“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.
15
“S am, 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.
All decisions for another time, she thought, forcing her attention to the situation at hand. At dinner Sam had said he had news about the long-lost Marcelli son. Everyone gathered to hear what Sam had to say. They all watched as he opened the folder he’d set on the wood coffee table.
“I’ve found him,” he said, addressing his words to her parents.
Her mother gasped and clutched her husband’s hands. “So soon?”
“His name is Joe Larson. He was taken in by Cynthia and Joseph Larson when he was four days old. They lived in San Diego.”
Francesca listened as Sam sketched out her brother’s life. Where he went to elementary school, that he had no other siblings.
“His adoptive parents were killed when Joe was twelve.”
Francesca froze. Her parents gasped, her mother began to cry, as did the Grands.
“He was alone?” Grandma Tessa asked.
Sam consulted his notes. “No other family members stepped forward. He went into foster care.”
Her mother covered her face with her hands. “No. That’s not right. It can’t be right. Why wouldn’t they tell me?”
Sam didn’t answer, but Francesca already knew the truth. When the baby had been given away, all rights and responsibilities had been lost. The state would have placed him with strangers rather than returning him to the mother who had decided she wasn’t interested in raising her child.
Grandma Tessa pulled her rosary from her pocket and began to finger the beads. Grandpa Lorenzo paled. Sam continued to read from his report.
“Joe went into the Navy after high school. They tapped him for OCS right away. Officer Candidate School. A year after graduating, he entered Navy Seal training. That’s what he does now. He’s a Seal.”
“Is there a picture?” her mother asked.
Sam reached forward and pulled it out, then passed it to her. She studied the photo for nearly a minute, before closing her eyes.
Francesca took the picture. A man in his late twenties stared back at her. She saw the likeness immediately, the blending of Irish and Italian features. He favored his father’s side more than his mother’s. He was good-looking. A stranger who was her brother.
Brenna stared over her shoulder. “He’s really one of us,” she said quietly.
“Was there any doubt?” Francesca asked.
“I was hoping for some,” her sister admitted.
“You’ll want to confirm the relationship with a DNA test,” Sam said, “but it wasn’t a difficult trail to follow. He’s the missing Marcelli.”
“We’ll need to get in touch with him right away,” Grandpa Lorenzo said as he took the picture. “Tell him who he is. He has a history here. A heritage.”
“An inheritance,” Brenna muttered.
The old man nodded.
“I don’t know,” her mother murmured. “It’s been so long. He must hate us.”
“He won’t,” her husband told her.
“Whatever he’s feeling, this is going to be a shock,” Francesca said, unable to imagine finding out she had an entire family somewhere. “Joe Larson has lived his life for thirty years without knowing about us. He’ll need time to absorb everything. You can’t just spring it on him. This needs to be planned out.”
“There’s no time,” Grandpa Lorenzo said. “He’s family. That’s what matters.”
Brenna stood and left without saying anything. Francesca watched her go. For Brenna, the arrival of a long-lost son was the death of a dream.
“Francesca is right,” her mother said. “When I was sixteen I listened to all of you and did what you said. What I should have done was listened to my heart. This time Marco and I decide.”
“He’s not just your son,” Grandpa Lorenzo said. “He’s my grandson. He could be my heir.”
“No.”
Colleen and Marco rose to their feet.
“You’ll stay out of it,” Colleen said firmly. “We’ll decide what we want to do.”
She brushed away her tears and turned to Sam. “Thank you for finding him.”
“I was happy to help. I’ll leave the contact information here,” he said as he dropped a card into the folder and handed it to her.
Kelly shifted next to her father. Francesca turned her attention to the girl and gave her a smile. “You okay?” she asked as her parents left the room.
Grandpa Lorenzo was still muttering. The Grands alternately hugged each other and wiped away tears.
“It’s really weird,” Kelly said. “I feel bad for everybody.”
“Families are complicated,” Francesca agreed.
“Do you think he’s going to like finding out he has a family?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Are you happy about all this?”
“I think this information is going to change a lot of lives,” Francesca said.
Kelly nodded. “Like when Tanya sent me to live with my dad.” She glanced at Sam, who had risen and was talking with Lorenzo. “It was weird at first, but it’s better now.”