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“Oh I like her. She’s skittish though,” Angelica said remembering that they still hadn’t heard back from her.
“She is leery of people who promise big things and don’t deliver. She asked me about if you had the money to pay staff, which I assured her you did.”
Angelica realized that it was going to take more than a big gesture to win over Sox and the other residents of The Barrels. “She’s so talented; I hope she’ll trust me.”
“I think she’s closer to that after tonight. She has a lot of good ideas for the area. I think she really wants to see some change.”
“I think so too,” Angelica admitted. “There is a message of hope in her murals. She’s painting The Barrels as she wants them to be. Or at least that was my impression.”
“I thought so too. The fact that she’s tight with Sully helps as well. I know he’s really put a lot of effort into trying to make a change there.”
“He has. He’s invested not just his money but also his time. I want to start a community advisory board. I think we should be running the projects by them so we are meeting their needs,” he said.
Angelica knew that made the most sense. “That’s great. Do you think you’ll pause the projects you have going now?”
Max shrugged as he turned into the parking lot at Laissez Faire and she noticed all of her family’s cars were there. “Some of them maybe but I have a lot of land I purchased in The Barrels so there’s room for them to grow. I guess everyone is here.”
“Seems that way. My family loves a late night get-together,” she said. “I’m glad Nico texted you.”
“Me too. I mean he knows you and I are dating.”
Dating. That’s right they were. But she was starting to want more. He glanced back at her as he shut off the car.
“You okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Just hungry,” she said. “I bet Jock’s made his famous jambalaya. We’re actually Cajun and Italian so Jock brings the best of our heritage to all his food.”
“I haven’t tried it yet. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Then you are in for a treat,” she said, getting out of the car and shaking her head to clear it. She had to stop worrying about the future. Let go and enjoy this time when her life was starting to get back on track and she was dating a nice guy like Max.
She wasn’t like Cosima, always running and dodging commitment. She was the opposite actually. And the more she shed the fear and guilt of the last year, the more she realized that she wanted more than fun from Max.
She should have been real with herself from the beginning but looking back she knew she had been. At that moment fun was all she’d been able to handle. Now that things were going well she thought she wanted more. But was she rushing it just to feel like she was her old self? As if this new woman wasn’t stable. She realized that there was some truth to that. She was unsure of herself.
The newness of who she was becoming hadn’t settled in and having a solid man at her side…well she needed to think that truth.
She opened the back door and then entered through the kitchen where dishes had been set up on what she knew was called the pass. Tables had been pushed together and she heard ‘Dominick the Donkey’ by Lou Monte playing as they joined her family. Her dad was singing along and when he smiled at her she could tell he’d had a few glasses of wine.
“My beautiful Angelica. Now we can start the party,” he said, coming over to kiss her cheek and then he turned to hug Max.
“Seems like the party might have already started,” Angelica said to Jock who came over to hug her.
“Well it’s been a good night. We all saw the crowds outside your boutique. We’re celebrating Christmas and you.”
Chapter Twelve
Celebrating Angelica wentinto the wee hours of the morning, which was fine for Max who worked for himself but for Angelica—who had to get up by eight to open the boutique—it wasn’t so great. She’d drank a lot of champagne and spent the evening smiling at him and holding his arm as they’d moved around the table talking to her different family members.
To the others this woman was an Angelica they’d seen before. To him this woman was new, and exciting and sexy. She shone with an effervescence that he hadn’t seen in her before. He’d hadn’t tried to coax her into leaving—he recognized that she needed this night, this celebration.
“Of course, it would happen at Christmas,” she said as they were back in their original seats at the table and drinking espresso laced with Frangelico.
“Why: of course?” he asked her as most of her siblings were talking quietly with their partners or spouses.
“It’s the season of miracles,” she said softly.
“Always?” he asked her.
