was
still pretty fresh in her mind.
*****
“Has Agosto been by here?” Handel asked,
watching Carl chop Portabella mushrooms with quick and accurate precision. He
scraped them into a heated skillet and let one of his assistants take over.
Without looking up, Carl yelled
something to the Sous-chef in Italian and wiped his hands on a towel. He headed
toward the back door and Handel followed him out into the alley. A busboy sat
smoking on the closed lid of the garbage bin. Carl jabbed his chin toward the
door and the boy crushed out his cigarette and slunk back inside.
“What do you want from me?” Carl
spread his hands and lifted his shoulders in a helpless gesture. He looked
tired. His face was already dark with a five-o’clock shadow although he
probably didn’t come in until noon. He was up late every night and lived on a
different clock than most of the business world. The restaurant opened at four
p.m. and didn’t close until midnight. “I don’t like what he did to your sister
anymore than you, but he is Davy’s father and he says he wants to do right by
him.”
Handel raised his brows. “Right by
him? You’ve got to be kidding. Nine years after the fact of his birth he wants
to do right by him? Now? Why?” He threw his hands up in frustration. “You know
better than I that Agosto doesn’t do anything out of the goodness of his heart.
I want to know what he’s up to.”
Carl shook his head. “I don’t know.
He came here and apologized for the past. Offered his hand of friendship.” He
met Handel’s steely gaze. “What was I supposed to do? He’s family.”
“And what are we—chump
change?” Handel moved past him toward the door but Carl stopped him with a hand
on his arm.
“Just because I accepted his
apology doesn’t mean I trust him. I already made a call to my mother. If anyone
can find out what he’s up to, she can.”
Handel turned and clasped his
friend’s hand. “Thank you. I’m sorry to come here like this during business
hours. I’ve just been so worried about Margaret. Davy means everything to her.
You know that.”
“I know.” Carl nodded. “By the way,
I hear congratulations are in order.”
“News travels way too fast. I
wanted to tell you myself.” He grinned. “Since you’re the closest thing I have
to a brother and I know you already own a tux, I was hoping you’d agree to be
my best man.”
Carl laughed and threw his arms
around Handel. “I’d be honored.” He pulled away and straightened his white chef
coat. “Now I’ve got to get back in there and make sure Andre hasn’t ruined my
pesto sauce.” He yanked open the door and let Handel go in first. “Tell Billie
I expect you two to be in soon to celebrate. On me.”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
The smell of grilling meat made
Adam head around the corner of the house instead of knocking at the door. Smoke
signals wafted over to meet his nose and he felt his stomach rumble. It had
been a while since he’d had a decent steak. He was too broke for such
extravagance in college and his mother rarely cooked red meat anymore. She had
decided it was unhealthy because she heard some talk show host spouting the
horrors of mad cow disease or something. Well, he’d rather go mad from beef
than live on tuna fish and salad for the rest of his life.
Margaret had her back to him,
standing over the grill with a long fork in hand, flipping meat and rearranging
foil wrapped potatoes. She hummed an old rock melody in an off-key sort of way
that made him smile. In short shorts, her legs appeared to stretch a long, tan
mile. She turned around and nearly jabbed him with the fork when she saw him
standing there.
“You scared me!” she accused. She
glanced at her watch. “Aren’t you a bit early? I haven’t even changed yet.”
He gave her an appraising look.
“Don’t change for my benefit. I think you look terrific already.” He took the
fork out of her hand, as she was still