Читать книгу Marriage by Contract - Sandra Steffen, Sandra Steffen - Страница 7

Her fiancé?

Was that what Jenna had said? That her fiancé had just walked through the door?

Beth stared at a shelf containing books of old Romany curses, wishing with all her might that she could make herself vanish into thin air. But there was no way out. She was in a corner, literally and figuratively. Sooner or later, she was going to have to turn around to see if Tony was really standing in this very store.

“Bethany?”

Her mind went blank for a moment, then scrambled like a radio picking up more than one signal. There was no doubt about it. That voice belonged to none other than Tony Petrocelli himself. She took a deep breath for courage, then turned around to face the music and the last man on earth she was prepared to see.

She glanced at Jenna, who was suddenly all eyes and ears, then slowly raised her gaze to Tony’s. Although she couldn’t quite manage a smile, she nodded in greeting and said, “Dr. Anthony Petrocelli, this is Jenna Maria Brigante, my best friend.”

Tony heard the regal formality in Beth’s voice, and wondered where she’d acquired her manners and her style. He didn’t doubt that she was strong; nurses had to be—in spirit and in body. But even the grouchiest nurses at Vanderbilt Memorial could flirt with the best of them. He enjoyed playing along, but he’d never had any trouble dismissing the overtures as fun, and nothing more. Beth Kent had intriguing looks and a willowy body that rivaled any nurse’s in the building. Yet he’d never seen her so much as wink at one of the doctors. She obviously didn’t believe in small talk or casual flirtations. Oh, no. She’d cut straight to the quick when she’d asked him to marry her, in so many words. And he simply hadn’t been able to dismiss that.

Tony cast a sideways glance at the dark-haired woman who was watching him openly. Jenna Maria Brigante, he thought to himself. Oh, boy. A woman with three names always spelled trouble. “Brigante,” he repeated. “Is that Italian?”

Her eyes danced with a peculiar light, her hair swishing as she shook her head. “Romanian Gypsy.”

He cocked his head slightly. “That would explain how you knew that I was a doctor.”

The woman stared at him, then burst out laughing. “Bethany,” she exclaimed, “I do believe your taste is improving.”

Jenna Maria Brigante obviously didn’t let a man’s size intimidate her. She raised her chin and stared him down, pointing one red-tipped finger directly at him. “Since you and Beth undoubtedly have a lot to talk about, I’m going to let her lock up here and I’ll leave you two alone. But I’m warning you. If you hurt her, you won’t like the repercussions.”

He looked her straight in the eye. With a significant lift of his brows, he said, “Believe me, any curse you put on me would be pale compared to what my Grandma Rosa would do to me.”

Obviously satisfied with his statement and with what she saw in his eyes, Jenna turned to leave. At the door, she said, “Call me later, Beth. I want details. Lots and lots of details.”

The moment she opened the door, the room came alive with the faint purl of a dozen different wind chimes. She cast one more long look over her shoulder without saying a word. With a rustle of skirts and the rattle of the door, she was gone, and he and Bethany were alone.

Glancing from Beth to the airy scarves draped over a pole covered with climbing ivy, he said, “Interesting place. Is your friend really a Gypsy?”

That won him her first smile of the evening, which in turn sent a shock of attraction chugging through his bloodstream all over again. This was crazy. The fact that he was here was crazy. He didn’t believe in Romany curses, and he couldn’t believe an honest-to-goodness nurse did, either. So it wasn’t a hex or a magical spell that drew him closer. It was intrigue, and quite possibly the strongest flare of desire he’d experienced in his entire life.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

Tony raked his fingers through his hair. “Let’s just say that Jenna Maria Brigante was less formidable than the super in your building.”

“So you’ve met Mr. Willoughby.”

“Oh, I’ve met him, all right. But I have to tell you that it was easier to convince a first-time mother that she could deliver a nine-pound baby than it was to convince Mr. Willoughby that I’m not Jack the Ripper.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, for what, he didn’t know. He’d seen her in her nursing uniform at the hospital, and he’d imagined her wearing nothing at all in his fantasies, but this was the first time he’d seen her exactly like this. She was wearing jeans and a black tank top, her dark auburn hair waving past her shoulders. He didn’t know how she did it, how she managed to pull off looking sexy and regal at the same time. It was one helluva potent combination.

“What was it?” she asked.

Tony wasn’t surprised that he had no idea what she was talking about, not when most of the blood in his brain seemed to be making its way to a place straight south of there. “What was what?” he asked.

“The nine-pound baby you mentioned.”

“Oh. It was a girl. If she’s half as ambitious as her parents, she’ll either be a linebacker for the Broncos or the president of the United States.”

His attempt at humor didn’t have the effect he’d hoped for. Although Beth’s lips lifted into a smile, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why did you come here tonight, Doctor?”

There was a question. And the truth was, he wanted to give her an honest answer. He just wasn’t exactly sure what the answer would be. Taking his time meeting her eyes, he finally said, “I’ve received my share of propositions, but I have to say it’s been a long time since a woman has come right out and proposed marriage.”

Beth was vaguely aware of screechy brakes and smooth-running engines on the street outside, but most of her attention was turned inward at the sensation flickering to life in her chest. It could only be one thing—hope; tiny maybe, and precarious for sure, but it was hope just the same. Not trusting herself to move, she said, “Does this mean you might consider it?”

He stared back at her for a long time. She wished she had Jenna’s uncanny knack for reading people’s expressions, because for the life of her, she didn’t know what was going on behind Tony’s dark brown eyes. The way he raked his fingers through his hair could have been fatigue, it could have been unease or it could have been indecision. There wasn’t much Bethany wouldn’t have done for an inkling as to what she was dealing with. Unfortunately, all she could do was wait.

A dozen images and sensations crowded through Tony’s mind. The memory of the pouty expression on his patient’s face earlier today when he’d backed from the room, stupefied that the woman thought she could seduce him in his own office. The sound of Noah’s voice when he’d mentioned the promotion and the hospital board’s position on marriage. The disastrous blind date his younger sister had felt obliged to send him on last week, and his parents’ desire that he pass on the family name. As strange as it sounded, the heat that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in the very center of him was stronger than all those other things combined.

But marriage?

The thought brought him up short, another idea close on its heels. Beth Kent was pretty and hard-working, and had a kind of class and sophistication that couldn’t be learned. A woman like that could have her pick of men. All she would have to do was say the word and men would line up for her attention.

It suddenly occurred to him that she didn’t seem to want suitors. She wanted a husband. The question was why.

He strolled forward, looking at her intently. “I don’t honestly know what I’m considering, but I know I’d like to understand. Maybe you could start at the beginning.”

For a moment, Beth studied him, measuring, appraising the situation. She supposed he had a right to want to understand. The question was, what should she say? How much should she include? And exactly where was the beginning?

One thing she’d acquired the summer she and her family had spent in England was an appreciation for the tradition of sipping tea. And because brewing tea gave a person something to do with her hands, Beth decided this was the perfect time to prepare a pot.

Without preamble, she strode to the doorway in the back of the room. Lifting the beads aside, she glanced over her shoulder. “Won’t you come this way?”

Tony followed her to a tiny kitchenette. Since he doubted his legs would fit underneath the ornate, glass-topped table in one corner, he leaned against the counter, ankles crossed, one hand in his pocket, watching as Beth filled a kettle with water and removed two tea bags from an airtight jar.

“First of all,” she began tentatively, “I want you to know that I don’t make a habit of asking men to marry me. Now I know why.”

Tony settled back, strangely intrigued by her subtle wit and the way her lower lip was slightly fuller than the top.

“Anyway,” she continued, turning on the gas beneath the kettle, “I wouldn’t have asked you today, but I’m desperate.”

She had the grace to look apologetic at her choice of words. Tony only smiled.

“You see, I overheard Dr. Howell mention that the board of directors would prefer to give the promotion of head of obstetrics to a married man. Now, I’m not pretending that it’s fair, but since I was raised in a family that could have written the book on putting on airs, I understand all about maintaining the proper appearances. I had recently come from a meeting, myself, when I overheard your conversation with Dr. Howell, and I’d hoped that perhaps you and I could both gain something from a marriage of convenience, so to speak.”

Tony found himself standing up a little straighter, his gaze sharpening with every passing second. “What would you gain, Beth?”

She turned slowly and looked up at him. “A baby. A son.”

If Tony lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the open look of longing in her eyes and her voice during that moment in time. “What do you mean?” he said, more slowly and gently than before.

“Do you remember Christopher Moore? The baby you delivered the night of the blackout? Something happened to me that night. I can’t explain it, but I took one look at him and I was lost. Maybe there was magic in the air, or maybe it was all just destiny. I don’t know. But I was sure you felt it, just as I was sure Annie Moore felt it, too. She was so brave for a girl so young. Do you remember? She asked me to take care of Christopher for her. At the time, I thought she meant for the moment, but now I wonder if she wanted me to adopt him even then. It’s what I want more than anything else in this world. But the social worker said that in order for that to happen, I must be able to provide him with a two-parent home.”

By now, Tony had straightened to his full height, his feet spread slightly, his stance ready. For what, he wasn’t sure. She continued, everything she said sounding very matter-of-fact, very tidy. It all made perfect sense, and he had to admit, he’d benefit from the arrangement, too.

What was he thinking?

The tea was brewed by the time she’d reached the end of her “sales pitch.” Tony could have used a shot of whiskey. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but God help him, he was actually considering her proposition.

She’d mentioned that something had been in the air that night when Christopher had been born. While he didn’t doubt that a bond had formed between Beth, Annie Moore and the tiny baby he’d helped bring into this world, he remembered another kind of link, this one between him and Beth. It had been a purely sexual experience, although they hadn’t even touched. He’d been feeling strangely on edge ever since. As a doctor and a man, he knew of only one way to relieve his pent-up need.

Tony happened to believe that free sex was worth about as much as dandelion wine. It went down with about as much grace, and left the same bad feeling in the pit of a man’s stomach. Blah. Give him a bottle of hard whiskey and an honest chase, and he’d give back ten times as much as he asked for. Although he’d never actually admitted it out loud, one-night stands were boring. A man could get that much gratification by himself. That, however, wasn’t the kind of gratification he wanted or needed.

“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

Tony didn’t know what to think. Inching closer, he said, “Before I can answer that, there’s something else I have to know.”

She turned those violet eyes of hers to his, and damn, he couldn’t have formed a coherent thought if his life depended upon it. Letting his instincts guide him, he did the only thing he could do. In one fast move, he covered her mouth with his.

Her surprise whooshed out of her, but she didn’t pull away. His instinctive response to her was powerful, but nothing could compare to the sensations surging through him at the joining of their mouths. He deepened the kiss, fitting her closer to his body, moving his mouth over hers, his hands spreading wide across her back, inching up and down, kneading. Needing.

She opened her mouth beneath his, sending desire pounding through him even faster. He slanted his lips over hers, clinging, devouring her softness. The kiss went on for a long time, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted, needed, more.

Beth couldn’t think, and she certainly couldn’t step away. Tony had moved fast, but she still should have seen this coming. His hands warmed her through her tank top, his kiss heating her from the inside out. It had been a long time since she’d felt warm in exactly this way. She hated to admit how much she’d missed it.

The kiss finally broke on a need for oxygen, if nothing else. Beth took a shuddering breath and tried to get her thoughts under control. No wonder the rumors circulating through the hospital about Tony’s sexual prowess had always run rampant. According to one of the nurses who worked with him, ninety-nine percent of his patients fell a little in love with him in the delivery room. Dr. Petrocelli obviously had a very good bedside manner. Now she was beginning to believe the stories about his in-bed manner, as well. Thankful that he couldn’t read her mind, she turned her back on him and tried to keep a blush from climbing to her cheeks.

“We’ll tell our families tomorrow.”

Her head came up and around with a start. “What?”

“Our families. They’re going to have to be told.”

“You mean you’ll marry me?”

Tony had a feeling he would always refer to this as the day he lost his senses, but, with desire still thick inside him, it didn’t feel that way right now. Fighting an uncharacteristic urge to toss his head back and laugh, he decided to forget about potential problems and concentrate on this instinctive need he had to make Bethany Kent his.

Looking at her with smug delight, he said, “I can hardly believe it, but yes, that is what I mean.”

“When?” she asked.

“As soon as possible.”

The huskiness in his voice threw her for a moment. Recovering, she said, “Yes, I think it would be best if we were married before Christopher is released from the hospital.”

“For that reason, too.”

His dark eyes held a sheen of purpose she simply couldn’t ignore. Wishing she knew where to put her hands, she said, “All right, then. I guess that’s that.”

Tony made a sound only men could manage. “You won’t know the meaning of the term that’s that until after you’ve met my family tomorrow.”

Beth hadn’t considered meeting his family. Actually, other than Christopher, there were a lot of things she hadn’t considered. “Are they going to be terribly upset?” she asked.

The shake of his head was too slow and too sure to be anything but genuine. “Are you kidding? They’ve been trying to marry me off for years. Believe me, they’re going to be thrilled with you and with Christopher. What about your family? How will they take the news?”

Beth considered her family’s reactions one by one. Her mother’s eyes would widen, and her father would get a little stuffy, and her sister and brother-in-law would share a long, meaningful look, but none of them would actually say anything outright. They had far too much social breeding for any real show of emotion.

“Actually,” she said, “I think I’ll wait until after the fact to tell my family.”

Tony shook his head. “My grandmother would never forgive me if I didn’t let all of them in on the news. I’ll call them first and give them a little time to get used to the idea of not only a wedding but another grandchild, too. They’re going to want to meet you, of course. And they’ll insist upon feeding you. They always close the grocery store at five-thirty on Saturdays. I’ll pick you up at six.”

Beth felt as if she were caught up in a whirlwind. Placing a hand to her temple to try to still the dizziness, she said, “It seems as if we should shake on it or something.”

One second later his mouth was on hers all over again. She didn’t gasp, but she very nearly swooned.

Raising his head, he said, “There, that was better than any handshake. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Beth.”

The next thing she knew, he strode through the beads in the doorway on his way to the front door. Pulling her gaze from his retreating form wasn’t easy. Tony Petrocelli had a smooth gait and a strong masculine physique that was impossible to ignore. She half expected him to glance over his shoulder as if he knew it. The fact that he didn’t made her heart feel strangely tender.

Just who was Tony Petrocelli? He was no whipping boy, and he certainly wasn’t a shrinking violet. People at the hospital said he was a complex man, one who wasn’t easy to know intimately. Beth was beginning to realize that there was a lot more to him than rumors and tall tales.

She stood in the doorway, staring through the colorful beads for a long time after he left, feeling as if she were viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. Oh, what a difference a day could make. In the span of twelve hours she’d experienced nearly every emotion there was. Sadness, despair, embarrassment, desire and relief. Her head was spinning as a result.

Jenna would have said, “All’s well that ends well.”

Bethany supposed it was true enough. After all, according to Mrs. Donahue, she would be able to begin adoption proceedings as soon as she was married. She already loved Christopher as her own. Now she would be able to raise him as her own, as well. She smiled at the thought, her arms aching to hold the child that would soon be hers.

Soon. That was when Tony said he wanted to get married.

Good heavens, she was getting married, when she’d promised herself she’d never get married again. Touching the tips of her fingers to her lips, she only hoped she knew what she was doing.

* * *

Beth slid from the seat and rounded the front of Tony’s Lexus. Her feet stopped at the foot of the porch steps, her eyes trained on the welcome sign fastened above the front door.

“Ready?” Tony asked, reaching for her hand.

No. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t ready. Oh, the house looked inviting enough. It was located in what her mother referred to as the working-class district. These houses were old but well kept. They were far less ornate than the huge Victorian mansions that had been built by businessmen and prospectors who’d struck it rich in the silver mines a hundred years ago, and far less pretentious than the new structures built by present-day businessmen and the social elite. The houses in this neighborhood had painted porches and bare spots in the lawns where children played and dogs snoozed in the shade. The exterior didn’t concern Beth in the least. It was the people waiting for her inside that had her nerves standing on edge.

During the ride from her apartment, Tony had hit most of the high spots concerning his family. She now knew that his Grandpa Mario had died ten years ago, and that the Petrocellis were the kind of people who still referred to wall-to-wall carpeting as a rug, and who ate dinner at noon, and supper as soon as they closed the Italian grocery store that had been in the family for more than forty years. Other than a love for gossip, they sounded like kind, good-hearted men and women. So why were her feet frozen to the sidewalk?

“Come on,” Tony said softly. “You’re going to be fine.”

She took a deep breath and went up to the first step. Mentally preparing herself for what was to come, she stared straight ahead. “All right. Let’s go in. I only hope I don’t drop my spaghetti in my lap.”

Tony was still laughing when he opened the front door and ushered her inside. Every person in the room turned to look at them, more than a dozen pairs of brown eyes narrowing with a critical squint. Accepting the squeeze Tony gave her hand for moral support, Beth did her best to hold her head high and refrain from fidgeting. But honestly, a germ under a microscope had never received a more intense scrutiny.

“Everyone,” Tony began, “I’d like you to meet Bethany Kent. My future bride.”

Only one person in the entire room moved. A small woman with white hair leaned heavily on her cane as she ambled closer.

“This is my Grandma Rosa,” Tony said quietly.

Rosa Petrocelli was eighty-five years old if she was a day, and obviously accepted her position as head of the family as her just due. Her gaze started at Beth’s feet and trailed upward, ending at her face. She finished her perusal, pausing for a moment for effect. When she was good and ready, she said, “You’re very thin.”

Beth looked past the thinning white hair and the wrinkles lining a face that had lived through a lot of years, and into the other woman’s sharply assessing eyes. “Maybe. But not too thin.”

Rosa Petrocelli’s eyebrows went up. Tapping her cane on the floor to still the gasps behind her, she said, “You also have a strong will, yes? This is good. You’re goin’ta need it to hold your own with our Antonio.”

A chuckle started in one corner of the room, circled around and back again, picking up volume along the way. Rosa muttered a prayer in Italian, and in no time at all, chaos and confusion erupted. Beth was introduced to Tony’s parents and his sisters, and so many other family members she had a difficult time keeping everyone straight. She thought she tallied up eleven children, but she might have counted one adorable little boy who looked to be about four years old twice.

She managed to make it through dinner, or supper, as the Petrocellis called it, without spilling her spaghetti in her lap, although it was surprising that she could eat at all considering all the questions she answered. She glanced up several times and found Tony watching her, and at least one of his sisters nodding in approval.

The dishes were whisked away to the kitchen, Beth’s offer to help with the cleanup quickly denied. The Petrocelli women were very formidable, giving their men strict orders to watch the children and keep Beth duly entertained. It didn’t take long for Tony’s father and brothers-in-law to draw him into a discussion about baseball, oblivious to their children’s noisy play and the woman they’d been instructed to amuse. Seizing a moment of solitude, Beth strolled through an arched doorway and into another room.

The room was small and appeared to be used as some sort of den. An overstuffed sofa took up one wall, and a cozy armchair was placed at a comfortable angle nearby with doily-topped end tables on either side. There was an old television in one corner, and everywhere, on every available surface, sat framed photographs in all shapes and sizes. Beth studied them, intrigued.

There was a black-and-white snapshot of a man in uniform, another of a solemn-faced wedding couple, and color photos of everything from first communions to weddings to smiling babies. Tony’s sisters looked so much alike it was difficult to tell who was who. But Tony was easy to spot. She’d noticed the way his mother, grandmother and four sisters all doted on him, making it obvious that he was the family favorite—because he was the only boy, or because he kept himself slightly aloof, she couldn’t be sure.

“Are you hiding or wandering?”

Beth spun around, flushing guiltily. Tony was leaning in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, a lazy light in his eyes. Wondering what had happened to her air of calm and self-confidence, she said, “A little of both, I suppose.”

He pushed himself from the doorway and ambled farther into the room. “They can be overwhelming at times. Believe me, I know.”

Beth found herself smiling. Although she had wandered into this room to catch her breath and grab a moment of solitude, she certainly couldn’t fault the Petrocellis for the way they’d welcomed her tonight. Shrugging, she said, “Your family is wonderful. I’m just not used to all the touching and embracing and, well, all the noise.”

Tony stopped a few feet away, his gaze trailing over photographs he’d seen a thousand times. “You learn to tune it out. Your family isn’t noisy?”

“Hardly. I only have one sister. We’re very different.”

Something about her tone of voice drew his gaze. “Different, how?” he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Janet is beautiful, poised and gracious. She’s two years older than I am, and she has always made all the right choices. She married a handsome, intelligent man and has three beautiful, intelligent children.”

Tony thought they all sounded extremely politically correct, and wondered why it irked him. Before he was able to come up with an answer, Beth began clicking off names on her fingers. “Let me see if I’ve gotten your family straight. Your father’s name is Vince, your mother is Elena. Carmelina is married to Nick Santini. Gina’s husband’s name is Teddy Bulgarelli. There’s Andreanna and Rocky Grazanti, and Maria and…what’s Maria’s husband’s name again?”

“Frank Giovanni.” His answer had been automatic. Why wouldn’t it be? He’d known Frankie all his life.

With a rustle of silk that kicked his heartbeat into overdrive, she bent down to study another photograph. “Is there anyone in your family who hasn’t married a fellow Italian, Tony?”

He caught a whiff of decadently expensive French perfume, and suddenly, he didn’t want to talk about his family. He waited for his silence to draw her attention, letting his gaze travel over her soft, elegant blouse and long, straight skirt.

“There’s me,” he whispered.

Beth straightened slowly. Had she moved closer, or had he? In the tight space so near him, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say or do. Tony seemed to have no such problem. His breath felt warm on her cheek. A moment later, his lips touched hers. This was the first time he’d kissed her today. She suspected he’d been on his best behavior, but there was no disguising the passion running through him right now.

There was a ruckus in the next room, but it was Elena Petrocelli’s voice coming from the doorway that drew Tony and Beth apart. Calling for attention with a loud clap of her hands, she said, “It’s nice to see that my son takes after his father, but there will be plenty of time for that later. Now, come. Quickly. We have wedding plans to make.”

Beth and Tony ended up in the next room, surrounded by Petrocellis who were all talking at once.

“Bethany,” Elena said, “will your mother be helping you with the wedding plans?”

Beth barely had time to shake her head before Tony’s mother rushed on. “Uh! No problem. I’ve planned four weddings already, and would love to help with yours and my Anthony’s. I know the two of you will be busy with adoption proceedings—I can hardly wait to meet my new grandson. You just leave the wedding plans to me.”

“We’ll have to see about a hall.”

“And food, Mama. We’ll need plenty of food.”

“Tony, were you thinking of an autumn wedding? Or winter?”

Beth cast a look at all the people who were talking and gesturing a mile a minute, then slowly turned her gaze to Tony’s. He leaned closer and said, “I told you they were overwhelming.”

She smiled. She hardly knew this man, yet she had an unsinkable feeling that everything was going to be all right. Tony obviously had strong family ties, and would undoubtedly be a good father to Christopher. Although arranged marriages weren’t common in this day and age, they’d certainly been effective in other eras. She’d married Barry for love. And look how that had turned out. Perhaps a marriage based on mutual respect and the love of an innocent child would fare better.

Tony raised his voice above all the noise. “Sorry to disappoint all of you, but Beth and I aren’t going to have time for a big wedding. We’re going to be married as soon as possible.”

“As soon as possible!” Rosa exclaimed.

“That won’t give Aunt Pasqualina much time to make her famous wedding cake,” Elena sputtered.

“The nice thing about Aunt Pasqualina’s cakes,” one brother-in-law, Beth thought it was Frank, said, “is that you don’t actually eat them.”

“That’s right,” Nick Santini agreed. “We’re still using the cake from our wedding to prop open the back door.”

After giving her husband a sharp jab in the ribs, Carmelina asked, “What do you mean by as soon as possible?”

Tony glanced at Beth. “A week at the latest.”

A gasp went through the room. “A week!” Elena said. “But, Anthony, we’ve been waiting all our lives to hear you say ‘I do’ in a proper wedding ceremony.”

Beth didn’t like the guilt that flooded her. Trying to soften the family’s disappointment, she said, “In order to adopt Christopher, we must be married as soon as possible.”

Mention of the baby changed everything. The Petrocellis took turns nodding and shaking their heads. “A week!” Rosa said. “That don’a leave us much time.”

“That’s all right, Grandma,” Tony said. “We’re planning to be married by a judge.”

A little girl whined over a bumped knee, and a baby started to cry. The adults took the news even worse. Mouths dropped open, then snapped shut, and chaos erupted all over again. Grandma Rosa muttered in Italian, and Vince and Elena sputtered between themselves. Turning suddenly, Elena said, “Anthony, this is a wedding, not a traffic violation. If you must be married within a week, so be it, but at least do it in front of God and Father Carlos.”

“But, Mama,” Gina insisted, “Father Carlos insists upon a six-month waiting period.”

Elena, whose black hair was streaked with gray, turned to Tony and Beth. Raising her chin at a haughty angle, she said, “You two see to the baby, the license and the blood tests, and leave Father Carlos to me.”

Tony and Beth exchanged a look, then slowly nodded. It seemed there wasn’t much more to say. Tony made noises about leaving soon after. Pulling Beth along behind him, he shouldered a path to the door.

“Antonio, wait!”

The crowd parted to make room for Tony’s grandmother to pass. Rosa peered up at her grandson for a long time, then moved on to the woman at his side. Age might have shrunk her frame, but it hadn’t dulled her intelligence or softened her temperament. A flicker of apprehension shot through Bethany. She knows, she thought to herself. Tony’s grandmother knows that this marriage is all because of Christopher. Only because of Christopher.

“Is there something you wanted to say, Grandma?” Tony asked.

When Rosa nodded, Beth tried to prepare for what was to come.

“I just want to welcome you into our family, Bethany. I’ve seen the way you watched all the little ones here tonight, and I believe you’re goin’ta be a fine mother to the child you and my Antonio plan to adopt, and a fine mother to the babies you’ll birth yourself, too. Even if you are a little thin by Italian standards.”

A lump rose to Beth’s throat, making speech impossible. Carmelina flashed her a wink that spoke volumes and a smile that said even more. “Don’t mind Grandma Rosa. She’s always trying to fatten us up. Honestly, my Nicholas was a thin man when I married him.”

“What do you mean, ‘was’?” Nicholas protested.

Ignoring her brother-in-law, Maria said, “That’s right. When Grandma Rosa tells us we’re just right, we always know it’s time to go on a diet.”

“Yes,” Andreanna quipped. “She and Mama are firm believers in feeding a cold and a fever. Besides, you’ll probably put on a little baby fat when you’re pregnant.”

“All these women think about is making babies,” one of the brothers-in-law admonished.

He dodged the jab from his wife and laughed along with the other men. Tony and Beth left seconds later amid a chorus of “goodbyes.”

Beth only wished it was easier to smile.