A Daughter's Homecoming. Ginny Aiken

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Point rattled her. No matter what the great-looking guy at the animal shelter might think of her.

      * * *

      At nine forty-five that night, Gabi walked into the house, more exhausted than she’d felt in years, But she didn’t have the luxury of taking time off, since she had to keep the restaurant afloat for her parents’ sakes. She went to her room, grabbed clean shorts and a T-shirt and hit the shower to wash off the grime of the day. Clean again, she walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. She made a beeline to the refrigerator for an icy can of root beer. Mama always stocked up when she knew Gabi was coming home. As she popped the tab, a note on the table caught her attention.

      Her parents had gone to bed already, her mother wrote, and would see her in the morning. The translated message spoke of her mother’s expectation of Gabi’s detailed account of things at Tony’s. But how could she do that? If either of her parents knew how she’d found the place, they’d insist on running it themselves again. That would be devastating for her father. He was in no condition to work. Not yet.

      Maybe never again—

      No! She couldn’t think that way. His doctors had said Antonio Carlini would recover, and they expected him to return to work soon enough. True, he might never put in twelve hours a day like he had in the past, but they believed he should be able to spend a decent amount of time making the pizzas, calzones and pastas he loved to serve his faithful customers.

      If he gave his body the chance to recover.

      “Oh, Lord,” she said on a sigh. “Bless him with Your strength, cradle him in the palm of Your healing hand.”

      Of course, she couldn’t tell Mama or Papa what she’d found in that kitchen. Besides, while cleaning out the fridge, a germ of an idea had popped into her thoughts and found fertile soil in her imagination. Soon she’d seen the restaurant in a different light.

      Now she was sure that with her business know-how, she could help her parents upgrade Tony’s. If, instead of the kitschy pizza place it always had been, she were to turn it into a chic and elegant Italian bistro, surely they’d see reason. She felt certain positive change would inspire them to leave behind some of their more outdated ways. Then, if her parents led by example, maybe some of her other relatives would follow. Maybe the whole famiglia would see that toning things down a notch was the way to go. Never mind that Tony’s would make a lot more money in the process, with an upscale menu and an upmarket appeal. Those medical bills loomed enormous in Gabi’s mind, just as they did in her parents’ minds.

      She pulled out a chair, kicked off her flip-flops and sat down to enjoy her root beer. As always, Mama had dimmed the lights in the kitchen, leaving enough illumination so no one would trip if they came down for a midnight snack or something to drink. Still, the low light let Gabi look around and appreciate the warmth and cozy appeal of the efficient space.

      Her parents had bought their home when she was small, before property in the coastal areas just outside of Seattle, like nearby Edmonds and in Lyndon Point, had grown prohibitive. True, the house had been practically a wreck back then, but with equal amounts of elbow grease and love, the large Cape Cod–style white cottage had become a jewel. Even the kitchen.

      These days, the cabinets were a glossy white, easy to clean and bright even on the Pacific Northwest’s dreariest days. Red-and-white-checked curtains framed the windows, a cheery echo of the red-and-white checkerboard-tile floor. A sprinkling of Mama’s red tchotchkes, her red apron, four sassy red canisters and Papa’s outrageous cookie jar—an enormous white rooster with a scarlet comb—turned the place into the whimsical family hub it had always been.

      She smiled. This was the room that came to mind whenever she thought of home. Even though she’d tried, she’d been unable to replicate its feeling in the kitchen of the bungalow she and Allie shared in Cleveland, and that failure drove her crazy at times, since she’d tried so hard to get it right. The cabinets were almost identical in style and color, the curtains yellow-and-white checked, and she and her roommate had spent a whole lot of time shopping for the abundance of clever blue-and-yellow accessories they’d arranged around the room. It was a very pretty kitchen, perfect in every concrete aspect, but even so, that missing something-or-other eluded her.

      It needed something special, something that gave it life.

      Before she could stop it, the image of the stray jelled in her thoughts. How sweet it would be to have his company right then, to have him snuggle into the curve of her neck again. Gabi could almost hear the sound his claws would make against the kitchen floor as he trotted close.

      A knot formed in her throat, and she wondered how the rascal was doing. The urge to hold him again made her sadder than she could have expected.

      “You can call to check up on him,” Zach had said before she’d left. “The phone here is connected to my cell, so I can be reached whenever anyone finds a stray animal. You can call me anytime.”

      The memory of the shelter director’s words was swiftly followed by the awareness of the lights she’d noticed on in the building when she’d walked past it about a half hour earlier. Was Zach Davenport still there? Would he really answer if she called?

      She pulled out the business card he’d given her from the pocket of the clean cutoffs she’d put on after her shower. She stared at it, the need to know growing greater by the minute. Her stomach tightened with apprehension—and a touch of anticipation, too—as she dialed the number on the card.“Hello?” he said after the third ring.

      She drew in a breath. “Hi...Zach? It’s Gabi. Gabriella Carlini. I dropped off a stray earlier today.”

      It occurred to her to check the red-and-white clock above the stove. Almost ten o’clock. Oh, great. What nutcase called this late just to check on a dog she couldn’t keep?

      Obviously, a nutcase like her.

      “Gabi...?”

      Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of his voice. She barely knew him, but Zach Davenport was a man who left a lasting impression.

      She fought to keep her own voice from rising to a higher pitch than normal. “Yes, um...”

      Silence came over the line. Then he cleared his throat. “How can I help you, Gabi?”

      That voice...that rich tenor voice. A random thought crossed her jumbled mind. Did he sing? She suspected he’d be good—

      “Ah...Gabi?”

      She blinked. “Yes...well, I, uh, wondered how the little guy has settled in. And I saw the lights still on inside the shelter on my way home. Besides, you’d said the phone would ring directly to you, so I could call whenever. So, um, that’s what I did.”

      Oh, no. She sounded like a blubbering fool. She shook herself to try and get it together. “How is he doing? Did someone adopt him?” She held her breath waiting for his response.

      Which didn’t come. The seconds ticked by.

      “Zach?” she asked.

      The silence continued. Then he coughed. “Well, you see, it appears we have a, uh, small problem.”

      Uh-oh. “A problem?”

      “It appears your little buddy has...well, escaped.”

      “No!” СКАЧАТЬ