kyra and James shared a look.
“Hi, Finn,” she said, biting her lip, her eyes dancing. “It’s nice to phone-meet you.”
“You, too, Kyra. Damn, James. You’re getting married? Seems like I’m getting these kinds of calls from my brothers on a monthly basis.”
James laughed. “Do you see a pattern here?”
“Not exactly. When’s the big day?” Finn asked.
“We’re headed back to New York tomorrow to get Kyra set up with me, maybe find a nice place in Connecticut with a lot of land.” He squeezed her hand and watched the slow smile deepen her dimples. A lot of land. And many rooms for a growing family.
“So, the wedding’s in New York, then?” Finn asked. “When?”
“Actually,” Kyra said, leaning closer to the phone. “We’re getting married here in Positano in October, right after the harvest. We’re having a great big Italian wedding, and we want all the Brannigan brothers here. I want to meet everyone.”
Finn gave a hearty laugh. “And you’ll never be the same, but I think I can swing that. I…think.”
James could picture his little brother running his hand through his short, military cut, maybe rubbing a few-days-old whiskers he could grow on that big square jaw of his now that he was out of the Navy.
“So, what’s going on up there in Alaska?” James asked. “Did you figure out a way to sell those planes like I suggested?”
“I gotta say, James, these are decent planes. Better than that. He left me a de Havilland Beaver, which just happens to be the most quintessential, legendary bush floatplane ever made, and two Cessnas that switch out between wheels and skis.”
James threw a smile at Kyra and mouthed, “The man loves to fly.”
Her eyes sparkled as Finn continued.
“Osprey Air’s turned out to be a good business,” he said. “And while landing on a glacier might not have the same rush as doing a controlled crash on an aircraft carrier, it brings its own challenges.”
But James knew it wasn’t the challenge of landing planes on glaciers that Dad had in mind when he left Osprey Air to his youngest son. And he couldn’t wait to find out what was in store for his adrenaline junkie brother.
“Any women around in Alaska?” James asked.
Finn snorted. “Yes, there are women.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“Nothing against all you lovebirds, but I have no plans to succumb to this particular family trend that started when Dad died. I intend to remain the last bachelor brother standing.”
James just laughed.
“And what’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” James said. “Can’t a man laugh? I’m happy. And I want you to be, too. I
think Dad wanted us all to be happy.”
“Then he pulled it off,” Finn said. “I’m happy whenever I’m in the air, and the family group email has never been so chirpy with brothers who finally have their shit together. I guess we can thank the old man for that.”
“We can thank the old man for a lot of things,” James said, putting his arm firmly around one of them. “He definitely knew what he was doing when he gave me this winery.”
“Which you sold,” Finn noted. “Of course you do bow to the almighty dollar.”
He and Kyra shared a look. “Truth be told, I sold it for that almighty dollar.”
“Knew it.”
“One of them. One single dollar, and to the family who should own it.” And James never felt better about a business investment in his life.
“Hmmm.” Finn gave a grunt. “You think that’s why Dad gave it to you? To set the ownership straight?”
“No, Dad gave it to me so I could learn a simple lesson.”
“Which is?” Finn asked.
James took a breath and hoped his Italian was spot-on. “La famiglia è tutto.”
Finn laughed at the incomprehensible words, but then his laughter faded. “Wait a second. I’ve seen that before.”
“Amazed you remember it, Finn. It was on a little box Mom had and Dad kept around for a few years. It means…” James hesitated. “It means that you better be at our wedding, bro. You and whoever you want to bring.”
“I’ll be there alone,” Finn assured him. “Keep me posted on the family email chain. I have a foursome of seniors waiting to check a flight over Denali off their bucket lists, so I have to go. Congrats again, brother. And welcome to the Brannigan clan, Kyra. Any woman who could convince James to stop working for two months must be incredible indeed.”
“She is,” James said.
They signed off, and James leaned back, nestling Kyra into his side, the two of them looking out over the endless, gorgeous expanse of the Amalfi Coast. “You know what, lemondrop?”
She sighed and put her head on his shoulder. “What?”
“I never thought I’d say this, but I hope I can be half the father my Ddad was.”