Susan Mallery - The Sassy One

“Wow. Okay. Great!”

Katie led the girl from the kitchen. Francesca watched her go with a sense of impending doom. Her mother crossed the kitchen, stopped in front of her, and reached for her hands.

“How far along are you?”

She’d been a fool ever to hope Grandpa Lorenzo had kept her secret for a second. “Did he run right back to the house to tell you or did he announce it at dinner?” she asked.

Grandma Tessa frowned. “Lorenzo is very worried about you. We all are.”

“Francesca, darlin’,” Grammy M murmured. “Are you feelin’ all right? Are you happy about the wee one?”

“I’m dealing with it.” She couldn’t commit to happy. Not when she was still floundering in confused.

“Does Sam know?” her mother asked.

“No. And I don’t want any of you to tell him.”

Her mother looked disapproving. “Francesca, if he’s the father-”

“Of course he’s the father. I don’t go around sleeping with more than one guy at a time. And for the record, there haven’t been any other guys in a long time, okay?”

Grandma Tessa pulled out her rosary and started murmuring. Francesca crossed to the table and sank into a chair. This was not going well.

“I know I have to tell Sam and I will. I just need a little more time to sort some things through.”

“Don’t be takin’ too long,” Grammy M said. “The weddin’-”

Francesca stared at her. “There isn’t going to be a wedding. Let’s make that clear. No marriage. No Mr. and Mrs. I’ll be having the child on my own.”

The three women looked as if they’d just witnessed a murder. They were stunned, shocked, and more than a little disapproving.

“If you’re concerned about Sam, your father will be happy to have a talk with him,” her mother said.

“No!” Francesca rose. “No talking. No anything. This is my life and you’re not to interfere. Do you understand?”

“Francesca-” her mother began.

“No. I’m going to make my own decision. I don’t want you to get involved. I mean it.”

The three women looked at one another, then back at her and nodded. Francesca knew it was the best she could hope for. They had agreed not to interfere, but that didn’t mean she believed them.

Sam exited the freeway for the two-lane highway that would take him to the hacienda. The late July afternoon was warm and clear-perfect California weather. While he should be back in his office, dealing with any number of crises that were bound to crop up in his absence, here he was playing hooky instead. The thing was, there wasn’t anything he would rather be doing.

He was even willing to admit the reason for his good mood-he couldn’t wait to see Francesca. Since the party on the Fourth, nearly three weeks ago, they’d barely spent any time together. Between his work, getting to know Kelly, Francesca’s need to work on her dissertation, and a five-day crisis involving the kidnapped son of a French banker, they hadn’t had much time alone.

Funny how in the past couple of weeks he’d found himself missing her. He missed talking to her, listening to her. He missed the sound of her laughter and looking at her across the dinner table. He missed her in his bed.

At first he’d been able to ignore the ache inside, but it hadn’t gone away. If anything it had gotten worse. Deeper, darker, more uncomfortable. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to touch her face, kiss her, tease her, see her blush, watch her taking care of his daughter.

Basically, he had it bad.

Telling himself all the reasons he shouldn’t get involved didn’t seem to be helping. He didn’t want to believe he was thinking with the wrong head, but there didn’t seem to be another explanation.

So here he was, driving to the hacienda, grateful her family had insisted. They’d wanted to thank him for looking for their son. He glanced at the file folder on the passenger seat. To make the visit more official, he’d brought along what he’d been able to find out about the Marcelli’s firstborn.

He turned from the highway onto the long private road that led to the house. The grapes had grown since his last visit. Heavy clusters swelled in the afternoon light. He rolled down the window and inhaled the scent of earth and fruit. There was a heady sweetness in the air. The promise of harvest only a few weeks away. At least, that’s what it smelled like to him, he thought with a grin. Like he knew anything about making wine.

He was still chuckling as he parked the car in the driveway behind the hacienda. He cut the engine and stepped out in the shade. The afternoon was still and quiet. Santa Barbara wasn’t a huge city, but it was a major metropolis when compared with the solitary splendor of the hacienda.

“Sam?”

He turned and saw Brenna walking toward him. She wore shorts and a T-shirt, with a large hat covering her head. The wide brim protected her face.

He studied her as she approached, looking for similarities between her and her twin. Their eyes were the same shape, but different colors. Francesca’s features were more of a blend of the two families, while Brenna had inherited Italian features from the Marcelli side. She was full-breasted and full-hipped to Francesca’s slender lines. Her beauty was less obvious than her sister’s but just as powerful.

“I know you’re not here to help with Katie’s dress,” she said when she stopped in front of him.

“Is that what they’re doing? Working on the dress?”

Brenna grinned. “It’s a real estrogen fest in there. Want to take a walk until they’re ready to break? I suspect if you go in too soon, they’ll put you to work.”

He shuddered. “I’m not into beads.”

“As your daughter would say, well, duh. Come on. I’ll let you admire my grapes.”

He followed her back the way he’d come. She headed into the rows of vines closest to the house, pausing every now and then to bend down and study the growing clusters.

“We’re having a good year,” she said. “So far.”

“Could that change?”

“Sure. In a heartbeat. Too much sun, not enough sun, rain at the wrong time, no rain, too much rain. If it gets too cold, too hot, too foggy.”

“Sounds like you’re lucky to get any harvest at all.”

“Some years we are.” She stepped back and pointed to the grapes. “Chardonnay.”

“How do you know when they’re ready?”

“Experience. This is my first harvest in a long time, so I’m a little nervous.”

Sam frowned. “I thought you were the sister who was completely into the vineyard. Francesca told me you love it here.”

Brenna shrugged. “That’s true, but what she apparently forgot to mention is that I’m also an idiot.”

She started walking and he followed along. Several questions came to mind, but he didn’t want to go anywhere dangerous. Just when he was about to change the subject, she started talking again.

“Per family expectations I got married when I was eighteen. Jeff was just entering medical school, and someone had to pay the bills. He was at UCLA, so I couldn’t be married to him and still work here. So over the course of a few years I became less and less involved with the winery. Life went on, I missed it, but I knew my place was with my husband.”

She glanced at him. “That would be the idiot part.”

“Because the marriage didn’t work out?”

She nodded. “I became a twenty-seven-year-old cliché. Dr. Jeff left the wife who had supported him all those years and took up with a younger woman. They’re getting married in a couple of months.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m just plain relieved to have it behind me.” She shoved her hands into her shorts pockets. “I was too young to marry anyone. Even being with the right guy would have been a challenge. But family expectations can be a real pain in the ass.”

There was something in her tone of voice that caught his attention. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Brenna shrugged. “My parents are pretty anchored in this century, but not the Grands and Grandpa Lorenzo. They don’t take to newfangled ideas. They’re traditional.”

“Are they concerned because I divorced Kelly’s mother?”

“What? No. It’s just-” Brenna pressed her lips together. “I love my sister. She’s annoying at times, but I love her. They love her, too. You’re a single guy with a daughter. Francesca’s single. There’s been talk.”

The lightbulb went on. He grinned. “You’re warning me that they’re not going to be subtle in their matchmaking.”

She hesitated. “Something like that.”

Before he could figure out an answer, Kelly ran out from the backdoor of the house, calling his name. She waved when she saw him and ran up to greet him.

“You’re here!” she said, sounding delighted. “I’ve been working on the dress all afternoon. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. We’ve been using shiny beads and little glass balls to make tiny flowers and a vine pattern. I haven’t even pricked my finger once today, but Francesca did.” She paused to suck in a breath. “She bled and everything, but Grammy M says she can get the stain out and Katie said she was sticking herself to get out of having to bead the dress because she’s not very good at sewing, but she’s good at lots of other stuff, so that’s okay.”

She stopped to breathe again. This time he laughed. “So you’re bored and want to go home, right?”

“Not even close. I may never leave. I love it here. Francesca and her family are so cool.”

A noise made him look up. He saw Francesca standing in the doorway of the house. She wore shorts and a shirt. Her hair was loose and a little messy. There was a Band-Aid on one finger and a smudge on her cheek. She shouldn’t have looked beautiful. She shouldn’t have looked anything.

In that second, as he stared at her and she stared back and their eyes locked together, fire flared. It burned bright and hot. In that heartbeat, all his determination to avoid messy relationships, to listen to his brain and not his hormones, faded away. He wanted her-in bed, out of bed, whatever was available he would take, and the hell with the consequences.

“Sam, would you help me for a second?” Colleen asked.

“Sure.” He followed her into the kitchen, where she put him to work washing tomatoes for the salad.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do with all the vegetables we have in the garden this year,” she said as she peeled zucchini. “I hope you don’t mind if we send you and Kelly home with a few pounds of our bounty. We’re being overrun.”

Sam held up the tomato he was washing. “Only if you send them with instructions for preparing them. Otherwise this is about all I can handle.”

Colleen Marcelli, stylishly dressed in light-colored pants and a coordinating short-sleeved shirt, raised her eyebrows. “I thought Francesca could take care of that for you.”

He thought of his recent warning from Brenna and held in a grin. “She’s not at my house all that often, but when she is, I rarely put her to work in the kitchen. After all she’s done to help me out with Kelly, I think it would show a lack of gratitude.”

“I know Francesca enjoys spending time with your daughter very much. She’s always liked children. Then I suppose most women do.”

He thought of his ex-wife. But then Tanya wasn’t like most women.

Colleen finished with the zucchini and went to work on several red and yellow peppers. “You never remarried.”

“No, ma’am.”

Francesca’s mother smiled at him. “I’m prying, I know. It’s just…” She sighed. “I worry about my children. Francesca is very special. She deserves a world of happiness. Sometimes life gives us situations that at first don’t seem ideal, but over time we come to see that it all worked out for the best.”

Sam stared at her. When had he lost track of the conversation? “Mrs. Marcelli-”

“Colleen,” she said with a smile. “Please.”

“All right. Colleen. I think Francesca’s great and I want her to be happy, as well.”

“There’s also Kelly. Being an only child can be so-”

“Mom!”

Sam looked up and saw Francesca standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Her eyes were flashing with temper.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Colleen ducked her head. “Sam and I were just talking.”

“Then it’s time for the conversation to be over.” Francesca turned to him. “Come on. Let’s take Kelly for a walk.”

Sam wiped his hands on a paper towel and followed her out of the room. He didn’t know what was going on, but there were enough undercurrents to float a ship in this place. He hadn’t noticed them at the party. Was that because there’d been such a large crowd around, or had something happened in the past few weeks? Something other than the mystery brother. Something he didn’t know about?

* * *

Nightmare didn’t begin to describe dinner, Francesca thought when the meal was finally finished and the family moved into the living room. The family matchmaking had abandoned anything remotely subtle and risen right to hard sell. While Sam had laughed off most of the more obvious comments, she’d sensed his confusion as to the intensity of the attack. Her family was keeping her secret, but only just. If she didn’t want the Grands to break out the yarn and start knitting receiving blankets in front of Sam, she was going to have to come clean and soon.