Chapter 26 – Penelope
S ugar and spice filled the air. My side ached, but if I moved slowly enough, it didn’t impede the baking process. Which was good. I needed this homely activity to quiet my mind after the chaos of the last few days.
I pulled a tray of perfectly golden cookies from the oven as a fancy gust of wind blew into the kitchen. Sliding the parchment paper onto the rack, I turned and smiled at my sister-in-law. “I baked. Want a cookie?”
The look of shock on her face was priceless.
“I have three varieties,” I continued, gesturing to the platters. “I wasn’t sure what everyone around here liked.”
“You—” Serena gaped.
“Yes?” I cocked my head, bracing for her snide comment.
Serena cleared her throat. “You can bake?”
“Mhmm,” I confirmed the obvious. “I can cook too, but it’s just not the same as crafting sweet treats.”
“Gold diggers don’t cook,” she muttered in Italian. “Where in the seven hells did my brother find you?”
I grabbed a small plate from the cabinet. It’d taken all morning, but I was familiar with the space and could find whatever I needed.
“Here, grab whatever looks good to you.” I held out the plate. She thought I was here for her brother’s money? Well, I was just going to have to prove that was not the case. “Or if you prefer something special, I can whip up a batch if we have the ingredients.”
Serena stared at me as if I’d grown two extra heads. She didn’t move to take the plate. “Why are you being nice to me?”
I sighed and set the plate on the island between us. Today started with good intentions. Between her feverish brother, who still swore he wasn’t sick, and this cold, hostile greeting, it was hard to keep that resolve.
“There’s no terrible ulterior motive,” I promised. “I’m being nice because that’s who I am. It doesn’t make sense not to try and get along. We have to coexist.”
“Coexist...the perfect way to live.” The bitterness in her tone made me pause and look over my shoulder as I prepared to load the oven with another tray of cookies.
Was that my future? Poppy was frightened and docile. Serena was jaded and spiteful. They were both so young! What kind of life was this, wealthy but lonely, growing up with the big secret of the mob hanging ever-present in the background?
“I’m going to fix your brother some lunch,” I chatted, going to the fridge to find ingredients. “Do you know what he likes?”
Before the flabbergasted mafia princess could respond, the crusty old butler sailed into the room. “The maids will do that, signora.”
I waved my hand dismissively at him. “It’s really no trouble. I need to eat, and so does Mancini. I’ll just make him a plate and—”
“Madam,” the butler clipped out. “That is not how this household runs.”
Turning sharply—and quickly hiding the wince from the sudden movement—I pinned him with a hard look. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” he insisted. “I found Miss Notaro hovering in the corridor, and your presence in the kitchen is not only irregular, but it is interfering with her and the other maids’ work.”
“She’s welcome to come work in here with me,” I insisted. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind the company.” It would make this place feel less like a haunted mansion.
“If you’re going to live in this household, there are certain things the lady of the house must and must not do.” Shepherd glared down his aquiline nose at me.
“Uh-huh, and you don’t think I’m lady material. So what’s the problem?” I countered, glancing at the oven and realizing I didn’t set the timer for the cookies.
“The problem, signora, is that you’ll never live up to the expectations—”
“Shepherd!” The don’s voice thundered through the kitchen.
The old man paled.
Serena’s eyes widened. She’d been unusually quiet, watching the drama unfold. It was probably the most entertainment the poor woman had around here.
Dante burst into the kitchen, Mancini a step behind him.
I sent a quick prayer to the heavens for strength.
The don prowled toward his butler, anger momentarily chasing away the fatigue of illness. “What the fuck did you just say about my wife?”
Oh, good grief. “He was explaining how I could be a better mafia wife,” I said quickly. “I’m taking notes so I can be the perfect little bride for you—in public.”
Mancini shot me a cold glare. “That wasn’t what it sounded like.”
I planted a hand on my hip. “And what did it sound like then?”
“An insult.” Mancini’s voice hardened. “No one insults my wife, I don’t care if he’s been here a long time.”
“He might not have had the most tactful delivery, but that’s not a problem. I happen to like prickly old cactuses! He makes life interesting, and your house wouldn’t run like a well-oiled tractor if it wasn’t for him,” I insisted.
The don paused, looking between us. “He wasn’t insulting you?”
“No!” My brain scrambled to twist the truth. There was no reason for the don to come down hard on the old man. I could take the criticism. In fact, I didn’t mind sparring with the butler. The look in Mancini’s eye told me he didn’t believe me, so I added, “Okay, yes, Shepherd might need to warm up to me, but I like the challenge. So don’t you dare lay a finger on him or you’ll have me to answer to!”
A thick silence filled the kitchen.
I either crossed a line by defying the boss in front of everyone, or I just saved the old man’s hide. To make sure it went my way, I forced a sweet smile and pointed to the cookies. “Would anyone like one while they’re still hot?”
“I would,” Serena piped up.
It was my turn to feel shocked. Her readiness to diffuse the situation surprised me when I would have expected her to escalate it. But I recovered quickly, pushing the plate to her.
“Watch how you speak to my wife,” Mancini warned in Italian before he and Dante left.
I caught the second snatching several cookies on his way out the door. The butler left a moment later.
Sighing, I leaned against the counter. “That was close.”
“You stood up for Shepherd,” Serena murmured, fidgeting with the cookie on her plate.
“Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “He didn’t need to be chastised for his opinions. He only thinks that way of me because he really cares about this place and the family.”
Serena nodded before taking the cookie plate and standing. At the door, she turned. “By the way, it’s cacti, not cactuses.”
The teasing lilt to her voice, coupled with the smile on her face, was promising. Hope fluttered through me. Was this an olive branch? Or just a demented game to her? Either way, I went with it.
“Really? I didn’t know that,” I said and checked the batch of cookies, which were perfect.
“I can find the dictionary,” my sister-in-law said dryly.
“You have one of those?” I smirked.
The woman rolled her eyes and left. Maybe, just maybe, I was getting through to her after all.
Sitting down in the spacious dining room with a plate of warm cookies and a large glass of coffee, I pulled out my phone. It took every drop of my remaining strength to dial the number I’d memorized as a little girl. The old rotary dial in the kitchen and the matching one in the living room didn’t have caller ID. In my head, I could hear the sharp peal of the bell chiming at the incoming call.
I hope you’re home….
“Greenbriar residence,” the baritone said through the void.
Relief swept through me, followed by a surge of emotions. He wasn’t in the field with the boys. “Hi Daddy, it’s Penny.”
“Well, I’ll be! It’s good to hear your voice, baby girl.”
I closed my eyes. “How’s Mom doing?”
“Oh, we’re fine, everyone’s fine,” he assured me. It wasn’t like he would say anything different. “How’s your trip? The kids have been giving me updates, but you’ve been gone a long time.”
“Yeah, about that—” I sucked in a deep breath. The truth was long overdue, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. So instead, I asked, “Jillian said mom’s heart surgery is scheduled at Mayo?”
“Oh, yeah.” Something fumbled in the background. “Don’t know how your sister pulled strings, but supposedly she wrangled some fancy surgeon and team to do the surgery.”
“I know.” I helped. “When do you guys drive down there?”
“We’ll go down a day or two before. Your sister has all the details worked out, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Now! I want to hear about this great big road trip you took.”
How did I lie to my father? I’d told them as much of the truth as I dared. If they found out where I’d gone, what kind of bargain I’d struck to make this possible….
No, I couldn’t risk it.
“I’ve actually got to catch a bus, but I promise I’ll call soon and tell you all about it!” I croaked.
“Penelope June, are you okay?”
Crap. Tears prickled in my eyes. It would be so much easier to deceive him if he wasn’t a good parent.
“Fit as a fiddle,” I assured him. “And I plan to be there, for the surgery.”
“Now, don’t be cutting your trip short for us, sweetie. You enjoy your adventure; you’ve earned it. Promise?”
I needed a hug. A great big bear hug.
“Promise,” I said with forced brightness.
“Good, now get along and don’t miss your bus,” my dad insisted. “Call when you can.”
“I will.”
The line cut off. I dropped my head onto my arms. The tears I refused to shed stayed locked up tight. I would do anything for my family. They were the only ones who loved me unconditionally.