Mom doesn’t even hear him, though, since she’s back to peppering Carson with questions about school, basketball, and anything else she can think of to keep his mind off his parents. She tried to talk me out of letting him work, insisting he needed more time to mourn, but he’s old enough to know what he wants to do. I know he has complicated feelings about his parents, and I won’t force him to think about this until he’s ready.
But when he’s ready, I’ll be here to listen. For now, I think he’s enjoying my mother’s chatter.
When I first came down from my apartment to see Carson’s face poking out the top of a hug made almost entirely of matronly bosoms and slightly wobbly upper arms, I laughed so hard I nearly peed myself. Even now, thinking about the shock in his eyes as he looked down at the tops of their heads and all that fluffy, overly-teased, black hair tickled his nose because he’s at least six inches taller than the tallest of them, I can’t stop myself from snickering.
“He’s a good kid,” Dad says, drawing my attention away from Carson and my mother. “He’ll be alright, you know.”
“Yeah. He’s a great kid,” I say before turning my attention to my father. “You think it’s okay that he’s not very upset?” I’ve been worrying about how Carson was taking the knowledge of his parents’ passing ever since Wade banged on my door late last night to tell me the news. I thought he’d put on a brave face, but this seems like more than that. It almost seems like he doesn’t care.
My dad shrugs. “Who’s to say he isn’t upset? Give him some time. And get him some professional help.”
Dad goes back to his vegetables, leaving me with my thoughts.
Does Carson need someone to talk to? A therapist? I sneak a look at where he’s now regaling my mother and aunts with a tale that has them all laughing, and determine that talking to a therapist couldn’t hurt. Because even if he’s not upset, the situation with him running into the house to find them has to be weighing on him.
“Valentina? You got a second?” Wade speaks quietly, his voice barely audible over my family’s laughter. “Outside.” He walks down the back hallway, past the walk-in fridge and freezer, and out the door to the alley, not bothering to see if I follow.
I’m barely out the door when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me your family was coming?”
In the past, when my family decided they hadn’t seen enough of me, they would warn me before coming out to Tuft Swallow, giving me time to warn Wade. He’s tolerated my presence all these years, no doubt because he trusted I would never rat him out. But he’s never had to extend that trust to my family, because I’ve always given him warning of their visit. Seeing my dad on the sidewalk today must’ve scared the crap out of him.
“I’m so sorry, Wade.” I stoop, setting the doorstop to ensure it doesn’t close and lock us out here. “I didn’t know they were coming until they were already here. I had so much on my mind today that when my mom called to say they were standing in front of the restaurant, it didn’t even occur to me to warn you about it.”
Wade huffs, then tugs the wide lapels of his sport coat. “Your Nonna winks at me every time she calls me Wade,” he says, the corner of his mouth turning up despite the irritated tone of his voice. “And one of your aunts said I remind her of someone she used to know. She said if she ever saw him again, she’d tell himhow proud she was that he walked away from his life to save so many people.”
“For what it’s worth, I think everyone from the old neighborhood feels the same way about that man.”
He nods absently, his mind clearly somewhere else. “You might be right.” He claps his hands against his legs before turning his attention back to me. “That’s not really what I wanted to talk to you about. I came here to tell you... Shit, Valentina. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing available with two bedrooms in Tuft Swallow right now. I can probably get you into something reasonably priced in Spitz Hollow, but it would mean a longer commute for you. And it wouldn’t be anywhere as cheap as this place.” He tips his chin toward the back window of my tiny upstairs apartment. “I’d swap apartments with you, but my place is even smaller than yours, if you can believe it.”
I feel myself deflate, the positive thoughts I’d been having about getting custody of Carson gone in an instant as panic takes over. Finding the wall of the alley, I lean against it for support. If we have nowhere to live, he’ll have to go somewhere else. And I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. And that means I know what I have to do.
“Set up some viewings. If moving to Spitz Hollow is my only option, then that’s what I’m doing.”
Wade nods, giving me a sad smile. “I figured you’d say that. I have a few viewings set up for tomorrow. I’ll send you the addresses and times later.”
I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my racing heart. “Okay. Okay, that’s fine. Even with a commute of twenty minutes, I’m still working fewer hours than I did in the city. And I can cut back a little if I need to. It’s fine. Everything is fine.” I drag in another deep breath, still not convinced that everything will be okay. There’s so much that could still go wrong.
“I’ll help you however I can. After you find a new place, we can talk about the rent on the restaurant. We’ll get this figured out.”
“What?” I snap my head up and look at Wade. “No. I can’t let you do that. You already charge me next to nothing.” And that’s the only reason I can afford to keep my restaurant, but still. It’s not fair for Wade to foot the bill. Besides, business is picking up. I’ve seen the Spring Chickens a couple of times this week since explaining that they can order by the slice at the walk-up window. And since they’ve been hitting the walking trails with their hands full of pizza, a steady trickle of curious birdwatchers has been visiting me as well. It’s too early to say with certainty, but it feels like Wings and Pizza might make it after all. On top of that, if Nick orders catering a few times a year, I’ll have nothing to worry about.
He shrugs. “Too bad.”
“Wade...”
“Valentina?”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not asking then, isn’t it?” He grants me a rare grin, and I get a glimpse of the Uncle Gianni I remember from the old neighborhood. The one who used to pay the ice cream man so every kid could get a treat. The one who made sure none of us kids saw anything that could scare us when his associates tended to the mob business they’d come to town to conduct.
I can’t stop the answering grin from creeping onto my face. “Fine. We can talk about it.” I won’t accept it unless I have no other choice, but I have to admit, it’s nice to have a back-up plan.
“Good.” He takes a step toward the back door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll head back inside and see if your Aunt Maude wants to tell me more about this fella she used to know.It sounds like she was pretty fond of him.” He steps inside, hands in his pockets, while he whistles a cheerful tune like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like his real identity isn’t now known by seven more people than knew it this morning when he started this day. Seven people who have the potential to blow the life he’s created here to smithereens.
As I watch the door drift close behind him, I realize he’s whistling like... like a man who thinks he’s about to get some.
“Ew,” I say out loud when realization dawns on me. “Wade and Aunt Maude?” Is that why she never got married? Has she been pining after Wade—Gianni Scibetta—for all these years? Maybe my family’s surprise visit won’t be such a bad thing after all.
