Miracle for the Girl Next Door / Mother of the Bride: Miracle for the Girl Next Door. Rebecca Winters
There were half a dozen people drinking coffee at individual bistro tables while they read the newspaper. He’d already staked out their table in the same corner as before.
“I’m over here, Clarissima.”
She wheeled around in surprise. A slow smile broke out on her stunning face. “I would never have guessed it was you! You look like a French seaman on leave from Marseille or some such port.”
“That’s the way I’d like to keep it.”
“I know,” she said in a quiet voice. “I won’t give you away.”
He held her chair, then sat down opposite her. “Help yourself.” He’d already taken their cappuccinos and ham-filled croissants to the table.
“Thank you. After all the food we ate last evening, can you believe I’m hungry again?” She bit into her breakfast.
Valentino smiled as he devoured his. “How did the babysitting go?”
“None of them wanted to go to bed. We ended up having our own party.”
He’d wanted to be there. The night had been endless for him. “Is that why you seem a little tired this morning?”
“Yes,” she murmured, but she didn’t look at him as she said it.
“Did Lia bring the limoncello with her?”
Her lips curved upward. “She did.”
“Good. I’m already salivating for it.” Color seeped into her cheeks. “Have you given serious thought to the plus side of the trattoria?”
Clara sipped her cappuccino. “Yes. The placement of the tables was conducive to private conversation. The service was good. The chicken was tender, the gelato excellent.” He liked watching her mouth as she spoke. Even when she had been a girl it had a passionate flare.
“What about the negatives?”
“The bruschetta was mediocre, the wine so-so, the pasta seemed too greasy and the bathroom needed attention.”
He chuckled. “My sentiments exactly, piccola. Bravo. I was going to add that the prices were too high.”
“Yes, but they obviously lower them for the tour-bus crowds. Oh—something else. The decor wasn’t that unique. Not anything like your father’s restaurant.”
“Well, it’s possible Papa will be interested in our findings and can point out the differences to the tour directors when I invite them to Rosa for a meal.”
“Rosa’s sauce is to die for, Tino.”
“My father will be delighted to hear that Signora Rossetti’s daughter has given her seal of approval. What Papa really needs is your mother in his kitchen. I ate most of your lunches at school, if you remember.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” she admitted in an odd tone before suddenly getting to her feet. “Thank you for breakfast. Now I need to get going to my appointment.”
For once Valentino was ready for that and stood up. “I appreciate your taking the time to meet me first.” He walked her outside. “After I’ve met with Papa, I’ll call you and tell you what he said.”
As she gazed at him her eyes clouded over. “I hope he shows you how thrilled he is that his wonderful son is trying to help him.” Her earnestness resonated to his insides. He couldn’t hold back any longer.
“I’m not his wonderful anything, Clara. He’s not my biological father. You might as well know I’m the product of an extramarital affair.”
He heard her long gasp. “Your mother was unfaithful?”
“Yes. She and Luca hit a bad patch in their marriage, but they made up.”
She looked devastated for him. “Do you know your birthfather?”
“No, and when I learned about it, I didn’t want to know him. Neither did Luca apparently, so I was raised as a Casali.”
“Then he must have loved your mother and you very much.”
Valentino studied her upturned features. “You come from a very loving, close-knit family. You see only the good. It’s a remarkable trait. Don’t ever lose it.”
She bit her lip. “You’ve never told anyone?”
“Isabella and Cristiano know. Our parents told all of us before Mamma died so there’d be no secrets, but it’s not common knowledge.”
“I’ll never say anything,” she whispered.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Tino—” She sounded distressed. “I—I’d like to stay longer and talk to you, but I have to go or I’ll be late. Forgive me.”
“Of course. I’ll be in touch.”
She nodded before hurrying away across the piazza. Once she disappeared he rushed after her, realizing she’d taken the set of stairs where she’d come down that first day.
When he reached it and mounted the narrow staircase to the next level of the town, she was nowhere in sight. There were more residences than shops in this area. He looked all around, noticing the local clinic on his left. He’d never known a dental office to be in there, but maybe things had changed.
Give her a few more minutes before you burst in looking for her, Casali.
If he did find her inside, he’d be risking her anger because it smacked of invading her privacy. She might never speak to him again.
After the conversation they’d had the other day on the subject of maintaining one’s privacy, there was a certain irony to this kind of thinking—and danger. But that was what he thrived on. At this late date he couldn’t change his character if he tried and determined to take his chances.
He watched the locals go in and come out the doors of the clinic. He waited another minute, then walked inside. Just as he’d thought, the wall plaque didn’t indicate any dentists in the building. Beyond the foyer was a waiting room full of patients. He couldn’t see Clara among them. She might not be here at all, but he had to check.
Chagrined that he hadn’t followed her more closely, Valentino had no choice but to approach the receptionist at the desk. When she got off the phone he said, “Could you tell me if Clara Rossetti has already gone in for her appointment?”
“I’m sorry. Even if she were a patient here, I can’t give you that information unless you’re the police or her next of kin.”
For no good reason the hairs lifted on the back of his neck. The receptionist had given nothing away, yet for the first time since coming back to Monta Correnti a little frisson of alarm darted through him. It was that same feeling he got on the racetrack when he sensed something wasn’t right and braced himself for what was coming around the next curve.
“I’m her fiancé,” he lied without compunction. “I’ve been at sea for a long time, but got shore leave specifically to see her. Her sister Bianca told me I’d find her here for her ten o’clock appointment.” If lightning struck him, he didn’t care.
“In that case, go back to the foyer and down the hall to the dialysis clinic.”
Dialysis—
A shudder rocked his body. That meant kidney failure. People died from it.
No. Not Clara. He’d just come from being with her. Though she’d looked tired, she’d seemed healthy to him.
He shook his head, trying to make sense of it.
She couldn’t be dying. That was preposterous! Valentino didn’t believe it. He must have misunderstood the receptionist.
Bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t seem to swallow.