Jeanie London – Then There Were Three (страница 11)
He doubted Violet had gotten around to filling Megan in on the details of her ride to the station in a cruiser, so he would probably get to break the news. Irony at its finest. He and Megan hadn’t had a thing to do with each other for fifteen years and now all they needed to do was talk.
“Yo, Daddy, you ever joining the party?” Damon’s annoying voice broke into Nic’s thoughts. “Save us from giving your life history to my beautiful niece.”
“Looks like congratulations are in order, big bro,” Vince said. At least Nic had one brother who wasn’t such an asshole.
“What’s with this family? Doesn’t anyone work?” Nic hissed under his breath as he glared at his mother. “You pick today for a freaking family reunion. Thank you.”
“I wanted Violet to feel welcomed, and I thought you could use backup.” His mother headed into the kitchen to run interference, probably scared she would be down more than one son with Nic in his current mood.
“Knock it off, you two,” she admonished. “Nic and Megan haven’t eaten yet. Let me grab some plates.”
Tess started to rise, but his mother motioned her to stay seated. “Thanks but no thanks, honey. You’ve got your hands full. Come on, Violet. It’s time for a tour.”
“You’re Italian.” Anthony winked. “Kitchens are going to be a big part of your life from now on.”
Violet hopped up, so clearly eager.
“Tell me you’ve been raising my niece right.” Damon wrapped an arm around Megan’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “She does know what a cannoli is, right? Aglio Et Olio?”
Megan smiled cordially. “We traveled through Abruzzo on our way to Rome while we were living in Croatia. Does that count?”
“Yeah, and it was so great we went back to hike in Majella on holiday.” Violet stood on tiptoe to grab the good plates that were in a cabinet above his mother’s reach.
“Abruzzo?” Damon asked in mock horror.
“We’re from the wine country in western Sicily,” Anthony explained. “Your grandfather was from Ravenna, but we don’t like to talk about that.”
“Don’t let them worry either of you.” Tess bounced Annabelle on her lap. “The closest I’ve ever been to Italy is a neighborhood in New York, and I make out fine around here.”
“Don’t know how we ever got along without her.” His mother blew a kiss to Tess. “She helps me keep these boys in line.”
“And they are a handful,” Tess added. “Trust me.”
With a laugh, Violet set a plate down in front of Megan, and Damon did the honors of serving. Megan’s eyes widened as he heaped enough pasta on her plate to feed a small country.
“Just a taste, please.”
“When was the last time you ate Mama’s food?” Damon asked.
“Honestly, so long ago I don’t remember.”
Nic remembered, though. The last time he’d brought her to the house for Sunday dinner, a time-honored DiLeo tradition. She’d been quiet even then, overwhelmed by all the noisy chaos of his big family, of the family and friends coming and going at all hours.
Now she didn’t look so much overwhelmed as determined to hold her own in the midst of a lot of strong personalities. A protective mother, maybe. Or unsure of her reception. Nic couldn’t figure it out.
“Trust me then.” Damon drizzled olive oil over the plate. “You’ll want seconds. Parmesan or Romano?”
Nic didn’t hear her reply because Violet appeared and asked politely, “Where would you like to sit?”
He could see the uncertain excitement in her expression, the waiting. His mother was right. He needed to be careful with whatever he said and did right now.
“Next to Anthony, thanks.” Wouldn’t hurt to keep the table between him and Damon in his present frame of mind.
“Budge up,” he told his brother then slid another chair to the crowded table and sat.
Violet set the plate in front of him then returned to artfully arrange a place setting in front of him as if it mattered. She didn’t seem to notice everyone watching her. Megan looked as if she was barely holding it together.
He wasn’t sure why he noticed.
“Thanks. Looks great.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, but he did want her to know he appreciated her effort.
“Would you like something to drink?”
He wanted coffee, but as she’d set a glass in front of him, he said, “Water, please.”
Off she went back to the counter to grab the pitcher, and he half expected someone—Damon most likely—to make a crack about her eagerness to serve him, but even his idiot brother kept his mouth shut this time.
Normally, every damned one of them would have thrown him under the bus, but today they cut him slack, seeming to understand the importance of this first family gathering, the fact that he and Megan—and Violet for that matter—hadn’t figured out how to handle the situation yet.
Or deal with the shock, in his case.
So they kept Violet talking about school and living abroad and her hobbies, getting to know the new family addition, while Megan pushed food around her plate, answering questions whenever they were directed her way. Talk finally circled to how long they intended to stay in New Orleans.
“Megan, you mentioned going to a hotel.” Nic braced himself to meet that blue gaze across the table. “But my mother invited you and Violet to stay here. You good with that?”
Surprise flashed in her eyes, and he knew he was putting her on the spot. But she might as well get used to being part of the family. She said she wanted to work something out, and at the very least that meant they’d be running into each other on important occasions for the rest of their lives.
Graduations. Weddings. Baptisms.
They were Violet’s parents. They were in this together, forever.
He started pushing food around his plate, too.
“That’s very nice of you to offer,” Megan began.
“I insist,” his mother said, going straight for the throat. “I absolutely insist. I’ve got this big empty house and Violet said you’ve been living in South America. Who knows when I’ll see you again?”
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