When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(25)

“Hello again, Mrs. D’Angelo,” Brooke said.

Mari walked forward, smile stretching all over her face, and reached out with both hands. “You’re going to love it here.”

“Thank you.”

Mari looked down. “Is this all you have?”

“I have a few more boxes in the car. It will take a few trips to get all my things here. Like I said, it isn’t much.”

Mari turned to her sons. “You heard her. Only a few boxes.”

“I can—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Luca chuckled as he walked by. “Told you,” he said under his breath.

Gio handed the wine to Chloe as they left the room to grab the rest of her things.

“You’re going to live here now?” Franny asked.

“I am.”

The girl pursed her lips to the side as if measuring Brooke up.

“More girls in the house is a good thing,” Chloe assured her niece.

“It is?”

“It is!” Mari said.

Good with that, Franny sat on the couch as Brooke was sure the child was used to doing.

“I will open the wine. Chloe, tell Tony to prepare the special so Brooke doesn’t have to run out on her first night here. We’ll toast our new friend, get her settled, and then leave her alone.”

“You don’t have to—”

“This is what we do, Brooke. I only know how to welcome you one way.”

Chloe moved to the door. “Arguing is futile. She always wins.”

“And more wine,” Mari yelled as her daughter left the room.

Mari moved into the kitchen, more familiar with it than Brooke, and found a wine opener. “Where are the rest of your things?”

“Two hours north of here. I’ll be back and forth a lot in the next few weeks.”

The cork came free, and Mari opened a cupboard door where the table settings lived. She removed six wineglasses, a fair amount considering the small space they came from. “I had everything cleaned up here. Even the sheets on the bed. If there is something you expected to see and don’t, let me know. I asked my family to remove their personal items.”

The only difference Brooke saw was a few less family pictures on the walls. Then again, she’d barely arrived and the place was overrun with D’Angelos.

Luca and Gio walked in, paused. “Where to?”

“Bedroom, please.”

They walked out and Gio left for the final trip.

Brooke looked over at Luca, wondering how they decided on who would grab the last box in the car. “Did he pick the short straw?”

Sure enough, Luca grinned. “Rock, paper, scissors.”

Chloe returned, her hands full.

Brooke moved in to help. “This looks like more than wine.”

“Tony will send a runner in fifteen minutes with your dinner.”

There was a loaf of bread that Luca grabbed. A bottle of olive oil and another filled with balsamic vinegar. There was a brick of hard cheese and a jar of olives . . . and yes, another bottle of wine.

“This is crazy.”

“Get used to it,” Chloe said.

By the time Gio walked back in with the final box, the wine was poured, the bread was cut, and olive oil and vinegar were swirling in a small dipping bowl.

Mari handed Brooke a glass and took one for herself.

The others followed suit.

Franny was handed a glass of water.

“Welcome to our home. We hope you’re as happy here as we are. Alla salute.”

“Thank you,” Brooke said before sipping the wine.

“Now, let me formally introduce you to my family. Francesca, our princess who runs into the pretty ladies in the restaurant and eats too much gelato from next door.”

“It’s good gelato,” Gio assured Brooke.

“Chloe, my youngest, who would be a vegetarian if not for her family heritage and keeps her figure by bending in positions that would put most people in the hospital.”

Chloe lifted two fingers. “I teach twice a week. Self-proclaimed yogi.”

Brooke grinned. “I could use a little namaste in my life.”

“I can teach you.”

“I’d like that.”

Gio moaned. “Oh my God . . . two of them.”

Chloe bumped her brother’s side and shut him up.

“Giovanni,” Mari continued. “My youngest son, and wine steward.”

“Sommelier,” he corrected.

“One day he will own his own winery and bless me with a dozen more grandchildren. If only he can find a wife.”

Brooke laughed. “A dozen?”

“Someone has to work the fields.”

“A dozen kids would scare off most women. You might want to keep that information close to the chest,” she warned him.

“I keep telling him that,” Chloe said.

“And then we have my oldest, Gianluca.”

“Luca,” he corrected her.

“Yes, yes . . . everyone here tries to shorten it to Gian. We don’t like that, so Luca it is. Still, his given name is Gianluca after his father’s grandfather. My Luca is a brilliant chef, a loving father, and a great provider for this family.”

“A provider of rules we love to break,” Gio chimed in.