Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(51)

“Sounds healthy to me.”

“Frannie gave me the name of a therapist Mack’s girls went to after their mom left. The office was closed by the time I called this afternoon, but I left a message, so hopefully she gets back to me fast.” She dragged her boots through the snow. “But still, I know I need to address the Instagram thing. Maybe I can do it later tonight.”

We went in the back door to the house, and as soon as we stepped into the mudroom off the kitchen, my mouth watered. “Wow, something smells good,” I said, shrugging off my jacket.

“Thanks. Hope you like Italian.”

“It’s my favorite.”

“Is it?” She took my coat and hung it on a hook before sitting on a bench to pull off her boots. “Good to know.”

“My parents were both Italian.” I took my boots off too, so I wouldn’t get the floor wet or dirty, and gave a quick prayer of thanks I was wearing new socks without any holes. “Neither was a hundred percent, but I’m more than half. I grew up eating a lot of Italian food.”

“Aha—so it’s in your blood.” She straightened my boots into a row along with everyone else’s. It was oddly touching somehow. “Sorry, it’s a mom thing. My kids just throw their stuff everywhere, and it drives me nuts. I’m surprised you didn’t learn to cook, having two Italian parents,” she said as we walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah, my mom tried to teach us. Didn’t work.” My eyes nearly bugged out at the sight of all the food on the island. “Is that lasagna?”

“Yes. One is vegetarian and one has meat. And there’s antipasto and Caesar salad and garlic bread, and it looks like my parents opened a bottle of red wine. Can I get you a glass?”

I stared at her. “Did you make all this today?”

She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t want my mom to have to cook after working such a long day, so I snuck over here this afternoon to put things together. Plus, I enjoy it. I really haven’t gotten to cook for a large group in a while. I’d forgotten how much I like doing it. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” I picked up an empty plate from the island and began to fill it. “And yes, a glass of wine sounds great.”

“It’s been nice to be home, but I’m actually getting a little antsy to have my own space. My own kitchen.” She took two glasses down and filled them from the bottle of nebbiolo on the island. “I’m going to look at a few places next week.”

“Oh yeah? Where are they?”

As she described the houses she was interested in, we finished filling our plates and took them into the dining room, where her kids and parents were already eating, along with April. I greeted everyone and took the seat Sylvia indicated for me, which was next to her and across from Whitney. While we ate, her parents and sister weighed in on which homes and locations they thought might be best for her, and the kids pleaded for the one with the most land so they could have animals.

“My dad never let us have pets,” Keaton told me.

“Do you have a dog?” Whitney asked.

“I don’t,” I told her. “My, uh, wife was allergic.”

“You have a wife?” She looked surprised.

“I did. But we’re not together anymore. I mean, we’re divorced.”

“Oh.” Whitney’s eyes moved back and forth between Sylvia and me, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Then you should totally get a dog now,” Keaton said.

“Do you have kids?” Whitney asked.

I shook my head. “Just nieces and nephews, but they all live in other states.”

“Do you see them a lot?” Keaton asked.

“Not as much as I’d like,” I admitted, tugging my collar away from my neck. I was suddenly warm beneath my clothing. Whitney was staring at me pretty hard.

Not that I blamed her. She was old enough to wonder who the hell this guy was that her mother kept bringing home to dinner. I had to remind myself that we weren’t really doing anything wrong . . . were we?

“All ready for tomorrow night, April?” Sylvia asked.

“Almost.” April took a sip of wine. “As long as the head chef doesn’t throw a tantrum and none of my servers call in sick, I think we’re good. The kids were a huge help today.”

“Good.” Sylvia beamed at her children. “They’re ready and willing to work tomorrow too. Oh, Mom, will you be okay at reception without me tomorrow? Chloe needs my help again in the tasting room.”

“Sure, sweetheart. That’s fine.”

“Henry has been teaching me about the winemaking process here,” Sylvia went on as she lifted her glass. “It’s so fascinating.”

“Is that what you do?” Whitney asked. “Make the wine here?”

“Yes,” I told her.

“Do you live close?”

“I live in Hadley Harbor. Not too far.”

“Did you go to high school with my mom?” Her questions were coming faster now. My leg had a nervous twitch beneath the table.

“No, I grew up on a farm in Iowa.”

“Henry originally went away to school to be a doctor,” said Sylvia. “He likes science just like you do, Keaton.”