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I used to catch the click of the window from miles away when your sister tried to sneak out to meet Dominick. Now I can’t even hear when my front door slams.”
Julietta laughed and gave her a hug. After birthing four children, launching a successful bakery empire, and burying her husband, her mother still possessed a driving force built into her core. Her long gray hair was always twisted back in a bun, and her arthritis was serious enough to warrant a cane to help her walk. She’d had a few scares with her heart problems, but she’d held strong the past few years.
She wore her favorite apron—taken out each Sunday— marked with various stains from years gone by but always freshly laundered. The logo of La Dolce Famiglia was im-printed on it, and it had been given to her as a gift from Papa after their first bakery launched. For a little while, wrapped up in her childhood home with her mama at the stove, Julietta was happy. Safe.
She stowed her bag away, grabbed her apron, and settled herself at the table to chop tomatoes and peppers. “Is Uncle Brian coming over for dinner?” she asked, expertly dicing the vegetables.
“No, he’s taking the kids somewhere after church.”
“Is all this food just for me?” she teased. “Stop trying to fatten me up, Mama. I’ll have to buy a new wardrobe.”
Her mother paused, as if thinking about her next words.
“We shall have one guest for dinner.”
“Who?”
“you will see. For now, tell me what is going on at work.
Did you close the deal with The Palazzo as you had hoped?
I know you’ve been working on it for months.”
Julietta tried to fight off the disappointment of failure and squared her shoulders. “No, they made their decision a few weeks ago. I lost the deal.”
“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I know that meant a lot to you, but it is not needed. everything happens for a reason. A better deal will be presented.”
The truth of her mother’s words struck home. An image of Sawyer sprang before her eyes: those sculpted, devilish lips quirking in amusement, as if he knew she’d eventually end up in his bed. At least he had backed off and hadn’t tried to push. Still, she needed to be on guard at all times. She didn’t trust him to play by any rules. Julietta cleared her throat.
“Umm, actually, I’m signing a pretty big contract, Mama.
For a new hotel chain called Purity. We’ll be exclusive to the hotels, and the first one launches in Milan within the year.”
Pride etched out the lines of her mother’s face. “Well done. Why don’t we celebrate with some Moscato? I have a bottle chilling in the refrigerator, and we’ll open it at dinner.
Perhaps, now that this big deal has been signed, you will finally ease up the workload?”
Julietta’s confidence slipped a notch and she avoided her mother’s gaze. of course. Business was never enough when compared to marriage and love and babies. She swallowed back the ridiculous sting of tears, wondering if she was getting her period. What was up with her lately? She was so emotional and . . . girly. “Actually, I’ll need to work harder,” she said lightly. “But I enjoy every moment. I’m doing exactly what I always dreamed.”
Mama Conte sliced off a piece of fresh mozzarella and handed it to her with bread. The rich, creamy texture sank into the warm dough, and Julietta swallowed in pleasure. “I know you enjoy your career. Without you, I don’t know if La Dolce Famiglia would have succeeded, even with Michael at the helm. you have a gift. I just want you to share it with someone special.”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. Typical motherly dream. Still, the comment bit hard, as if what Julietta had done with her life wasn’t enough. It wasn’t as if she could confess to her mother something was wrong with her, and she couldn’t connect with a man. She pushed the depression to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on enjoy-ing her visit. “Perhaps one day,” she said brightly.
“Si. one day.”
A knock at the door saved her from further inquiry.
She wiped her hands on the towel and grinned. “Ah, our mysterious visitor. I bet it’s Father richard; he’s always happy to eat your cooking.” She moved to the front door and opened it.
Her mouth fell open.
Sawyer Wells stood in the entrance. His business suit had been replaced by a pair of comfortable khakis, a thick cableknit cream sweater, and Versace leather croc boots.
His hair swung free and touched his shoulders in a delicious mess of golden waves. He held a bouquet of freshly picked flowers and a bottle of red wine. “Hey.”
She stared.
He cocked his head and seemed to fight amusement.
“Umm, can I come in?”
She recovered her voice and lowered it to a hiss. “What are you doing here?”
one brow shot up. “I guess you didn’t realize I was invited to dinner.”
She blinked. “Huh?”
“real wordsmith out of the office, aren’t you? your mother invited me to dinner.”
Julietta jerked back. “Impossible.”
A voice from the hallway drifted to the open door.
“Julietta, stop torturing the man and let him in. He is correct.”
Sawyer grinned. “Told ya.”
He stepped around her and waltzed past. Her fingers clenched around the door in an effort to keep standing.
After a few deep breaths, she followed him in. “How beautiful,” Mama Conte crooned, inhaling the scent of roses and lilies. “Julietta, can you put these in the vase from the living room? Sawyer, can you open the bottle of Moscato? It’s in the refrigerator. I was just told Julietta closed a big deal, and we’re celebrating.”
Sawyer rocked on his heels, obviously amused at the whole scenario. “Big deal, huh? of course.”
“Mama, what’s going on? I didn’t know you and Sawyer were . . . close?”
Her mother’s head snapped around. “He is a friend of Max’s, and it is Sunday. of course, I would invite him to dine with us. My home is open to all, especially one known to my family. I am sure you agree with me, correct?”
Julietta licked her dry lips. ouch. Her mama’s anger was something to be reckoned with, and nothing pissed her off more than the idea of people not being welcome in her home. Mio Dio, why was this happening to her today? She only wanted some peace and quiet, and now the symbol of her distress would be breaking bread in her family home.
