Читать книгу A Daughter's Homecoming - Ginny Aiken - Страница 11

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—”

“No one was careless. If you’d let me explain—”

“It better be a good explanation.” This couldn’t be happening. To think she’d trusted his shelter—him—with a live creature. And then he’d lost it. “You assured me you’d find him a good home. Losing him doesn’t fit that description.”

Again, he hesitated. “After we bathed him, we realized he has a lot of terrier in him. They’re great diggers, especially the smaller terrier breeds like the Westies, the Cairns and the Jack Russells. Because of that terrier instinct, your buddy decided to dig his way out by going under the fence around his run. He’s so small it couldn’t have taken much time or effort to make a big enough hole.”

“But you just said you realized he was a digging breed. Why didn’t you put him in some kind of cage?”

“All our guests have a run. They need exercise, a place to—er, well, go that’s separate from their den—their sleeping quarters. And besides, we’re required to provide it. Besides, I did check the fence. It was secure to the ground. He dug—deep.”

Gabi remembered the dog trembling, and anxiety swamped her. “Have you looked for him?”

“Of course. You saw the lights here at the building. I’ve been searching for the past hour, everywhere on our property and the neighborhood around us. Haven’t seen even a sign of him. Still, I suppose it’s better that you know what’s happened.”

She shouldn’t be this upset. Once she’d relinquished the dog into the shelter’s custody she had no further claim on him, not even on the kind or quality of care he received. The shelter and, by extension, its director, were now responsible for the animal’s welfare, not her. But in Zach’s voice she identified an echo of her concern, and that comforted her despite the crummy incident. She came to a quick decision, following her heart.

“Look, I’m getting Papa’s big flood-sized flashlight and coming to help you look.” She rummaged under the sink. “Aha! Here it is. Two sets of eyes are better than one, you know, especially where this little sneak is concerned.”

She held her breath, hoping he’d agree—and not just for the dog’s sake. She didn’t want to admit it, but deep inside she was curious about Zach, more now that she’d heard the worry resonate in his words. She wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

Even though she shouldn’t care one way or the other.

She wondered what he thought of her. First, she’d shown up dirty and stinky, bearing an equally dirty and stinky stray. Then, like some overprotective mommy, she’d called to check up on the dog she’d relinquished. To him.

Did he think she had questions about his competence? Did he think she doubted his ability to care for the dog?

More important, did she doubt him?

“Are you sure? I mean, it makes sense, two of us looking,” he said. “But it is late, and you must be tired.”

Was that a hint of relief in his voice? Even if she had inserted her feelings into her interpretation, she made up her mind. She headed for the living room, Mama’s old kitchen cordless phone between her shoulder and ear, flashlight in hand. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll meet you at the shelter, and then we can decide what to do next.”

Without giving Zach an opportunity to object, she said goodbye, dropped the phone on the small console table by the front door and let herself out. The brisk night breeze off the Sound felt good against her face, its balmy touch a pleasant reminder to treasure it, since the capricious Pacific Northwest rains could change things in a flash. The salty tang of the sea tickled her nostrils, and she savored the familiar sense of coming home. The faint echo of the night’s last Edmonds Ferry horn’s blast traveled miles toward her in the quiet hush. Lyndon Point was a gorgeous place, with unique scenes and sounds that tempted the senses to a smorgasbord of experiences.

Ten minutes later, she rapped her knuckles against the locked door of the shelter. Footsteps approached.

“Ready?” she asked when Zach opened up.

As attractive as the shelter director had looked in his scrubs earlier that day, he was even more so in a royal-blue polo shirt and jeans. His hair was rumpled, as though he’d run his fingers through it more than once, and his eyes gleamed with a touch of blue, probably reflected from his shirt. She paused a moment and took in his masculine good looks.

“Let me lock up.” He pocketed the key, then turned to Gabi. “Like I told you, I’ve already searched the yards in the surrounding neighborhood, and I also checked with 911 dispatch. No dogs turned in, and no accidents involving dogs reported tonight, no dogs seen on the loose for them to notify Animal Control.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad. What do you suggest?”

“Terriers are strong-willed, determined canines. It occurred to me he might have decided to make his way back to where you first saw him, to the alley. I would have gone on my own—was about to leave, but...”

In the light of the streetlamp at the corner, Gabi saw his cheekbones redden. A sheepish expression spread over his attractive features.

As he drew out his silence, she prodded. “But...?”

“When I heard you on the phone, I wondered if he might not respond better to you than to me. He could have hidden in any of the yards I checked, but he might not trust me enough to let me see him, much less catch him. It was easy to see how much he liked you.”

She smiled, remembering how she’d felt when the little rough tongue had lapped at her hand. “Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

They set off at a quick pace, giving the vicinity of the shelter another quick search, and arrived at Tony’s a short while later. Dim light from the streetlamp three buildings away mottled the alley. Angular shadows, deep and dark, turned the usually innocuous space into something reminiscent of horror movies. Gabi shuddered, her imagination conjuring scenes from silly films she’d watched as a teen, and which she now wished she hadn’t.

Mama had been right. They’d led to nightmares, even waking ones.

Oh, good grief. How crazy could she get? Scared of shadows in the alley.

As she shook herself to shed the strange mood, she heard rustling near the far end of the alley, daunting in the night.

She glanced at Zach, who bobbed his chin toward the darker depths. She stepped up to the Dumpster, then dropped down to her knee. “Hey, um—” She looked over her shoulder at her companion. “What do I call him? Did you guys name him?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t have a chance. We do give our guests temporary names to make things easier for us while they’re at our facility. I can’t stand to call an animal by something so stark and cold as a number. But you only brought him in a few hours ago.”

“Okay, then.” She scooted closer to the metal trash container, the source of the bad smells that filled the alley, wrinkling her nose as she drew near. “Hey, little guy. I’m back. Did you come to look for me?”

Nothing.

She remembered how he’d listened to her chatter earlier that day. She kept up a running conversation, hoping he would respond that way again. “Did you come for the trash? Are you hungry again?”

Behind her, Zach snorted, more than likely a smothered laugh.

She chuckled, too. “You did have a feast at the shelter, buddy, so I don’t think you came back for the food. Is this where someone dumped you? Do you have a hidey-hole somewhere out here in the dark?”

Gabi continued to croon, inching closer to the Dumpster, dreading what she might find instead of a dog. Fat rats a-mocking pranced through her thoughts.

Then, in the quiet of the night, she heard the faintest of whimpers. It came from the rear corner of the steel container. “Please wait,” she told Zach. “Let me go first. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

“Sounds good to me.”

With a prayer on her lips, Gabi set the flashlight on the ground, then crept slowly on hands and knees, quiet and careful. Inches from the corner, she saw the gleam of the dog’s bright eyes.

“There you are.” To her surprise, he didn’t back away, but neither did he come toward her. He did whine softly.

She continued her approach. “You can’t stay out here, you know. It’s really not safe.”

Gabi didn’t want to think about the threats the pup might face in an empty alley. The image of a large tomcat crossed her mind. One of those could do the small escape artist a lot of harm. Some toms got up to as much as twenty-five pounds. She’d be surprised if this terrier mix weighed thirteen.

She held her hand about an inch away from his nose. “Come on, pal. Let’s get going and get you somewhere safe.”

That’s when she got a good look at the dog’s situation. It appeared he’d gotten wedged between the Dumpster and the building’s back wall, a solid cement expanse. No wonder he’d whimpered. As much as he loved his freedom, this kind of captivity had to terrify him.

“I need your help,” she told Zach. “I’m not sure how we’re going to get him out of where he is. Please hand me the flashlight.”

Although she knew the bright light would blind the dog, it couldn’t be helped. She needed to illuminate the area. Maybe after they had a better view of the whole picture they could come up with a solution.

Zach handed her the light but didn’t back away. For a moment, Gabi froze. His presence at her back was undeniable. His warmth enveloped her, and his breath wafted past her cheek. He was close, very close. She’d never been so aware of another person before.

The dog whimpered again.

“Hang on, buddy.” Gabi swallowed hard as she redirected her attention to the matter at hand. She aimed the flashlight toward the dog. “This might be uncomfortable for a minute, but I can’t help it. Let’s see what we can do for you.”

With the help of the light, Gabi and Zach soon realized the container leaned at a slender angle away from the wall, wider toward the top than down where the dog was stuck. Gabi handed Zach the light while she eased the little guy to freedom.

“There!” She sat back on her heels and nuzzled the dog. “You poor thing.” The pleasant scent of cleanliness met her nose. “Oh! You washed him.”

At her side, Zach chuckled. “He needed it. He was a mess.”

“And then he got himself into a different kind of mess out here.” She flashed him a smile. “Thanks.”

He shrugged and smiled back. “I thought your help would improve our chances of catching him, so thank you.” He tipped his head to the side. “Are you sure you really want to surrender him?”

“He has to go back to the shelter with you.” She blinked hard against the sudden tears stinging her eyes.

With nothing more to say, they sat in awkward silence, the stray who’d brought them together on Gabi’s lap. Seconds ticked by.

Her awareness grew.

Again.

She met Zach’s gaze. Couldn’t look away.

What was this...this crackle between them all about? Why him? And why now? Here in Lyndon Point?