She laughed. “Are you sure about that? Wouldn’t that make us brother and sister?”
“Oh yeah. Ewww.”
“Not only that, but don’t they have enough kids already?” As they were walking up the steps to the Fierros’ brownstone, she hoped Dante’s parents didn’t hold what happened at the gallery against her. Dante assured her his mother would be delighted to see her again.
She had only taken a couple of steps inside when Gabriella hurried to the door and gave them each a tight hug.
“Come in, come in.” Gabriella grabbed Mallory’s hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder at Dante, who just grinned, following behind with his hands in his pockets.
Gabriella seemed anxious to see them. But why? Maybe she wanted to talk her out of seeing her son.No, Mallory. Stop talking to yourself that way!She had been trying to catch her inner negative Nellie whenever she showed up uninvited.
“I’m so excited to see you,” Gabriella said.
“Why?” Mallory asked.
Gabriella’s brows tented. “Why? Because I want to get to know you better. I’m happy that you’re in my son’s life. You seem to make him happy.”
She glanced at her boyfriend, who was rolling his eyes. “Dante’s always happy.”
“It would seem that way, because he has been ever since he met you.”
Mallory worried her lip. “I didn’t think you’d want him to see me anymore, especially not after the whole, you know…gallery thing.”
Gabriella smiled. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry that happened to you, but it’s not a big deal. Not around here. I mean, who doesn’t freak out and turn into a monkey once in a while?” She gave her a sly grin, and the three of them laughed.
“Dante, you never told me your mother was so funny.”
Dante shrugged. “She has her moments.”
“I was just about to make my husband’s favorite bread. Would you like to help me?” Gabriella asked.
“Sure!” At that moment, Mallory’s phone rang. “Give me a second.” She walked off toward the back of the house and wound up in a laundry and mudroom while Dante stayed in the kitchen with his mother.
“Mallory?”
It sounded like the gallery owner’s voice. “Yes?”
“It’s Helen. I have some interesting news for you.”
“Oh, hi, Helen. It’s nice to talk to you again.” She could fake confidence over the phone much better than in person. “News? What news?”
“Yes. Apparently, someone at the show liked what he saw and wanted to get in touch with you.”
“Really? What was his name?”
“Maurice Winston. Do you remember speaking with him?”
“Um, no?”
“He’s a textile designer. He liked the color and movement and how you evoked emotion in your work. He was inspired and thought the patterns would be unique and beautiful in clothing. I have to say I agree with him.”
“You mean he wants to print my paintings on rolls of fabric? Then sell the fabric to make dresses, that sort of thing?”
“Exactly. Well, it’s done on computers these days. I was picturing it in my mind, and I think it’s a great idea. I’d love a dress made with one of your paintings as the fabric.”
“Wow. I had never thought of using them that way. I’ll gladly make sure you get one, especially since you were so nice to me, considering…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m just happy to help. I think it might be a good job for you. You can probably even work from home if you’d like. I’ll send you his office phone number along with your check, and you can get in touch.”
