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CHAPTER THREE – ZAHRA
The lights are dim at Fuoco, and I can only hope they’ll have something on the menu that our little Zoe likes since she was a last-minute addition. She was delighted when the limousine pulled up to the house to pick us up for dinner tonight.
She told me that she was glad Nana and Poppy couldn’t get her on time, but I warned her that we would drop her off with them after dinner. She would not make it back to the hotel with Carlo and me. We were in desperate need of some alone time. Not that we didn’t get it, but we needed more lately.
I needed to find out what was on my husband’s mind and pull out all of my tricks to relax him and free his mind of worry.
“Mommy! I want pizza!” Zoe exclaims as the waiter drops off a children’s menu.
Her little golden eyes are lit up and sparkling as she looks between her daddy and me. She props her chin on the back of her hand, waiting anxiously for my approval.
Every now and then, I allow her to eat foods that are not healthy, and this will be one of those times. I incorporate healthy, clean foods into our meals, but I try to make them fun for Zoe and always delicious.
“Pullleeez,” she says, her little eyes filling with worry as I take too long to respond.
“Fine, for tonight only, but I will let Nana and Poppy know that you can’t have any junk this weekend.”
“Okay,” she beams and wiggles in her seat, swinging her legs back and forth.
Reaching across the table, Carlo grabs one of her long, curly ponytails and tugs at it.
“You think you’re slick, Zoe-Zoe.”
She beams at my husband and says, “Nuh-uh.”
We both know that when she goes to my parents’ house this weekend, she’ll eat whatever her little heart desires. As their only grandchild, they deny her nothing. And right now, Zoe will agree to anything I say just to get what she wants.
Neither Carlo nor I are fooled, but we concede to let her have fun tonight. It’s a special night, our seventh anniversary.
After placing our orders, Zoe busies herself coloring the pages the waiter provided her with for entertainment. I glance at my husband and see the frown lines etched on his forehead, quickly taking on permanency these days.
“What gives, Carlo?”
“Huh?”
While he’s here with us, his tone is distracted, and I can tell his mind is a million miles away.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.”
“The business?”
Sighing, he says, “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”
Ignoring his statement, I ask, “How’d the meeting go this morning? Did they understand your perspective?”
“Let’s just say that we agreed to disagree. I mean, Zahra, I don’t understand why Uncle Mike kept carrying this account for so long. None of the numbers are adding up, and the money funneling here isn’t directly attributed to any real source I can tell. They insisted that the account needed to remain and that I would ruin the vineyard when all I needed to do was keep things running the way they were. They felt as if Uncle Mike made a big mistake leaving the vineyard to me.”
Shrugging, I pick up my glass of wine and take a sip. “Doesn’t matter what they feel. It’s your business to do with it what you want.”
Scratching an eyebrow, Carlo still looks troubled. “Yeah, I know that. But they don’t seem to know that for some strange reason.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, looking at Zoe to ensure she’s not attuned to our conversation.
She’s humming and bobbing her head to some song that only she can hear in her mind as she continues coloring.
Shrugging and turning his lips down, Carlo replies, “Just that…they said I’ll see reason soon and come around. They said they hoped that I wouldn’t make a mistake that I’d later regret.”
