The Healing Summer, page 11
She parked as well and climbed out. Antonio was waiting for her, but his expression had closed off. He was back to the formidable man she’d first met when he’d opened the door. She wanted to ask him who the visitor was, but she didn’t know if that was highly personal.
Antonio strode to the front door, opened it, and said, “I think you’re about to meet my ex-wife.”
Jo couldn’t have been more surprised, but then again, she was at his home. Voices sounded from the direction of the kitchen. Women talking, mixed with a younger, higher-pitched voice. His daughter?
“Come with me,” Antonio said. “Stella is probably with them, too.”
Jo nearly cringed as the voices turned to laughter. She’d be walking in on family time, it seemed, and with Antonio’s guard up, Jo wondered if she should even be here. Were there family issues to sort out? If his daughter was here, why wasn’t Antonio more pleased? Surely, he could stand to be in the same room with his ex?
Whatever was going on with the Gallo family dynamics, Jo didn’t expect what she saw in the kitchen. A voluptuous woman—who had to be the former Mrs. Gallo—stood at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables. She was pretty, with wide hazel eyes and an abundance of dark hair with lighter streaks. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, as Jo had assumed. Of course, her figure was another matter, and she didn’t hide much of her curvy shape with her lowcut summer dress. A young girl sat perched on a chair, her arms around an older woman—the grandmother. And Stella stood at the stove, stirring a boiling pot of pasta.
“Toni,” the woman said, setting down the paring knife.
“Papa!” the young girl said at the same time. She wriggled away from her grandma and launched herself at Antonio’s waist.
He pulled her close into a hug. “Hello, my cara.”
“Where were you?” the young girl asked, her face upturned. She was a mirror image of her mother, although her eyes were darker—like Antonio’s.
“Just in time for dinner,” his ex said, her gaze cutting to Jo. Her smile stretched, and on most people, it would be welcoming. But on this woman, it felt off somehow. “Who’s this?”
“Jo Sampson,” he said, peeling his daughter away from her clutch and setting her on the stool close by. “Jo, this is Valentina.” Then he motioned to the older woman. “And my mother, Gianna.”
“Don’t forget me!” a young voice said.
Antonio’s eyes swung to his daughter. “I could never forget you, cara. This is Teresa.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Jo said, trying to hold onto a genuine smile even though so many pairs of eyes were assessing her. She extended a hand in Gianna’s direction. But instead of shaking her hand, Gianna stepped forward.
“We greet like Italians in our home,” she said, air-kissing each of Jo’s cheeks.
“Yes,” Valentina said, her smile tighter as she moved around the counter. The woman air-kissed Jo’s cheeks as well, and next, Stella took her turn.
Goodness. Jo felt … surrounded. And self-conscious. The women of the Gallo family all wore expensive perfumes. Jo probably smelled like the dog she’d been petting a half-hour ago.
“Are you hungry?” Gianna asked.
“What brings you here?” Valentina said.
“Where’s Maggie?” Stella asked.
The three women laughed. “We’re going to scare you off,” Stella said with a wink.
“Who’s Maggie?” the little girl piped up.
While Stella explained about Maggie and Orlando, Jo felt Valentina’s assessing gaze on her. Why did she feel like she was on a stage with a spotlight shining down on her?
“Can you fill the wine glasses, Toni?” Valentina said, moving back to the cutting board. “And don’t forget which wine is my favorite.”
Antonio only nodded. Jo tried not to watch the pair of them and stay focused on Teresa and Stella’s chatter.
“Uncle Orlando knew Jo?” Teresa said, her eyes wide.
“No,” Stella said. “Jo’s friend Maggie.”
“Then she must be very old!”
Stella laughed, and Jo smiled.
Valentina had moved to where Antonio was pouring wine at the table. Her long nails skimmed his forearm as she leaned close and spoke quietly.
He flinched and moved around the table.
Valentina smiled, her gaze triumphant.
Jo had to look away—it felt like she was spying on some sort of intimate moment. Even if Antonio seemed put off, his ex-wife was clearly still interested in him. Strange and confounding. Well, not exactly confounding, because Antonio was a beautiful man. This only made Jo more curious about why they’d divorced in the first place.
The next two days passed swiftly as Jo worked with Maggie and Stella in the gallery at the estate, instructing the movers they’d hired to pack and transport the art pieces. The process took a while, because Maggie had to examine each piece, and she usually had a memory resurface about Orlando that they all listened to as she shared.
It was fun, it was good, except for the way that Jo’s heart continued to betray her. Every time Antonio came into the room, either to talk to Stella about something or to help, Jo’s pulse went up about three notches.
Apparently, his daughter, Teresa, was staying the entire week at the estate. Her mother had a last-minute trip planned with some girlfriends. Antonio was perfectly pleasant around his daughter, but it seemed the moment she was occupied with something else, his brooding would return.
And Mrs. Gianna Gallo? She was something else. She talked of her former daughter-in-law as if she were still part of the family. Which she was, technically, since she was the mother to Gianna’s granddaughter. But that only made Jo’s regret all the more pronounced when she overheard a conversation—more like an argument—between Antonio and his mother.
Jo had gone to the kitchen to get everyone something to drink while they worked. She also planned to call Liam’s number to see if Alec was around to talk. Since his first hint at wanting to live at his dad’s, all of Jo’s conversations with him had been cut short for one reason or another. And Jo hadn’t wanted to approach the topic with Liam until she knew more from her son.
She stopped outside the kitchen, keeping out of sight, when she heard the raised voices.
“She still loves you, Toni,” Gianna was saying. “She’s not perfect, but you aren’t, either.”
“I’m not saying I’m a saint, Mother,” he shot back. “And I don’t expect my wife to be perfect, but loyalty is important in a marriage.”
His mother made a sort of half-cry.
Antonio’s footsteps sounded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not you, though. My heart isn’t as forgiving as yours.”
A sniffle.
“It wasn’t just that once, you know,” he murmured.
Jo brought a hand to her heart. Were they talking about …
“I know,” his mother said, her voice trembling. “She told me the affair lasted for two months, but that she regrets every moment.”
A sigh. From Antonio. “That was the first affair.”
Gianna gasped. “Valentina told me—”
“Mother,” he said in a firm voice. “Valentina told me a lot of things, too. But I had her followed by a private investigator. There was a second affair. That’s when I threatened divorce.”
“When was that?” Gianna’s tone was disbelieving.
“When Teresa was five,” he said, disdain in his tone. “I stuck it out for two more years. And two more affairs.”
“She had more affairs?” His mother’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “But I thought things were getting better, and then she was pregnant …”
“It wasn’t my child.”
The bitterness in his tone felt like a claw at Jo’s throat. She knew that bitterness. Had tasted it every day for the past few months.
“I don’t believe it.” His mother sounded shocked. “Even Valentina wouldn’t stoop that low.”
“She did,” Antonio said. “When she miscarried, she laughed when I expressed my own sorrow. She said that it wasn’t mine, anyway, so there was nothing to cry about.”
Jo covered her mouth with her hand.
Antonio had gone through so much with the woman who thought she could keep him as a plaything. And they had a daughter together who would forever bond them the rest of their lives.
“I’m so sorry, son,” his mother murmured.
Jo turned and headed toward the back terrace. She needed some fresh air. The confession she’d heard was twisting her heart, and she understood Antonio’s dark moods all too well now. She couldn’t blame him in the least. The pain and bitterness in his voice had been palpable. His grief was far from healed.
The cool breeze coming off the pond was refreshing, and she readjusted her haphazard ponytail. She’d been so focused on working in the gallery that her appearance had been the least of her concerns. She probably looked a sweaty mess, though.
Jo didn’t know how long she was on the terrace before someone joined her. They hesitated, then a low voice said, “You overheard, didn’t you? I thought I heard footsteps, but I wasn’t sure, and then I find you here when you haven’t left that gallery for three days.”
She couldn’t turn; she couldn’t face him.
He joined her at the rail, and both of them stared at the rippling water of the pond.
“I didn’t want to upset my mother, but she’s been so persistent,” Antonio said in a quiet voice. “Normally, I can ignore her jabs, but with Teresa here all week, we’re together a lot more.”
Jo glanced over at him. His hands gripped the railing so tight that his knuckles were white.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she said. “I’m sorry for all that you’ve had to go through.”
He blew out a breath and lowered his head. “I was made a fool twice, and then after that, I only shamed myself. Valentina won’t change, and I have to live with that.” He closed his eyes. “The worst thing is that I worry about Teresa and how to keep her from growing up to be like her mother.”
His words cut right to Jo’s core. Antonio had voiced her greatest fear. What if Alec turned out to be a cheating womanizer like his father?
She moved to Antonio’s side, and without thinking what her actions might mean, she grasped his hand. He didn’t pull away, and he didn’t act shocked. Then he turned his hand so that their fingers linked.
His fingers were warm against hers, his palm solid, and she swore she could feel the pulse of his wrist beating as fast as hers.
They only held hands for a few seconds, until a sound from somewhere within the house drew them apart, bringing Jo back to reality. She moved back to her place at the rail. “My son wants to live with his dad.” She felt Antonio’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look over at him. If she did and saw compassion there, she might get too emotional.
“He says he has friends in the neighborhood, and they’re asking him to go to school with them.” Jo exhaled. “It’s not that I don’t want him to have a great school year. And I don’t resent the time he spends with his dad … it’s his fiancée.”
“He’s engaged again?”
Jo dipped her head in acknowledgment. “To the woman he left me for. And she’s been great to Alec. I think knowing that my son has a relationship with the woman who came between me and Liam is what hurts the most about all of this.”
Antonio didn’t respond for a moment. Then he straightened. “Want to go somewhere? For a drive? Get out of here for a couple of hours? I think my mother would be grateful for the space.”
Jo looked over at him. Was this about giving his mother space, or was this about something more? Her heart rate had already doubled, giving her the answer. “I really should get back to the gallery.”
His dark brown eyes scanned her face. Something in his expression sent a warm shiver straight to her belly, and she drew in a breath.
“The gallery isn’t going anywhere, and the hired workers can earn their pay.”
Jo’s breath released. “All right. I’ll go tell Maggie.” She turned, but before she could take a step, Antonio grasped her wrist.
“I’ll tell my mother on the way out,” he said. “We don’t need to announce it to the masses. They’ll find out soon enough.”
Jo found herself smiling. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Antonio dropped her wrist, but he was close enough that Jo could smell his spice and soap. His mouth lifted. “Let’s go pick out a car, then.”
Jo had all kinds of questions about that statement, but she held off for now. She walked with him back to the kitchen, where his mother sat at the counter with a cup of tea, or maybe coffee. She looked up, a hopeful expression on her face as her son entered.
Jo hovered in the doorway, unsure of where her place was in all of this.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” Antonio said, bending to kiss her cheek. “Can you watch out for Teresa? I’m taking Jo for a drive.”
Gianna’s eyebrows skyrocketed, and she cut her gaze to Jo.
Should Jo say something? Anything? Nothing?
“We’ll be back before dinner,” Antonio continued, then he walked toward Jo. Placing his hand on her lower back, he steered her out of the kitchen.
Jo was pretty sure her cheeks were flaming over the way Antonio had announced their excursion to his mother. He dropped his hand within seconds, but the message was clear to anyone who happened to notice. Antonio was interested in her. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Or if she could even fully believe that a man like him, beautiful and broken as he was, saw a kindred spirit in her.
Not that she thought he was romantically interested. No. But they had a connection. A growing bond. And it couldn’t be denied.
Friends. They could be good friends. After all, their paths would surely cross if they were both connected to Maggie and Orlando over the length of Maggie’s life.
When Antonio opened one of the garage doors, Jo stood back and gaped. The interior of the garage was immaculate, and the walls whitewashed. In neat order, four cars were parked. Not one of them was ordinary or plain. She didn’t even know their names, but they were gorgeous.
“What’s the yellow one?” she asked, literally unable to look away from the sleek sports car.
Antonio grinned. “You like it, huh? I call her Shirley, and she’s a ’71 Chevrolet Corvette Coupe.”
“Sounds expensive.”
This time, Antonio laughed. “She’s worth every red cent. I think you’ll agree when we’re less than a mile down the road.”
“We can take it?” Jo asked, incredulous. “It’s immaculate. Won’t dirt or something get on it?”
Antonio chuckled and lifted a hand to push away a hair that had strayed to her cheek. “You make me laugh, cara.”
Cara. She’d heard him call his daughter that, and Jo could deduce that it was some sort of endearment. He was already walking away, toward the Corvette, but she still felt the warm brush of his fingertips against her skin.
Breathe, Jo silently commanded herself. It’s just a drive.
She was soon proven wrong, though. Nothing could be just a drive with Antonio Gallo behind the wheel of a sports car.
Once they reached the highway, Antonio opened up the car, increasing the speed. The wind tugged at Jo’s ponytail, loosening it until her hair was streaming behind her. She wanted to whoop, or laugh, or shout something as the adrenaline pumped through her veins at the exhilaration she felt.
Antonio drove like he was a professional racecar driver—thankfully not that fast, but fast enough that Jo was out of breath within moments.
He glanced over at her, his eyes light with joy and his smile wide. “What do you think?”
“This car is amazing.”
Antonio laughed, but his gaze lingered on her longer than she expected. When he finally refocused on the road, Jo had to reconvince her heart that friendship with Antonio was all that she could, and should, expect.
The new gallery had been cleaned professionally over the past few days, and Maggie was thrilled with the progress. Antonio had been more than helpful and had brought in contractors to rewire the electrical lights and make other smaller repairs. The painters finally finished the main floor and were working on the upstairs space now. The wood floors had already been sanded down and re-stained, which explained the sharp chemical smell in the air.
The painters had opened all the windows, along with propping open the front doors. The morning was warming up quickly, but Maggie loved the fresh air combined with the sounds of the wharf mixing in with the morning traffic.
Maggie walked through the empty space of the gallery, which felt cavernous right now, as she planned and sketched in a notebook where she wanted each art piece to go. She’d erased a lot and redrawn the sections. But overall, things were coming together.
“Good morning,” a deep voice said behind her.
She turned to see Antonio walk in holding a sack of bagels and a carrier with foam coffee cups.
“Good morning.” Maggie smiled at the soft expression on his face—something she’d noticed of late—and she suspected it had to do with his friendship with Jo.
They’d been quite chummy, although Jo had denied any attraction or dating potential. Well, she had admitted she found him handsome and charming—as any woman would. But for the rest of it, Jo seemed determined to hold onto her decision of not being ready to date or enter into any type of relationship.
“Jo’s upstairs,” Maggie said.
“I’m looking for you.”
“Oh?” Maggie laughed. “I’ll believe that when I hear what you have to say.”
Antonio set the food and drinks down on one of the work tables, which was littered with a measuring tape, rulers, and graph paper. He leaned against the table and folded his arms. “I have a proposition for you to consider.”
This was interesting, and Maggie was all ears. She moved toward the table and opened the sack. He’d brought her favorite bagels—onion. “Well?” she said, meeting his gaze. “What’s the proposition, Mr. Gallo?”
The edges of his eyes crinkled with the humor she’d seen in him more and more of late.
