Chapter 8 Jessiah
It was a damn cold night and I was very glad, after a short walk, to see the light-up sign above the door of the restaurant on Mulberry Street.
It was a Tuesday evening, and I could see through the large front windows that the place was full to bursting, but I wasn’t worried about getting a table.
There’d been a place reserved for me here since I was little, and hopefully always would be.
I pulled the door open, holding it for a couple coming out.
They looked sated, satisfied, and happy, like everyone who ate here.
That was exactly what I needed too, after having spent the whole day out and about with one of my clients trying to find him a suitable food truck—which meant crawling around freezing-cold delivery vans with a flashlight, checking the plumbing and electric.
It hadn’t even come to anything in the end.
“Jessio!” Taddeo Pagano beamed as I stepped inside and was immediately engulfed in the restaurant’s warmth, its cozy atmosphere, and the aroma of Italian food.
Two seconds later I found myself once again in Taddeo’s hearty embrace, before he took my face in his hands and looked me up and down, full of concern. “You’ve lost weight, my boy.”
“You’ve been saying that since I was five years old, and not once has it ever been true,” I said. “But don’t worry, I won’t say no to anything you put in front of me, even if I explode.”
“Now, you see, that’s all I wanted to hear.” He laughed. “You’re fit enough to handle a few extra calories.”
As if I’d ever counted calories. “Is Thaz here?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s in the back, at your table. Can we talk shop for a minute, later? Leonora’s been chewing my ear off about modernizing a few things in the kitchen.”
I gave him a look. “You don’t need my permission, you know that. I trust you. Just tell Leo she can send me the bill.”
After he’d died, I’d inherited my dad’s F they’d met at parties now and again while I was away.
“She sometimes came with when we used to go out nights. But she was seventeen or something, so I didn’t really take much notice.
I never really talked to her; she didn’t attract much attention—she mostly just worshipped her sister.
She got a bit lost in the gaggle of it girls always hanging around Valerie. ”
I couldn’t picture it, thinking about the girl I met on Sunday—and the look she’d given me.
Helena Weston wasn’t someone who could get lost anywhere.
On the contrary, she’d knocked me clean out, and not in the way I’d expected.
But how could I have guessed what would happen?
I’d gone after a woman who’d intrigued me more than anyone I’d ever seen before, even from a distance, only to find out that her rage—that same rage I knew all too well—had been meant for me, my family.
She’d caught me so off guard, the waves at Rockaway were a joke in comparison.
And it had only unleashed my own anger, which was still bothering me.
What made her think she had a monopoly on the truth?
And why was this all still on my mind the entire time?
“Why do you want to know about Helena?” Thaz’s voice brought me back to the present. “She lives in England, doesn’t she?”
“England?” I stared at him in confusion.
He nodded. “Her parents sent her straight to boarding school after Valerie died. Right after the funeral, as far as I know. She hasn’t been back to New York at all in the last few years. I think she even goes to college in Cambridge.”
That explained the slight British accent.
“If that’s true, then either she’s visiting—or she’s back.”
“How do you know? Have you met her?”
I nodded. “At my mom’s award ceremony. The Westons weren’t there, but I saw Helena at the bar at one point. I followed her when she left, and we talked.”
“Quite the thrill seeker,” Thaz remarked dryly. “Approaching a Weston—anyone ever tell you that was a bad idea? You may as well knock on the front door of the White House and ask to see the president.”
“I didn’t know who she was, damn it,” I said in my defense.
“How could you not know? Haven’t you ever seen photos of the Westons?”
I had, of course, but I clearly never paid much attention to Helena.
And because I hadn’t met her at all since I’d come back to New York, I’d blocked her out completely.
All I’d known was that there was another daughter besides Valerie, and that her name was Helena.
At least that had been all, until Sunday.
Now I was also aware that she was incredibly beautiful…
as well as extremely capable of pissing me off.
“I guess not. And she doesn’t exactly look like Valerie.”
The server came over, bringing us drinks we hadn’t ordered, but that didn’t surprise me. Taddeo was generous, and proud of his exceptional wine cellar.
“How did Helena react?” my friend asked, taking a sip of the red. “Jeez, where does old Taddy get a hold of these amazing wines?”
For that, he got a slap on the back of the head from our host, who had just appeared at our table. “Less of the old,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “And you know who my supplier is, Balthazar, but I’ve banned them from selling to you directly, otherwise I’d never see you in here again.”
Thaz laughed. “You know full well that’ll never happen, I don’t have to pay for the wine here. Or Leonora’s unbeatable food.”
I shook my head, grinning at the banter flying back and forth between them. “Keep talking, and I’ll let you pay in future,” I warned, reaching for my Coke. As much as it had pained my father, I’d never been a fan of red wine. If I did drink, then whiskey or gin, sometimes beer.
“Come on,” said Thaz. “Why do you think I have a friend who owns multiple restaurants?”
“So he can teach you some manners,” said Taddeo, giving Thaz another slap before he disappeared.