3 Savor by Barbara Ellen Brink

everything all right?” he asked
softly, eyes narrowed with interest.
    She pressed her lips together and nodded.
    “What can I do for you?” she asked
the stranger on the line, the man whom she’d once blamed for Agosto’s
desertion, and the man Agosto said he hated, but respected more than any other.
The only grandparent her son had left.
    “I was hoping to meet my grandson,”
he said. When there was no immediate response from her, he continued. “Perhaps
we should meet first. Alone. Discuss boundaries and expectations?” He put it as
a question, but she knew that just as Agosto was unable to take no for an
answer, his father would be unaccustomed to the process as well. It would be
better to meet with him one on one and get it over with.
    “Are you coming to the states
soon?” she asked, wondering how much time she had to prepare herself. She moved
to the sliding door and flipped the outside patio light on. A small rodent went
scurrying off into the bushes.
    “As a matter of fact, I flew into
San Francisco this morning. My day is wide open tomorrow,” he said, leaving the
ball in her court.
    “I see.” She turned around to find Adam
still watching. His concern was sweet, but distracting. “Can you meet me in
Yountville at Antonio’s? Say, two o’clock?” She was delivering Carl’s monthly
order of wine anyway and she would feel more comfortable knowing her brother’s
friend was within calling distance.
    “Perfect. I was planning to make a
trip out to see my nephew sometime while I was here. Now I can kill two birds
with one stone.”
    The old idiom was not comforting.
In fact, it was rather insulting. She swallowed down the harsh retort that came
to mind. “Fine. I look forward to meeting you,” she lied, and ended the call.
    Adam leaned on one hip, eating a
leftover slice of pizza from the box on the table. “You don’t sound very
excited about the date you just made,” he said, curious but not wanting to
probe.
    Sometimes she wondered how men
survived, unable to ask direct questions. They’d wander aimlessly for days
instead of asking directions and Adam would apparently chew off his own right
arm before asking her who she was meeting.
    She glanced into the den. Davy now
lay stretched out on the couch with Rambo curled next to him, watching the end
of the movie. There was plenty of movie noise to block their conversation, but
her son was a curious sort himself and he might just be listening without appearing
to do so. She lowered her voice. “I’m not. Agosto’s father is in town,” she
said, her voice tense with worry.
    Adam swallowed the last bite of
pizza and licked his lips. “Is this the first time he’s contacted you since…”
    “Yes.” She shook her head slowly,
trying to understand a father who would have strangers ship his son’s body home
to Italy and never inquire as to the circumstances of his death. Or maybe he
did and he just couldn’t handle seeing her or Davy at that point, knowing they
were the reason his son came to America in the first place.
    “What did he say?”
    Margaret stepped into Adam’s
embrace and slowly released the breath she was holding, allowing her fears to
dissipate into the comfort of her kitchen in the arms of the man she loved.
After soaking in the realization that she’d just admitted to herself something
she’d refused to acknowledge up till now, she leaned her head back and smiled.
She wasn’t sure about being the one to say the words first, but she was
positive the feeling wasn’t going away. “You know,” she said matter-of-factly,
basking in the warmth of his brown eyes, “I’ve fallen in love with you.”
    She couldn’t have surprised him
more if she’d announced her engagement to Sammie. His mouth dropped open and
she felt his arms go slack for a moment before he pulled her close and planted
a kiss on the top of her head. “I can’t believe you’re finally telling me this
now – with your son watching from the next