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“Gotcha!” The shelter director scooped up Gabi’s find, undeterred by the dog’s filthy coat and strong eau de mutt scent, even though his nostrils did twitch.
“I hate to say it, but I do need to get back to Tony’s.” Her gaze stuck to the little dog. She wished she could—
No. She couldn’t let herself think like that. For the umpteenth time, she reminded herself that she was in no position to adopt a stray. “What do we need to do next?”
Zach narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips. But all he said was, “Paperwork. Let me put this guy in his own guest quarters so he doesn’t get away from us again, and then we can take care of the business end of things. You need to know we’re about to have an adoption fair in a week’s time. He’ll be included in it—all the animals in the shelter at that time will be. Are you sure about this?”
Tears stung Gabi’s eyes once again. No, she wasn’t sure. But she had a lease to honor. And she’d built a whole life somewhere else. She was sure of that. But about the dog...
She swallowed. Hard. “I’m sure.”
She hoped.
* * *
“Pretty girl, isn’t she?” Oscar Worley, the shelter’s most faithful volunteer, asked Zach a few minutes after Gabi Carlini had left.
“It’s a he.” Zach held the still-trembling new arrival close to his chest while the sink filled with warm water. “And I don’t know how you can say he’s pretty. Filthy and a ragtag assortment of dog breed parts? Yes. Cute once I wash him? Maybe. Lovable? Of course. But a pretty dog? No way.”
Oscar tsk-tsked. “Never made you out for a fool, Zach. The girl. That girl’s awfully pretty. She always has been a pretty one, with those big brown eyes and all that dark hair, ever since she was a little thing.”
Even though he fought it with all his might, the blush reached up to the roots of Zach’s hair. “Ah...well, I...um...paid attention to the dog. I did have a job to do.”
Oscar laughed. “Fess up, now, boss. I know Gabi and I know you. She’s pretty, you noticed, and it’s perfectly fine if you are drawn to a girl like her. No shame in that, son. None at all.”
To avoid Oscar’s too-keen gaze, Zach turned off the spigot and plopped his new charge into the warm water. “Now that you mention it, okay—” The pup’s yelps gave him cover, so he cut off his response. He turned to the dog but continued to glance at Oscar as he worked.
“A man could do worse, Zach,” the older man said. “Much worse. She’s a terrific young woman—smart, hardworking, with a heart as big as our Puget Sound.” He winked. “And pretty.”
Zach sent his friend a crooked grin. “I think you’ve said it about a dozen times, Oscar. I get your drift. But I’m the last man who’s looking for a ‘pretty’ girl. Not right now, that’s for sure. I’ve got a lot on my plate—too much.” He cleared his throat. “Remember, I’m new around here. Lyndon Point’s counting on me to put the shelter on solid footing, and that’s going to take up just about all of my time. Maybe a couple of years from now I’ll look around for one of these ‘pretty’ girls of yours. Right here in town, too, okay?”
“Just watch out, son.” The older man ran a hand through his thinning white hair. “The good ones, they don’t come around all that often, you know. If a man’s not paying attention, some other smarter fellow will snap up the one who’s walking by. Right out from under your nose.”
A squirt of canine shampoo frothed into gunky brown suds on the dog’s dirty coat. It was going to take multiple tries to get him clean. “That’s why I’m not looking these days. Right now, my situation’s not one that lends itself to dating. I can’t afford the time, so I don’t look. That way, the one that gets snapped up won’t cause me any heartburn. I choose to focus on the dogs. And the cats.”
Oscar reached for the industrial steel bucket on wheels where he’d mixed hot water and the shelter’s pungent antibacterial cleaner, and headed toward the rear section of kennels. “Just make sure you don’t pass up the right one just because you’re still letting what’s over and done with hold you back. Look around you, son. Smell the salt air. Trust God.” He drew a deep breath. “Otherwise, you could wind up filling your days with a bucket and a mop just to get out of an empty, lonely house. Like me.”
Zach sucked in a rough breath. He couldn’t deny the wisdom in his friend’s words, but although Oscar waited for a reply, he didn’t answer. He knew the older man was right to a point, but he wasn’t ready for a relationship. Not yet. His wounds were too raw.
And they hadn’t even been inflicted by a woman.
From his perspective, a romance-gone-wrong had to be easier to overcome. His failure had been greater, went more to the core than a rough breakup ever could. He’d failed in his career, his dream. Ever since the first time he’d helped his mother knead a lump of bread at the family kitchen table, he’d dreamed of owning a restaurant, of becoming a great chef. And he’d achieved it.
For too brief a time.
No eatery, no matter how elegant or welcoming or appealing, and no chef, no matter how creative, competent or caring, could succeed if diners fell ill. As they had at his restaurant.
Salmonella had stolen in on the produce he’d bought from an upscale organic operation, borne by unsterile fertilizer. Meals he’d prepared with those beautiful but invisibly tainted vegetables had sent people to the hospital. He’d endangered their health, their lives. Any of them could have died. It was a burden Zach would bear for the rest of his days.
No. He wasn’t ready to indulge in the frivolous pleasure of dating a pretty girl.
And, regardless of how Oscar saw her, Gabi Carlini was no longer a girl. She was a woman, a beautiful woman who loved dogs, in spite of her lease requirements, and pink, a color he’d always associated with sassy, lighthearted fun.
Did the association match Gabi Carlini, as well?
Chapter Three
As Gabi walked back to her parents’ restaurant, she couldn’t help but wonder what Zach thought of her. His steel-gray gaze had strayed toward her numerous times as she’d signed all those forms that turned the stray over to the shelter’s care. While she had no idea what he thought of her, she suspected whatever opinion he held didn’t much flatter her. His expressive eyes had said more than the words he’d spoken.
Of course, he didn’t know her crazy family, either, the whole extended lot of them. Even if he did know her parents from eating at Tony’s, which really didn’t count.
Why it mattered to her so much coming from him, she didn’t know. She just knew it did. Besides, she couldn’t stand the thought of any more taunts about Mafia dons or corny Dean Martin songs about pizzas and moons and people’s eyes. It had happened too often and with too many people. In fact, she’d had more than a bellyful of them to color her life in Lyndon Point a negative shade of embarrassment. Really, it shouldn’t matter, since she wasn’t likely to see him again other than to check on the dog, but the scenario had played itself out too often in her childhood and teen years.
She didn’t want it to happen with Zach Davenport.
Oh, good grief. What was she thinking? She had to get back to Cleveland before she let all the ancient history affect her life again. She had to get away from Lyndon Point before her hard-gained individual identity and self-esteem retreated to high school levels. To do that, she had to get Tony’s back on sure footing.
At the restaurant, Gabi put the dog and the shelter’s attractive new director out of her mind and marshaled her troops. With the help of her parents’ teen employees, she scrubbed, dumped, disinfected and still managed to keep the dining room open for hungry customers.
Hours flew by. Her back began to ache and Cleveland loomed even more appealing than before. She missed her routine back in Ohio, her uncomplicated life, her cute home, and especially her best friend and perennial roommate since college, Allison Stoddard.
A half hour later, on her way to the back door at Tony’s yet one more time, the need to touch base with that faraway life got to her, and Gabi paused to place a call. Allie answered with a squeal, and the two women chattered as they always did, about everything and nothing, with the exuberance of close friends. She didn’t, however, stop what she’d been on the way to do, but instead sandwiched her cell phone between her right ear and shoulder as she continued lugging the trash toward the door. This latest bag of iffy ingredients headed to the Dumpster felt even heavier than the others.
“You’d never believe it,” she told Allie. “I’m up to my eyeballs in spoiled cheese and pizza sauce, and such close contact with a Dumpster makes it awful to breathe deep.”
As she stepped out into the dingy alley, she wrinkled her nose in appreciation for Lyndon Point’s fresh sea air as she prepared her approach to the trash container. “It reeks up to higher than the peak of Mount Rainier. You can’t imagine how much stuff can hide in the back of a commercial cooler.”
“Did anyone come down with food poisoning?” Allie asked. “It sounds like you have the—ahem!—perfect recipe there.”
“Whoa, don’t even go there, woman!” Gabi gave her load another tug. “We dodged a bullet on that account.” She explained what had happened. “Fortunately,” she added, “the kids my parents employ served the stuff in the front of the fridge, so no one got sick. When I opened the cooler and started to move things around, though, I caught a funky whiff, and that sent me digging. That’s when I found the expired ingredients. But food poisoning? That spells death for a restaurant.”
Gabi dropped the weighty sack to grab her phone. “Hang on a sec. I need both hands to get this trash bag into the Dumpster.” Moments later, she wiped her hands on the seat of her shorts and picked up her cell again. “I’m back.”
Allie went on. “Why don’t you just close down the place, if it’s in such bad shape?”
“Because Mama and Papa—”
“I just love how you say their names, with that Italian accent. It’s so...I don’t know. Old Country...Tuscan...cultured European.”
“Oh, stop.”
That was all she needed. For even Allie to see her as Old Country. That was her family, not her.
Still, Gabi couldn’t deny she’d always thought of her parents by the old-fashioned names. She doubted she could change, since it happened spontaneously, even now. The best thing for her to do was change the subject.
“Anyway,” she said, her voice firm, her tone deliberate, “my parents can’t pay insurance premiums or co-pays if money doesn’t come in. The bills from Dad’s stroke could clear the national debt.”
With her usual lack of tact, Allie plowed on. “Then put your years of experience to good use and find yourself a chef and a manager, so you can hustle back here to Cleveland. Damon’s not happy about your absence.”
Damon Schuler, Gabi’s boss, wasn’t endowed with patience. “I have four weeks of saved vacation plus another three of personal time. He can handle the office. For goodness’ sake, he’s the one who started the business.”
Allie snickered. “When I stopped there for the files you asked me to get, he had his tie flipped over a shoulder, glasses at the tip of his nose, and his hair looked like a bird’s nest.”
Gabi managed the Cleveland office of Damon’s Executive Placements firm, and before leaving, she’d been converting the hard-copy files of the office’s most high-powered executive clients to digital format. She’d asked Allie to ship those files to Lyndon Point, and planned to catch up in the evenings after she’d finished at Tony’s.
“Oh, please,” she said, using more oomph than she felt. “Did he forget he used to run things before the business grew so big he had to open satellite offices in other states? Of course, he can do it. If not, he can get his wife to help. Irene managed the office before they married.”
“Great minds think alike! When he complained about you abandoning him to all your work, I suggested a temp, but he countered with something about Irene claiming she’s forgotten everything in the twenty years since she left.” She hesitated. “Then he mentioned a Wilma and Florida, and ushered me out of his office. He did sound upset. And who’s Wilma?”
Guilt fought Gabi’s common sense. “Wilma took over after Irene. She retired to Florida when I started. Besides, whose side are you on—Damon’s or mine?”
“I’m on mine. I want my roomie back.”
“Believe me, I’m not crazy about being back in my hometown, but I can’t leave. Papa’s stroke was serious, and Mama won’t leave him for a second. He’s not debilitated enough for a nursing home, but he has to learn to use the wheelchair, and can’t care for himself yet. Therapy should get him there, but it’s been only a month since...”
“I know.” Allie’s voice softened. “I’m just being a brat—sorry. I do understand and would do the same if it was Dad.”
Allie’s mother had died of complications from diabetes their junior year in college. Father and daughter had grown closer than ever in the ensuing years.
Gabi stood and grasped the doorknob. “I should have come home as soon as Mama called that first night, but I foolishly let her talk me into postponing my return. If only I’d been here sooner, I could have kept Tony’s from becoming such a mess.”
“And if wishes were fishes—what is that cliché? I know there is one.”
“Beats me. I’m just a business major—you’re the teacher.” She sighed. “Anyway, gotta go. This place needs me more right now than you need me back there. Or Damon.”
Her parents needed her. She was there for them, no matter what. No matter how much her memories of growing up in Lyndon Point rattled her. No matter what the great-looking guy at the animal shelter might think of her.
* * *
At nine forty-five that night, Gabi walked into the house, more exhausted than she’d felt in years, But she didn’t have the luxury of taking time off, since she had to keep the restaurant afloat for her parents’ sakes. She went to her room, grabbed clean shorts and a T-shirt and hit the shower to wash off the grime of the day. Clean again, she walked down the stairs and to the kitchen. She made a beeline to the refrigerator for an icy can of root beer. Mama always stocked up when she knew Gabi was coming home. As she popped the tab, a note on the table caught her attention.
Her parents had gone to bed already, her mother wrote, and would see her in the morning. The translated message spoke of her mother’s expectation of Gabi’s detailed account of things at Tony’s. But how could she do that? If either of her parents knew how she’d found the place, they’d insist on running it themselves again. That would be devastating for her father. He was in no condition to work. Not yet.
Maybe never again—
No! She couldn’t think that way. His doctors had said Antonio Carlini would recover, and they expected him to return to work soon enough. True, he might never put in twelve hours a day like he had in the past, but they believed he should be able to spend a decent amount of time making the pizzas, calzones and pastas he loved to serve his faithful customers.
If he gave his body the chance to recover.
“Oh, Lord,” she said on a sigh. “Bless him with Your strength, cradle him in the palm of Your healing hand.”
Of course, she couldn’t tell Mama or Papa what she’d found in that kitchen. Besides, while cleaning out the fridge, a germ of an idea had popped into her thoughts and found fertile soil in her imagination. Soon she’d seen the restaurant in a different light.
Now she was sure that with her business know-how, she could help her parents upgrade Tony’s. If, instead of the kitschy pizza place it always had been, she were to turn it into a chic and elegant Italian bistro, surely they’d see reason. She felt certain positive change would inspire them to leave behind some of their more outdated ways. Then, if her parents led by example, maybe some of her other relatives would follow. Maybe the whole famiglia would see that toning things down a notch was the way to go. Never mind that Tony’s would make a lot more money in the process, with an upscale menu and an upmarket appeal. Those medical bills loomed enormous in Gabi’s mind, just as they did in her parents’ minds.
She pulled out a chair, kicked off her flip-flops and sat down to enjoy her root beer. As always, Mama had dimmed the lights in the kitchen, leaving enough illumination so no one would trip if they came down for a midnight snack or something to drink. Still, the low light let Gabi look around and appreciate the warmth and cozy appeal of the efficient space.
Her parents had bought their home when she was small, before property in the coastal areas just outside of Seattle, like nearby Edmonds and in Lyndon Point, had grown prohibitive. True, the house had been practically a wreck back then, but with equal amounts of elbow grease and love, the large Cape Cod–style white cottage had become a jewel. Even the kitchen.
These days, the cabinets were a glossy white, easy to clean and bright even on the Pacific Northwest’s dreariest days. Red-and-white-checked curtains framed the windows, a cheery echo of the red-and-white checkerboard-tile floor. A sprinkling of Mama’s red tchotchkes, her red apron, four sassy red canisters and Papa’s outrageous cookie jar—an enormous white rooster with a scarlet comb—turned the place into the whimsical family hub it had always been.
She smiled. This was the room that came to mind whenever she thought of home. Even though she’d tried, she’d been unable to replicate its feeling in the kitchen of the bungalow she and Allie shared in Cleveland, and that failure drove her crazy at times, since she’d tried so hard to get it right. The cabinets were almost identical in style and color, the curtains yellow-and-white checked, and she and her roommate had spent a whole lot of time shopping for the abundance of clever blue-and-yellow accessories they’d arranged around the room. It was a very pretty kitchen, perfect in every concrete aspect, but even so, that missing something-or-other eluded her.
It needed something special, something that gave it life.
Before she could stop it, the image of the stray jelled in her thoughts. How sweet it would be to have his company right then, to have him snuggle into the curve of her neck again. Gabi could almost hear the sound his claws would make against the kitchen floor as he trotted close.
A knot formed in her throat, and she wondered how the rascal was doing. The urge to hold him again made her sadder than she could have expected.
“You can call to check up on him,” Zach had said before she’d left. “The phone here is connected to my cell, so I can be reached whenever anyone finds a stray animal. You can call me anytime.”
The memory of the shelter director’s words was swiftly followed by the awareness of the lights she’d noticed on in the building when she’d walked past it about a half hour earlier. Was Zach Davenport still there? Would he really answer if she called?
She pulled out the business card he’d given her from the pocket of the clean cutoffs she’d put on after her shower. She stared at it, the need to know growing greater by the minute. Her stomach tightened with apprehension—and a touch of anticipation, too—as she dialed the number on the card.“Hello?” he said after the third ring.
She drew in a breath. “Hi...Zach? It’s Gabi. Gabriella Carlini. I dropped off a stray earlier today.”
It occurred to her to check the red-and-white clock above the stove. Almost ten o’clock. Oh, great. What nutcase called this late just to check on a dog she couldn’t keep?
Obviously, a nutcase like her.
“Gabi...?”
Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of his voice. She barely knew him, but Zach Davenport was a man who left a lasting impression.
She fought to keep her own voice from rising to a higher pitch than normal. “Yes, um...”
Silence came over the line. Then he cleared his throat. “How can I help you, Gabi?”
That voice...that rich tenor voice. A random thought crossed her jumbled mind. Did he sing? She suspected he’d be good—
“Ah...Gabi?”
She blinked. “Yes...well, I, uh, wondered how the little guy has settled in. And I saw the lights still on inside the shelter on my way home. Besides, you’d said the phone would ring directly to you, so I could call whenever. So, um, that’s what I did.”
Oh, no. She sounded like a blubbering fool. She shook herself to try and get it together. “How is he doing? Did someone adopt him?” She held her breath waiting for his response.
Which didn’t come. The seconds ticked by.
“Zach?” she asked.
The silence continued. Then he coughed. “Well, you see, it appears we have a, uh, small problem.”
Uh-oh. “A problem?”
“It appears your little buddy has...well, escaped.”
“No!” Gabi’s stomach tightened into rock. “I can’t believe this. You couldn’t have been so careless with him—”
