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“Hi, Mom.” Cole snagged a fried zucchini from a bowl on the marble-topped kitchen island. “Where’s Dad?”
“Resting.” She waved a hand. “You know all these visitors make him tired. Today the home-care worker, the nurse and the physical therapy came.”
“You mean the physical therapist?”
“I say that, no?”
Cole let it slide. His mother had a late-blossoming career as the host of a local cooking show. Viewers who wrote in liked her accent, and
television executives believed it added the spice of authenticity to her show. For Cole, it was just another colorful aspect of his lovable but quirky family.
“You beat me to the food. Did you taste the gnocchi yet?”
Cole turned to see Jordan saunter into the kitchen. Cole figured his brother must have driven up as soon as he’d entered the house. “How do you know she prepared gnocchi?”
Jordan shrugged. “I texted Mom earlier. She’s perfecting a recipe for next week’s show, and we’re the guinea pigs. Gnocchi with prosciutto, escarole and tomato.”
Camilla brightened. “I tell you? The name of the show is goin’ to change to Flavors of Italy with Camilla Serenghetti.”
“That’s great!” Jordan leaned in to give his mother a quick peck on the cheek.
Cole nodded. “Congratulations, Mom. You’ll be challenging Lidia Bastianich in no time.”
Camilla beamed. “My name in the titolo. Good, no?”
“Excellent,” Cole said.
Camilla frowned. “But I need to schedule more guests.”
“Isn’t that the job of the program booker at the station?”
“It’s my show.”
Jordan made a warding-off gesture with his hands. “Remember when you had me on last year, Mom? I made you burn the onions that you were sautéing. And Cole here wasn’t much better when he was a guest.”
From Cole’s perspective, he and Jordan had been worth something in the sex appeal department, but his mother’s show would never have mass crossover appeal to the beer-and-chips sports crowd.
Before he could offer to sacrifice himself again on the altar of his mother’s show-business career, Camilla started toward the fridge and said, “I need somebody new.”
“I’ll put in a word with the Razors,” Jordan offered. “Marc Bellitti likes to cook. And maybe a member of the team can suggest someone with better skills in the kitchen than on the ice.”
Cole turned to his brother. “Speaking of ice, great game for you last night. You would have scored another goal if Peltier hadn’t body-checked you at the last second.”
Jordan grumbled. “He’s been a pain in the rear all season.” Then keeping an eye on their mother, as if to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard, he added, “Guy needs to get laid.”
At the mention of sex, Cole locked his jaw. “Has Marisa Danieli contacted you?”
Jordan cast him an assessing look. “Why do you ask?”
“She still needs a guinea pig for her fund-raiser. As I understand it, you’re eager guinea pig material.”
Jordan’s lips quirked. “Being the test subject isn’t half bad sometimes. Anyway, she wanted you.”
“I told her no.”
“Admirable fortitude. The guys in the locker room would be impressed.”
“I’m asking you to tell her no.”
