Chapter 8 #2
“Good morning,” Luca said, because his Nonna would’ve had his head for being rude. It was bad enough he’d backed Giana into a corner, though if he knew Nonna at all, she’d have approved of that particular move.
“Is it?” Giana said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Yes,” Luca said crisply. It was, though not for the reasons she thought.
Oliver was down the street, probably just pulling loaves of bread out of his ovens, the sweet smell of yeast swirling around him. It was hard for it not to be a good day, when he could walk a few blocks down and see him and sink his teeth into another one of those delicious pastries.
He pulled out his phone and began to take pictures of the small dining room.
“What are you doing?” Giana asked, following him around as he documented every mediocre inch.
“Taking pictures and sending them to my sister,” Luca said. “She’s got a flair for this kind of thing. She helped remodel our own restaurants a few years back, and the difference was astounding.”
“And where are we going to get the money for this?” Giana asked archly.
“Just trust me on this,” Luca said, as he snapped pictures of every angle of the sign. “Can Enzo do more of these?” He paused. “And where is he? I thought he was supposed to be here.”
“He’ll be here.”
“Tomorrow, he’ll be here on time,” Luca said firmly.
Unlike his family, which worked late at the restaurants, his sisters Chiara and Ilaria, who lived and worked in the Bay Area, got up early because they served coffee and pastries every morning.
He attached the images to an email to Chiara and then, after telling Giana she’d better find out quick where Enzo was, stepped outside to call her.
“Big brother,” Chiara said, actually answering his call, to his surprise. He’d expected to just leave a voicemail explaining the email and pictures and asking her to get back to him with what she thought they could do with the space. “You’re up early.”
“No, it’s just past eight here,” he said. “Didn’t Mama tell you? I’m with Giana for the next few weeks, helping her out at the deli in Indigo Bay.”
“You mean you’re fixing her deli,” Chiara said slyly. “But that makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” Luca’s spidey senses were immediately alert. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Chiara said. “Just surprised you were up so early, that’s all. What do you need? Make it quick, we’re about to open the coffee shop.”
“I sent you an email with a bunch of pictures of the deli,” Luca said. “When you get a minute, if you could take a look, maybe figure out a way we could spruce it up a little.”
“How much?” Out of all the Moretti children, Chiara was the most like him, endlessly pragmatic. Which he really liked about her.
However, even if he’d liked that about her, apparently he’d still driven her off, or so his mother liked to tell him—and Gabriel too, when he gave her the chance.
He couldn’t help it. He was who he was. Exacting and arrogant and particular.
“Not as much as we spent. A lot less, hopefully.”
“The deli’s doing that badly, huh?” Chiara asked.
Luca didn’t like to admit it. It felt like a personal failure, even though he’d hardly been involved up til now. “We’re going to turn it around.”
Her tone grew sly. “How much does Auntie Giana hate you right now?”
Luca glanced in one of the big picture windows and saw her on the phone, expression filled with frustration and annoyance—talking to Enzo, then, probably. “A lot,” he admitted.
“You do know what’s best though,” Chiara said thoughtfully. “Whether she likes it or not.”
“Thanks,” Luca said dryly.
“How about I send a two-part plan,” Chiara said. “Some cheap-ish sprucing up for now, and bigger plans for later, when the business is better off.”
“Perfect,” Luca said. “I knew I could count on you.”
He could practically hear her eye roll through the phone.
“Once a Moretti, always a Moretti,” she said. “I gotta go.”
Ten minutes later, while he was going over the documents he’d had his lawyer draw up making the new arrangement official and binding, Enzo showed up.
He looked even sulkier than before, if that was possible.
It astounded Luca that he’d actually had the nerve to take Oliver out and then alienate him.
How stupid could you be to have a man like that and let him slip through your fingers?
Well, you’d have to be very stupid, and Enzo was clearly feeling that acute stupidity now, because the first thing he said—or sneered—to Luca was, “Did you have fun last night?”
“Enzo,” Giana chided.
“It’s none of your business, but yes.”
“I warned you about Oliver.”
“No,” Luca said steadily. He didn’t want to engage Enzo about this, but if they didn’t put it to rest, he’d never be able to attempt to focus and listen. “No, you did not warn me. You offered your own poor experience, and I decided to improve upon it.”
“Oh,” Enzo said, tilting his head, “like you improve everything, huh?”
“Yes.” He wasn’t going to make excuses for being the best at what he did. He definitely wasn’t going to apologize for it.
Enzo rolled his eyes. “You’re such a fucking cold asshole, I’m shocked you didn’t give Oliver frostbite.”
“Enzo,” Giana hissed under her breath.
“Let me be very clear,” Luca said, trying to rein in his temper.
It usually wasn’t very hard, but Enzo pushed all the buttons.
“I said it before, but maybe I wasn’t clear enough: it is none of your business, and if you continue talking about Oliver that way, or Oliver at all, I’m going to make you stop. ”
Enzo opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. Probably because he knew Luca could absolutely make him if he set his mind to it.
It wouldn’t be very hard, Luca theorized, and it would be very satisfying to wipe that semipermanent smirk off his cousin’s face.
“Guess he was pretty good, huh?” Enzo said it under his breath and Luca snapped, before he even had a prayer of controlling himself.
He grabbed Enzo’s collar and pushed him back against the counter, terror widening his brown eyes.
He heard Giana’s panicked gasp from behind him, but he didn’t let go.
Enzo wiggled, but he still didn’t loosen his grip.
They might be nearly the same height, but Luca was strong.
Easily strong enough to deal with this worm.
“What did I just say?” Luca asked in a low, furious voice.
“Fine, fine, do whatever you want with him. It’s not like we were going to date anyway.”
“No shit,” Luca said. Finally let go and took a step back. Took a short, deep breath. “Now, on to actually important business.”
“What?” Giana looked shocked, eyes wide. “But—”
“Keep up,” Luca barked. It wasn’t just Enzo’s stupid crap causing his temper to bubble up, but the fact that he’d been having a spectacular morning and it seemed both Giana and Enzo were determined to destroy every bit of it with their bullshit. “We’re trying to save your business here.”
“Right.”
“As I was saying before Enzo decided to grace us with his presence, these documents,” Luca said, gesturing toward the contract Giana had printed out, “will protect both of us.”
It was the kind of contract Matteo and Nicoletta should have had her sign from the beginning, if they were going to lend her their money and the recipes. They should have protected themselves. Protected the brand.
Luca wasn’t all that surprised he had to clean up the mess now; part of him had come to expect it.
Giana signed. Enzo signed, because Luca insisted on it, even though according to Giana she had yet to officially give him any part of the business. Someone, Luca decided, had to make him give a shit, and apparently that was going to be him.
At least Enzo kept quiet, but the sulkiness in his expression was more intense than normal. Luca ignored it.
He agreed that they would use the rest of the frozen meatballs and sauce this week. Next week, starting Monday, they would be making fresh every day.
“And the bread,” Luca added. “I’ll contract with Oliver to make it.” He shot a hard look at Enzo, daring him to say anything. But he still stayed sullenly silent. Thank God for small blessings.
“I don’t know if we can afford that,” Giana argued.
“I’ll make sure you can,” Luca said. “I’ll be going over your financials with a fine-tooth comb this morning, while you and Enzo prep for the lunch crowd today.”
He’d been afraid she’d argue with him, but she just looked relieved.
Maybe happy someone else was going to be taking on the financial burden, at least for a little while.
God knew Enzo had never given her a break.
But as he settled down in the little office off the kitchen with Giana’s laptop and booted it up, Luca found he couldn’t quite focus.
It wasn’t the very healthy dose of distraction Oliver provided.
It wasn’t how he’d sincerely wanted to beat Enzo’s face in and hadn’t been able to.
It was the way Chiara had said, that makes sense. And the false note in her nothing that had followed his question.
He’d let it go, but it was bothering him still, lingering in the back of his mind.
He’d been in Indigo Bay for four days now and he’d barely heard anything from California. The regular reports had been uploaded, of course, and he’d reviewed them last night, as Oliver had slept next to him in bed.
But there’d been no emergencies or problems or even minor panics.
Luca had worked at the restaurants for years—for basically his entire life—and he knew how unusual that was.
There was always something, and surely everyone back home knew to contact him in case something came up.
Not just because they thought he should be informed, but because typically, Luca was the only one who could truly solve anything.
He liked it that way.
Loved having his finger on the pulse of every single one of the restaurants.
And there’d been nothing. For four days.
Luca pulled his phone out of his pocket, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat had increased with the beginnings of his own panic, and sent two texts.
One to his father, who was the world’s worst liar, with a simple question about how everything was going.
Another to Marco, asking if he’d heard about the veal price increase.
And since he hadn’t quit thinking about what he and Oliver had talked about last night, a third, before he could change his mind, to Gabe. He didn’t think he’d respond, but it was worth trying. Worth reaching out. Oliver had said so, and he seemed to have a very solid head on his shoulders.
Maybe it was time to really put things in the past, between him and Gabe.
He couldn’t quite settle down until he got responses, at least from Matteo and Marco, but it was still really early in California and really, really early for anyone who worked in the restaurant business. He probably wouldn’t hear for a few hours, but at least he’d reached out.
And, Luca reasoned, if something catastrophic had happened, they would have told him. They wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret.
It wasn’t quite the reassurance he wanted—he wouldn’t get that until his concerns were alleviated—but it was enough to settle him down and let him lose himself in the numbers on Giana’s laptop.