Deanna began to tell him—in Italian—all of the reasons why he and Sophia made a perfect match. Somewhere along the way she mentioned Rocco’s name, going on and on about how he’d given her two dozen pink roses on her last birthday and how much they’d meant to her. How she had hoped to see the next bunch of roses in a lovely shade of red, since red symbolized love. How she’d probably never get another rose from another man as long as she lived.
“You know, it’s funny,” she said, peering into Tony’s eyes. “You remind me so much of Rocco. You look alike, even sound alike.”
Uh-oh. Better stop this train from barreling down the wrong track. “Tony is from Sicily, Deanna,” I said. “No doubt he looks and sounds like your Rocco.”
She sighed. “Only, he’s not my Rocco anymore.” She dabbed her eyes. “Of course, I once thought he really cared about me.” She sniffled. “Now I know better.” Her smile quickly faded, then reappeared a moment later, this time more forced. “Anyway, buy the roses. She will never forget them. Or you. Ever. For the rest of her life. No matter where she goes or how many times you forget to call. Or write.”
Wow.
Tony, undeterred by Deanna’s odd explanation, nodded in Marcella’s direction. “I’ll take two dozen yellow roses.” He turned to look at me. “Bella, you’re sure about the yellow?”
“Sure as I’ve ever been about anything in my life.”
“Okay, because Brock said I should buy red. He’s pretty good with the women, so I took his advice seriously.”
“Wait.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Brock? As in Brock Benson?”
Deanna’s eyes lit with recognition. “Brock Benson, the Hollywood superstar hottie? The guy who starred in The Pirate’s Revenge?”
Tony nodded and then shrugged. “Yeah. We still talk sometimes.”
Deanna looked my way, clearly dumbfounded. “Brock Benson? Are we talking about the same guy, Bella?”
“Yes. The same Brock Benson.” A warm feeling washed over me at the mention of Brock’s name. Should I tell Deanna the whole story—how Brock had played the role of best man at the recent medieval wedding I’d coordinated? How the media had shown up and we’d all ended up on the national news? How the Rossi family had taken in Brock—a lost soul— and made him part of the family?
Nah. I’d leave that for another day.
“I’ll fill you in later,” I whispered to Deanna. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“O-okay.” She grinned, and we returned to helping Tony with his rose order. Still, I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about Tony talking to Brock. Who would have guessed those two would turn out to be fast friends?
We spent the next few minutes finalizing plans for Rosa’s wedding flowers, then Deanna and I hit the road. As we climbed into the car, my cell phone rang. I smiled as I read the words Bridal Boutique on the caller ID, then answered with a happy “Hello.”
“Bella?”
I recognized the voice at once. Stacey O’Farrell, owner of my favorite wedding dress shop.
“Hi, Stacey. What’s up?”
I could hear customers talking in the background but did my best to focus as Stacey spoke. “Your sister came in to be fitted for her bridesmaid dress this morning. She was the last one on the list, so we’re good to go to place the order now. You should have the dresses in plenty of time for the big day.”
“Awesome.” One more thing I could check off of the list, praise the Lord!
“I just wanted to double-check something before I place the order,” Stacey said. “Because one thing about it struck me as odd.”
“What’s that?” I reached for my keys and put them in the ignition as I waited for her reply.
“I thought you said your bridesmaids’ dresses were going to be a deep red.”
“Right.” I turned the key in the ignition.
“Then why did you write the word gold on the order form?”
“W-what?” I groaned, my thoughts suddenly reeling. Finally it hit me. “Oh, Stacey, I’m sorry. My aunt’s bridesmaids are wearing gold. I must’ve gotten confused.”
She laughed. “That’s what I figured. You’ve seemed a little scattered lately. Good thing we caught this before the order was placed. Would’ve been catastrophic, and I don’t think there would’ve been time to reorder.”
“No kidding. I’m indebted to you, Stacey. Please change the color to red and place the order.”
“Will do.”
As we ended the call, I scolded myself for having been so careless. “I can’t believe I did that,” I muttered. “Guess I’m trying to handle too many things at once.”
Deanna gave me a curious look, and I filled her in, telling her about the near miss.
“You poor girl!” She shook her head. “You’ve really got your hands full, Bella.”
“Don’t I know it.” I shook my head, deep in thought. Pondering the color of my bridesmaids’ dresses drew my thoughts to Jenna again. Thinking of Jenna caused a gripping sensation in my chest. If I didn’t figure out why she’d stopped taking my calls, I was going to go crazy.
I turned to Deanna. “Hey, do you mind if I make one more quick call? Something’s been bothering me all day.”
“Sure.” She gave me a curious look. “Everything okay?”
“I’m about to find out.” I punched in Jenna’s number and waited for her to pick up. Oddly, the phone went to voice mail just after the first ring. When I heard the beep, I left a long, detailed message.
“Jenna, I’ve been trying to reach you for days. I’m hoping you’re not sick. If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow, maybe I’ll swing by your place to check on you. I’m a little worried because …” I wanted to say, “Because Bubba is missing too,” but didn’t. Instead, I said, “Because you never do this. You never disappear on us like this. I’m worried. So, call me. Or text, if you’re too sick. Anyway, let me know you’re okay.”
I ended the call and tossed the phone in my purse. Deanna looked at me. “Still can’t find your best friend?”
“No.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I know just what that feels like. It’s so weird, not hearing from Rocco every day. He was my best friend.”
“Mm-hmm.” I couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to lose your best friend.
On the other hand, Jenna was now my second-best friend, since D.J. was in the picture. She’d slipped out of the number one spot the minute he slipped that engagement ring on my finger. Surely she wasn’t upset about that though, right? If so, she’d done a great job of hiding it till now.
More concerned than ever, I pointed the car toward home.
10
You Made Me Love You
On Wednesday morning, I finished up my shopping for the wedding with Deanna at my side. She particularly enjoyed our local Walmart, still carrying on about how she wished they had one in Napoli. Francesca came with us, but she didn’t look as impressed. Perhaps before all was said and done, I could take her up to Houston to see the Galleria. It was always so beautiful at this time of the year. Likely she’d be more at home there, with the high-end shops and large ice-skating rink in the hub of it all. And the Christmas tree in the center of the ice always made it very conversational.
I pressed back the smile as I tried to imagine Francesca and Emilio ice-skating together. What would it be like to marry a man twenty-five-plus years your senior?
No time to dwell on that right now, not with so much to do. I had some last-minute purchases to make for Rosa’s reception, including several bolts of fabric to use as a backdrop and gold lamé to use under the centerpieces.
I headed off to the fabric department with Deanna in tow. Francesca settled into a booth at the nail salon, thrilled to finally get her mani and pedi. As I left her, she was trying to converse with a woman whose English was limited at best. Funny, watching a woman from Italy trying to talk to a woman from Asia using the English language as a middle ground. Somehow they made it work.
Deann
a and I arrived in the fabric department a couple of minutes later. “I don’t want to spend much time in here,” I explained. “We’ve got to get over to the state park to meet the others in forty-five minutes.”
“Do you think Francesca’s nails will be dry by then?” Deanna asked, grinning.
“Who knows? But we don’t want to miss this.”
“I think a picnic at the beach is a great idea,” Deanna said. “There’s something about the water that’s very healing.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I turned to her. “I feel exactly the same way. Whenever I get really down, I go to the water’s edge and just sit in the sand and pray. Or walk. I can’t explain it, but the rise and fall of the waves … well, it does something to me.”
“Me too.” She nodded and gave me a funny look. “You know, Bella, for two people who’ve hardly ever seen each other, we sure have a lot in common.”
“Yeah, we do.” I smiled at her, not wanting to let the moment slip away from me. “And in case I haven’t said it, I’m so glad you were able to come for Rosa’s wedding. It means the world to her … and to me.”
“You’ll have to come see me next time,” Deanna said. “I can introduce you to—” She stopped herself short of saying Rocco’s name, her eyes filling with tears. She put a hand over her mouth, then pulled it away. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting. I’m not dating Rocco anymore, so I can’t introduce you to him.”
“Still …” I tried to make the best of this. “Maybe someday I’ll come to see you and you can show me all of your favorite stores.” I gestured to the women’s underwear department. “Like I’m doing for you. Treating you to the local culture.”
She laughed. “It’s a deal.”
I found the gold lamé at once. I was eyeing the shimmering fabric as Deanna turned my way, her brow wrinkled.
“What’s up?” I asked. “Something wrong?”
“Well, not really. I’ve wanted to ask you something for a couple of days, but I keep forgetting.”
I reached for the bolt of fabric and picked it up. “What is it?”
“Have you noticed something a little … I don’t know … odd going on at the house?”
“What do you mean?” I shifted the bolt to the basket and wheeled it toward the cutting table. “Something to do with Francesca?”
“No. Sal.”
“Sal?” I carried the bolt of fabric to the counter and plopped it down. “What about him?”
Deanna’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think he cares much for Rosa, and I get the feeling Emilio doesn’t either.”
“Funny.” I paused, remembering the look I’d seen on Sal’s face Monday at the restaurant. It had raised red flags, but I couldn’t say why for sure. If Sal didn’t care for Rosa, it couldn’t be blamed on anything she had done. She’d been nothing but kind to him. I hadn’t really noticed anything obvious— other than their initial greeting—but maybe Deanna was onto something here. Sal had seemed a little cold at the restaurant, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t exactly warmed up to Rosa, no matter how hard she’d tried.
I looked Deanna in the eye. “Tell me what you know.”
“Well …” She paused, and her gaze shifted to the ground. “Maybe I’m betraying a confidence here … I don’t know. I just heard Mama and Aunt Bianca talking, and they mentioned Sal saying something inappropriate when Rosa was in the kitchen.”
“Inappropriate how?”
Just then, the woman who cut the fabric returned to the table. “Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “They needed me for a price check. How many yards?”
“Hmm. Ten, I think. No, fifteen.” I paused. “Better make that eighteen.”
“Honey, I doubt there’s that much on the bolt.”
“Well, whatever you have, then.”
She went to work measuring, and I turned back to Deanna, who pursed her lips.
“I hate to even repeat this,” she whispered. “Since I didn’t hear it for myself.”
“Didn’t hear what?”
For a moment I thought she wouldn’t say, but she finally coughed it up. “Mama said that Sal called Rosa a heifer.”
“W-what?” I stared at her, shocked. “You don’t mean that.”
“I know, it’s awful.” She shifted to Italian as a family with young children passed by. “I asked Mama twice, just to make sure I heard right. She said it could have been taken a couple of different ways, but there was no doubting his meaning. He thinks Rosa is all wrong for Laz.”
“How dare he!” I went into a tirade—right there in the fabric department in Walmart—about how Sal Lucci had no business butting into my family’s affairs. How Rosa had waited for Laz’s affections for fifty years. How she’d finally won his heart, not with her outer beauty, but her inner beauty. And her cooking, of course.
The lady cutting my fabric looked up, concerned. Maybe she thought I was having it out with Deanna or something. I lowered my voice but continued to rant, hardly pausing to take a breath.
Deanna listened to all of this in silence. When I stopped, she nodded. “I know, Bella. I feel the same way. And you should’ve heard Mama. She was beside herself. And Aunt Bianca wanted to tell Rosa what they’d heard.”
“No!” I shook my head. “Never!”
“That’s what I said. So Mama and Bianca didn’t breathe a word.” Deanna paused a moment. “I’ve been worried they might tell your mama.”
“Man, I hope not.” I knew my mother to be one of the godliest women ever, but when it came to her family, sometimes her claws came out. She was sure to do Sal mortal harm once she heard this news. No, we couldn’t let her know. Or Pop. He would forbid Sal from entering our home.
I stopped to think about what a conundrum that would be, what with Sal being the best man and all. I also had to wonder—if Pop resorted to such tactics—if Sal would pull from his list of former mob buddies to retaliate.
A shiver ran down my spine.
Just as quickly, the fear passed. Sal Lucci was just a shell of his former self. Surely most of his former acquaintances were long gone. This wasn’t a physical battle, it was a spiritual battle, and it needed to be fought on my knees, not in back alleys with former mob bosses.
“I don’t like any of this,” I said, looking Deanna in the eye.
“But I’m going to keep it to myself. Well, I might tell D.J. I’m not sure. But no one else.” Right then and there, I decided to pray about this. Surely, if David could take down Goliath with five smooth stones, I could deal with Sal Lucci.
I glanced at my watch and gasped. “Deanna, it’s 11:45. I wasted too much time ranting and raving. We need to get on the road.”
“Okay. Hope Francesca’s toenails are dry.”
We found her in the nail salon, conversing with a woman I’d never seen before. She introduced herself as Kathy Francis, from the west end of the island. Between Francesca’s thick Italian accent, the manicurist’s fast-moving Asian dialogue, and Kathy’s slow-moving twang, they were really something to hear. Talk about multicultural!
Thankfully, it took only a few minutes for Francesca to slip on her sandals and pay. I noticed that she left a hefty tip—twenty dollars. Man. I would have offered to do her nails myself for that kind of money.
We quickly paid for our purchases and set off on our way. As I drove up the seawall, I found myself lost in thoughts about Sal Lucci. Much as I wanted to be angry with him, I realized his opinions—however wrong—were not Laz’s. And surely Laz was man enough to stand up to him, should the need arise. Not that I expected anything from Sal. Not really. Surely he wouldn’t stir up trouble this close to my aunt and uncle’s big day. Right?
My cell phone rang, and I glanced down, happy to see D.J.’s number.
“You on your way?” he asked when I answered.
“Yeah, we just left Walmart.”
Something in the tone of my voice must’ve tipped him off. “Everything okay, Bella? You sound kind of … mad.”
“I’m mad all right, but I?
??ll calm down by the time I get there.”
“Not mad at me, I hope.”
At once my voice softened. “No, not at all. Sorry to scare you. I’m just upset at something Sal did.” I lowered my voice, not wanting to raise suspicions. Francesca was happily chatting with Deanna in Italian about her cuticles, so I was safe.
“Ah. Well, you want to tell me about it?” D.J. asked.
“Maybe at the park. I’m hoping to have some alone time with you.” Not that I wanted to spend my few minutes of alone time with my sweetie pouring out my heart about Sal Lucci. No, I needed my private time with D.J. just to be with him. Nothing more.
“We’ll still take that walk on the beach. Sound good?”
“Perfect.” I ended the call, feeling better about things. D.J. always had that effect on me.
Deanna, Francesca, and I arrived at the park at 12:05, just as the Rossi caravan pulled in. As we got out of the car, I noticed Deanna had brought her bathing suit.
“Girl, it’s fifty-four degrees outside,” I said. “No one swims in December!”
“Well, I do.” She laughed. “Besides, fifty-four degrees isn’t cold. We swim in much colder water than that sometimes.” We joined the others, and Francesca looked at Deanna with a horrified expression on her face. “You’re actually going to get in that disgusting water? Have you looked at it?”
“Hey, now …” I turned to her, wondering at her outburst. What was it with this woman? One minute she was happily conversing with strangers, the next she was insulting the Gulf of Mexico? Make up your mind, sister. Either you’re nice or you’re not.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down. Likely this thing about Sal had me more worked up than I needed to be. Maybe I thought—based on the little bit Deanna had said back there at the store—that Emilio and Francesca were somehow in on this too. Were they all conspiring against Rosa? If so, I really might come out swinging.
Lord, calm me down. I’m like Sister Jolene—I’ve slipped out from under the anointing.
Francesca crossed her arms at her chest and stared me down. “Bella, how long has it been since you’ve been to Italy?”