Love Around the Corner Page 23

  “Oh, your girlfriend,” Mom said, startled. “I didn’t realize... How nice.”

  They exchanged polite greetings, and a handshake, Gemma clearly swallowing down her lingering resentment.

  “I thought we’d go out today, Mom, if that’s okay with you?”

  Her hands fluttered up to her hair, which was pulled back in a clip. “Oh...out?” She spent far too much of each day rattling around alone inside that house, slipping further and further away from the world. Getting her out would be good for her.

  “You look great. Let’s get your jacket and we’ll go.”

  “Where to?” Gemma asked him a few minutes later when they were out on the sidewalk together.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been gone a long time and you’re the food expert. What’s good around here?”

  Gemma shrugged. “Well, there are all those new places a few blocks up. Or...”

  “Yeah?”

  “I mean, there’s Sal’s. It’s not fancy, but they make the best subs in the neighborhood.”

  He grinned at her. “Sounds perfect.”

  Sal’s was another of the old holdout Italian-owned businesses. The original owners, Sal and Lydia Caruso, had long since retired, Gemma explained as they walked over, and now their son, Joe, ran the place for them. It was straight out of a fifties mafia movie, with neon in the plate glass windows advertising Italian Food and Pizza Pies. Inside, the black and white checkered linoleum floor looked like it dated from the restaurant’s origins, as did the red vinyl booths.

  Gemma raised her hand to greet the man behind the cash register, a beefy middle-aged guy in a straining navy blue polo shirt. “Hey, Joe.”

  “Hey, Gemma. Have a seat wherever you want. It’s early still.”

  Brendan helped his mother slide into a booth then took a seat next to Gemma, across from her.

  “How long have you known each other?”

  Gemma glanced at him briefly, then away. “Um, since high school?”

  Under the table, he reached for her hand. “We reconnected when I came back to town. Mom, Gemma’s family owns Romano’s. The bar up the street?”

  “Oh. Yes. Romano’s. I remember that place. Your father would go there sometimes with his friends from the firehouse.” She looked to Gemma. “Did you know Brendan’s father was a firefighter?”

  “Yes, he told me that.”

  “We lost him,” his mother said, her expression going soft and sad. Jesus, it had been nearly twenty years and she was still on the verge of tears every time she spoke about him.

  “Yeah, I know,” Gemma said. “My uncle was a firefighter. We lost him on the job, too.”

  “You’re never the same, you know. You just never get over it.”

  “I know,” Gemma said, casting him a quick glance. But her resentment seemed to have fled, replaced by sympathy.

  “Okay,” he interrupted, before Mom could start crying again. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything,” Gemma said. “But Sal’s Italian sub will change your life. He does a mean chicken parm, too.”

  “Chicken parm sounds great,” Brendan said. “Mom, what about you?”

  Mom spent a minute skimming the menu then looked up at him with lost eyes. “I don’t know; what do you think I should get?”

  “How about the chef’s salad, Mom? You love those.”

  “Oh, yes, that does sound good. That’s what I’ll have. What do you think? Should I have iced tea, too?”

  “Sure, Mom. Iced tea sounds great.”

  Under the table, Gemma squeezed his hand.

  * * *

  After lunch, they walked his mother home, he checked to make sure everything in the house was still safe and secure, and then he walked Gemma back to the bar so she could open up for the day.

  “I didn’t realize,” Gemma said as they walked hand in hand down the sidewalk.

  “Realize what?”

  She shook her head. “When you told me what she was like after your dad died, and all you had to do to keep your family going, I was so mad at her. I thought she was selfish, leaning on you that way. But she really can’t help it, can she? She’s so helpless.”

  “She was never what you’d consider a tough woman. Nothing like you.”

  She smiled and nudged his shoulder with hers.

  “If my dad hadn’t died... I don’t know, maybe she’d be different. But losing him that way destroyed her, and she was never the same afterward. Then Harry... That just did her in.” He paused before he continued, because Gemma needed to understand that his mother would always be his responsibility. She wasn’t suddenly going to get her shit together and go traveling through all the European capitals with her girlfriends. “I don’t think she’ll ever be any different, Gem.”

  “Probably not,” Gemma conceded. “So I guess it’s good she has you.”

  “She always will. She’s always going to be my responsibility.”

  “I get that now. You’re a good son. I’m sorry it had to be you, but I’m glad you’re looking out for her. She’s lucky to have you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Gemma was late. Not like there’d be anyone waiting to get into Romano’s at noon on a weekday, but still, Romano’s was never late opening.

  It had just been too hard to climb out of bed on time this morning after the night she’d had. Mrs. Simonsen’s birthday dinner for the ambassador had been exhausting and stressful. This time, she didn’t have Kendra to run interference for her. It was just her and Mrs. Simonsen’s Upper East Side moneyed friends. Fortunately, despite the higher stakes and the tension, it had gone off well. Everything turned out the way she’d practiced it, and—at least judging from the reports from the servers—everybody loved it. At the end of the night, Mrs. Simonsen had declared herself delighted. She’d taken the job solely because she needed the money, but it was deeply satisfying to know she’d done the job well.

  But while enjoying herself was all well and good, the best part of the night had definitely been that fat check Mrs. Simonsen handed her. Now they could pay off Tony Santini’s electrical upgrades in the apartment without asking for a loan from Uncle Richie. Despite her bone-deep exhaustion and the ache in the back of her neck, Gemma felt downright optimistic as she hurried toward the bar.

  As soon as Tony finished the wiring and the drywall guy finished up, they could list the apartment and get another tenant in there. That income would cover the property taxes and a few other things this year. Romano’s wasn’t raking it in, but if she could keep this up, they’d manage to keep their heads above water for a while.

  And to top it all off, there was this incredible, intoxicating thing with Brendan. They hadn’t yet discussed where this might be headed, but with each day that passed—and each night she spent in his arms—he worked his way further into every image she had of her future, and she liked the way he looked there.

  She rounded the corner onto Court Street, but what she saw a few blocks ahead stopped her in her tracks.

  Fire trucks. In front of Romano’s.

  Oh, no no no no...this could not be happening. Oh, please, no.

  Her heart broke out in a panicked gallop as she sprinted down the sidewalk toward their building. When she was still half a block away, she saw Tony Santini standing out front, his cell phone to his ear.

  She screamed his name as she veered around a dog walker and a few people milling around watching the action. Her voice was ragged with breathlessness.

  Tony turned and held his phone up. “Just left a message for you and your dad,” he called as she darted in front of an oncoming car and reached the far corner. “Calm down, it’s okay.”

  “What happened?” Her chest felt like it might explode with each heartbeat and her throat burned as she panted for breath.

  “Sparks from an old wire. Caught that newspaper insula
tion on fire. Lucky thing I was in there working when it happened or the whole building would have gone up.”

  “Shit.” Shit shit shit. Jess had called this place a firetrap and she was right. “What’s burning? How fast is it moving?”

  “Gemma, it’s okay. I carry a fire extinguisher in my kit. Soon as I saw the smoke, I put it out. It was out before the firefighters even got here.”

  “So it’s okay?” She sagged with relief.

  “Well, not so fast. There’s damage.”

  “How much?”

  Tony shrugged. “Didn’t look too bad from the outside, but who knows how far it went into the walls, and how much of the wiring got fried. The guys are up there now checking it out. They’ll let you know what they find.”

  “Gemma! What’s going on?”

  She turned as her dad sprinted across the street, ducking around a car turning the corner.

  “Fire in the wall. Tony got it out. Now we’re waiting for the fire department to come down and tell us how bad it is.”

  John tipped his head back, looking at the shabby, familiar facade of the Romano’s building. “Ah, hell. This is the last thing we need.”

  She touched her Dad’s arm. “I’m going to call Jess, just so she doesn’t hear about it from somebody else.”

  Dad dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, I’d better call Teresa. Thanks for being here, Tony.”

  Tony shrugged. “Glad I was there to put it out. Let’s just hope the damage isn’t too bad.”

  Gemma was trying to stay optimistic, but secretly she was eaten up with dread. She’d just clawed them back from the brink of financial ruin. There was no way of telling if they’d be able to withstand this latest blow. And if they couldn’t...well, she wouldn’t let herself think about that just yet.

  * * *

  Mrs. Kim from the green grocery came with cups of coffee, clucking at the sight of the flashing lights and the firemen stomping up and down the stairs to the apartment. Joe walked down from Sal’s with a tray of subs for the firefighters. They weren’t supposed to accept, but few would be able to say no to an Italian sub from Sal’s. Amen came, pacing up and down the sidewalk, shaking his head sadly. Maria DiPaola brought over a box of Italian Wedding cookies.

  Gemma sat huddled on an empty plastic crate, arms wrapped across her stomach, watching the firefighters complete their inspection, waiting for the verdict.

  Maria squeezed her shoulder. “Hang in there, hon.”

  “I just don’t know what we’ll do if it’s bad, Maria.”

  Dad was a few feet away, pacing as he spoke into his cell to their insurance company, so he couldn’t hear her voicing her fears.

  Maria wrapped her nubbly cardigan more securely across her stomach. “You’ll do whatever it takes to get through it as a family. That’s what we did.”

  Gemma let out a humorless laugh. “Except you’re closing up shop.”

  The older woman was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes that’s just what you have to do.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without this place,” she whispered, feeling cold to her bones, and not because of the brisk, early spring breeze. “It’s my whole life.”

  Maria crouched at her side, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear in a comforting way. “Doll, your whole life is your family, and you still have them. This? It’s a business and a building. You’re young. You have no idea what life has waiting for you. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “Exciting? No, it’s terrifying. Whoever said the unknown was exciting should be shot. This place is in my blood, and I don’t want anything else.”

  Maria was about to respond when the fire chief came down the stairs and strode over to join her father and Tony Santini. The fire chief was Alan Ferranti, who was distantly related to them on Mom’s side in some way Gemma couldn’t quite remember at the moment. She scrambled to her feet and darted over to stand behind her father.

  “Smoke damage is minimal,” Alan was saying. “But the wiring is all fried. And with that old newspaper insulation...you’re gonna have to tear out the walls and rewire the whole place, John.”

  Dad sighed and shook his head. “What about the bar?”

  “You’re in luck there. No damage in the walls or the ceiling. It’ll take a few days to sign off on the inspection, but you should be able to reopen again by the weekend.”

  Her father nodded grimly. “Thanks, Alan. I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime, John. Sorry, I don’t have better news. These old buildings...”

  “I know. These old buildings.”

  “You gonna stick around a bit? Got a few things for you to sign before we go.”

  “I’ll be in the bar.”

  Dad watched Alan head upstairs before turning to Gemma. “Gem, why don’t you go on home and call your sisters? I’ll finish up here.”

  “You sure?”

  He forced a smile for her. It was decidedly unconvincing. “Sure.”

  Gemma started to go, but paused and reached out for her dad’s hand, squeezing it in both of hers. “We’ll figure this out, Dad. I’ll call Kendra, have her work all her contacts. I’ll get some more catering gigs. We can manage.”

  He hesitated then squeezed back. “I know we will, honey.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Alan had originally thought it would be at least Friday until they got the all-clear to reopen, so Gemma was pleasantly surprised when the call came on their home phone that the paperwork had processed quickly and they were okay to reopen Thursday.

  But now she was behind schedule. There hadn’t been any smoke damage in the bar itself, but the place smelled decidedly toasted. She’d intended to scrub down the tile floor with lemon cleaner to banish the smell, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. If she got a jump on it, she could scrub down everything and prop open the doors for a few hours today. By tomorrow, they’d be good to go.

  She was surprised when she rounded the corner onto Court Street and saw the metal security gate had been rolled up on one side. Dad had spent the night at Teresa’s last night, but he must have come over to clean up, too. Well, with two of them, they’d get the place whipped back into shape in no time.

  “Did Alan call you, too, Dad?” she said as she swung through the front door, but she stopped short when she realized Dad wasn’t alone.

  Brendan was there. Which would be a nice surprise, except for that expression on his face when he looked over his shoulder and spotted her. Then there was the look on her father’s face. And the fact that the two of them were there alone, bent over the bar, conferring intently over a stack of papers. Her blood went cold.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  “Just talking to your dad about some stuff.” Brendan slid off his bar stool and stood. “John—”

  “We’ll talk,” Dad said quietly.

  Gemma’s heart started to flutter in her chest.

  Brendan crossed to the front door, pausing beside her long enough to touch her hand and kiss her cheek. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and then he was gone.

  Gemma couldn’t make herself move away from the front door. Her feet felt like cement, rooting her where she stood. “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “Come have a seat, Gem. We need to talk.”

  Her throat felt tight and it was hard to draw a full breath. A tinny little ringing started in her ears.

  “About what?”

  He said nothing at first, just watching her with those sorrowful dark brown eyes of his, and the poker face that made it impossible to read him. Forcing her feet to move, she crossed the room. “About what, Dad?” she repeated, her voice going slightly shrill at the end.

  Dad pressed his eyes closed very briefly, and when he opened them again, she knew. She just knew, before he even said a word. “I’ve made
a deal to sell the building to Brendan.”

  “Dad, no!”

  “Honey.” He pushed off his elbows, bracing his hands on the bar the way he’d done a million times before in her life. Seeing Dad behind the bar that way had always made her feel safe and secure, like he was her fixed point in the universe, the one thing she knew would never disappear, never change. Now she felt like the world had tilted sideways and she was scrambling to hang on before she fell over the edge. “We both know what we’re facing. There’s too much to do and the bar just doesn’t pay for itself anymore.”

  “So you’re giving up? Just like that?” She’d never, ever in her life been angry at her father, but now it felt like her rage was choking her. She had plenty of fight left, but she couldn’t do it on her own. He had to fight, too, and here he was, throwing in the towel right when she needed him most.

  “No, not just like that,” he said sharply. “I’ve given my whole life to this place.”

  “So how can you just walk away from it now?”

  “Because I’m not about to let you give up your life for it, too.”

  “That’s my choice, Dad. Mine. It’s my legacy, and you’re selling it out from underneath me!”

  “Listen to me.” Dad leaned forward. “This bar is my legacy, too, but a legacy doesn’t mean shit if it steals every other dream from you.”

  She blinked as his words sunk in. “Oh, I get it. You and Teresa want out. You’re tired of the hours and the struggle and you want to start over and leave all this shit behind, is that it?”

  “This has nothing to do with Teresa or what I want. It has to do with what you want.”

  “I already told you I want this!” In the empty bar, her voice echoed off the tile floor and mirrored wall.

  Dad crossed his arms over his chest and examined her in that all-seeing way he’d been using all her life. He might be unreadable, but he could always tell what his girls were thinking. “Are you really going to stand there and tell me there’s nothing else you want out of your life, Gem?”