Tempted in the City (16 page)

Deanna smiled. “Tony Paladino.” It wasn't a question. She'd obviously seen Tony coming and going. Thankfully, there wasn't anything mean or judgmental in her expression. “You're lucky.”

Catherine braced herself.
Please, don't let this conversation turn personal.

“They're the most reliable contractors in the Lower East Side. They did all of the work in this house.”

“Ah.” Catherine relaxed and glanced around. “Very nice.”

“All three brothers are really good guys, and they were weaned on construction. I've known them forever. I was a year behind Tony in school,” Deanna said with a spark of mischief in her eye. “He was pretty notorious back in the day.”

Catherine tried not to show any reaction to the woman's teasing. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Of course you have to know he was the best-looking guy in his class. It wasn't fair, really. All three brothers were hit hard with the handsome stick. But Tony. He was a jock—the quarterback, naturally. Every girl wanted him.”

“Did he end up with the head cheerleader?”

“No. He didn't really have a girlfriend until middle of junior year. That's when he hooked up with Angie. They were on and off for a while, but eventually they got married. As I'm sure you know, it didn't work out. I don't think I ever heard the real reason why. Just rumors.”

“Those do run pretty thick down these streets.”

Deanna rolled her eyes as she chuckled. “It's the most important currency in town, especially for my mother's generation. They were all stay-at-home moms or they worked in the family shops. I think it's still a bone of contention that many of their daughters want to have their own jobs and be independent.”

“I can imagine.”

“It gives them something to talk about after church.”

Catherine sipped her coffee, hoping she and Tony weren't today's topic of conversation. Then she thought about his mother, and wondered if that attitude toward working mothers had been instrumental in Tony's breakup with Angie.

“I wanted to mention that I'm installing a rooftop garden,” Catherine said. “Six sizable raised beds for vegetables, a small greenhouse for winter, some trees and flowers. I'm having a separate entryway built so that you and your family, and other neighbors, can plant and harvest whatever you grow.”

“Seriously?” Deanna seemed genuinely excited. “That's very generous.”

“I caught the bug at work. We have community gardens that are lovely. It's such a great way to meet people. Unfortunately, there's going to be a crane involved, but not for long. Just know I'm not doing it to punish anyone. It should only take a day for everything to be lifted up.”

“I think that's a wonder—”

Behind Catherine, the front door opened. One look at Deanna's face told her that Mrs. Masucci had come home.

“Mama,” she said. “Mrs. Soriano. I've made fresh coffee. And look, we have a guest. She brought this amazing cake for us. Isn't that nice?”

Catherine stood and faced her two neighbors. Yes, these were the two women she'd bumped into before. “Hello. I'm Catherine Fox. I live in the old Calabrese house.” She held out her hand to Mrs. Masucci first. Instead of a ready hand, she was given a look that was equal parts surprise and shock. Then the hand came out and it was like shaking a cold, wet noodle. But Catherine didn't give up.

She held her hand out to Mrs. Soriano. “And of course, we've met. I was going to come properly introduce myself later today. I'm so sorry it's taken me this long.”

The return handshake was just as unenthusiastic. Both women were clearly not pleased that she'd come by.

“Catherine's installing a rooftop garden next door,” Deanna said, trying hard to sound upbeat. “And she's invited us to plant whatever vegetables we'd like. She's even putting in a separate access so we can come and go.”

Mrs. Masucci nodded, as neutral a comment as was possible. Then she leaned slightly to her right, and said in Italian, “It's from a bakery. What kind of person doesn't do her own baking?”

“She doesn't know better,” Mrs. Soriano replied, also in Italian.

“Mom,” Deanna said, her tone sharp. Embarrassed. “It's extremely generous of Catherine to offer her garden space. You're always saying it's a shame we have no real garden.”

“I grow tomatoes in the pots,” her mother said, this time in English. “They do well.”

“Yes,” Deanna said. “But we'll be able to grow lettuce, peppers. Whatever we like.”

Her mother, who must have been in her late sixties, stood with a straight back and an uncompromising gaze. There was no attempt to make Catherine feel welcome. In fact, it was just the opposite. The older woman shifted her handbag to her other arm. “So, you'll be putting the house up for sale when you finish?”

“Actually, no.” Catherine stood up straighter herself, although she didn't want to make Deanna feel uncomfortable. “I'm planning on staying.”

Her Italian whisper carrying well into the kitchen, Mrs. Soriano muttered, “Not if we can help it.”

Catherine turned and smiled at Deanna, who was staring daggers at the older ladies. “Thank you for the coffee. I really must be going.” She turned to the two women and in perfect Italian said, “And thank you for your kind welcome to the area. This visit has been very enlightening.”

Then she walked out of the house without looking back, went straight into her own kitchen, where she'd left the cake for Mrs. Soriano, and dropped the entire thing into the garbage.

17

F
INALLY
, G
EORGE
HAD
come through with the glass blocks for the master shower to match the originals that Tony and Catherine had discovered were in one of the earliest designs. They'd been delivered on Tuesday, and Tony was able to book the rooftop garden designer to come on Wednesday evening. But none of that mattered now. Tony had been very anxious to see Catherine. Since he'd left her on Sunday, they'd talked on the phone, but she'd worked late two nights. He'd apologized again and told her he'd put together some clothes to leave at her house...just in case. He'd thought they'd worked things out.

Now that the plumbing and hardware were complete in the master bathroom, he and Catherine were installing the semiopaque glass. The job wasn't difficult. Aside from the material, it was simple masonry, which he'd been doing since he was a kid. He'd gotten to her place on time, having cleared his schedule to meet her just after she'd arrived home from work. She'd even put on music that was from this decade, which was a nice change from classical.

And yet...

Something was wrong. He'd noticed it immediately. Catherine had kissed him hello, but it had been quick, perfunctory. Which in itself wasn't alarming. But that had been only the tip of the iceberg. She didn't seem excited about the wall and she should have been. Had been when they'd discussed it. And she was able to participate because the project was just her speed. She'd come to like feeling as if she was part of the restoration process. It was her chance to make the shower her own, show off how much she'd learned. She loved that stuff. But he hesitated to say anything. Maybe she was just having one of those days. Maybe something had happened at work. Maybe a lot of things.

If she hadn't kept avoiding his gaze, he wouldn't have brought it up, but he couldn't not. “Catherine?”

“Yes?” she said, too quickly. Too brightly.

“Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” she said, giving him a token smile before she focused on the next block. “Everything's fine.”

He set down his trowel, covered the mortar and put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped at the contact. “I might be able to help if you tell me what's going on.”

She took a deep breath and finally looked at him. “I'm sorry to drop a bomb so late in the game, but I've been doing a lot of thinking. I've decided to scale back my plans for the garden.”

He could feel her tense under his hands, so he let her go, but stayed close. “What do you mean, scale back?”

“A community garden is a lot of work. I think I'm going to just do a couple of raised beds, enough for my own use. And, you know, it was kind of ridiculous to think about a whirlpool up there. I'll probably just go with the greenhouse instead, and four trees should be plenty. Oh, and I'll need to cancel the outdoor staircase.”

The way she talked was utterly unlike her. It was as if her inner light had dimmed. He hated it. “Is this about the cost?”

“No. I told you, that's not the problem.”

“You could hire people to maintain the garden and the tub. All of it. Tailor it to your needs.”

“Thanks. I know. I didn't want it to be like that, though. And with the unpredictable winters here—I don't know. It just feels like too much.”

“I'm confused. Did something happen? Did I do or say—?”

“No. I've just changed my mind, that's all.”

She went over to her newly installed tempered glass sink and washed her hands. No grinning, no playing with the hardware. It had taken her forever to decide on the precise color of that damn sink, and it was far too new to have become part of the wallpaper.

“Seriously. It's not about you at all,” she said. “In fact, I finally understand what you meant about the neighborhood. Don't worry about it, though. Everything's fine. I mean, now is the time to change my mind, right? I'll pay for the staircase if he's already built it. Anyway, I didn't give up on my jetted bathtub...” She sighed as she dried her hands, then turned back to him. Her smile was sweet and sad. And when she pulled him down for a kiss, he could almost taste her melancholy.

It was bewildering. This wasn't his Catherine. “When you said you understand what I meant...did one of your neighbors come by and act like a jerk?”

“No. But I did go next door.”

“To the Masucci place?” He waited, watching her eyes, the details of the face he'd gotten to know so well. His heart raced, his gut tightened and everything in him called out to take action. To fix this.

* * *

C
ATHERINE
HESITATED
. H
IS
expression was so full of concern she ached for him. It was clear he'd already guessed that the visit hadn't been ideal. In fact, she was sure he knew exactly the kind of reception she'd received.

“I met Deanna. You went to school with her, although she wasn't in your grade.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She was very nice. Made coffee. I explained why I hadn't introduced myself before. I mean, I'd made it difficult for anyone to come by, what with me working so much, and the construction. I told her that the noise wouldn't be bad for too much longer. She understood. It was very pleasant. I mentioned the garden, but I learned that her mother grows her own tomatoes. In pots. I think they have a little area in the back of their house.”

Catherine turned to the half-finished glass wall and picked up a block. But Tony didn't take the hint—he just kept staring at her. Waiting, she imagined, for the punch line.

“Deanna liked the idea that they'd be able to grow a variety of vegetables. Peppers, lettuce. They cook together, from what she said. She and her family live in the garden apartment, and her mother lives up on the top floor, and they share the main space in the middle. Huh. I wonder how long that's going to last? The mother's getting up there in age. She might not have an easy time with the stairs.”

“I take it you met her,” Tony said, his voice edged with anger.

Catherine nodded, but she still didn't look at him. “She came home while I was there. She brought Mrs. Soriano with her.”

“What did she say to you, Catherine?”

“Nothing. Wanted to know if I'd be flipping the house. But then, everyone assumes I will.”

“That's because everyone, including me, is an idiot. Damn it, there's nothing I can do about those old witches. That whole generation feels that they know best about who has the right to live in Little Italy. As if they were the keepers of the keys. Just because their families have lived there a long time doesn't give them any special power. We just have to wait it out. Deal with the fact that they're difficult, and, frankly, mean. Jesus, my own mother and grandmother are hardly models of the kind of neighbors you deserve.”

Catherine was surprised. That he'd included his family meant a lot. They had been a little mean. But Tony had been upset enough for both of them, so she'd let it go. It shouldn't have mattered that she understood Italian. People with generous hearts wouldn't say those kinds of things in the first place.

That she didn't figure the whole deal out before she went carrying her cakes to the neighbors stung. Badly. She was a reader of people. An expert. She'd dealt with oligarchs, madmen and heads of state. Her career was built on her ability to make other people understand the real meaning of things when words weren't enough.

Why didn't her gift work in the one place she needed it most? Tony continued to surprise her all the time. As for the old women, they were nothing unusual. There were people like them in every culture. What was wrong with her, that she'd been blindsided? That she let it hurt her so badly?

“Hey,” Tony said gently. “There are also a lot of people like Deanna. Like my brothers, like me, who see you for all you bring to this stupid neighborhood. You just happened to have the bad luck to be sandwiched between two of the worst offenders. Even Nonna doesn't like them, and much as I love her, Nonna can be a bitch.”

That made Catherine laugh. And lightened up the atmosphere. A bit. Tony was still not happy.

“Don't let them change your plans. You don't have to make a decision tonight. See what Ben has to say, okay? He's an expert at designing gardens that fit the owner's personalities and needs.”

Tony uncovered the mortar tray and took up his trowel. “I know we've talked about this before, but you can still change your mind about the basement. It won't have any effect on what we do with your stoop. You've seen a lot of those operations around, with the entrance to the first floor to one side, and the entrance to the store on the other. No one would bother you. And it couldn't hurt as far as the rest of the community is concerned. It would add one more thing that you'd have in common with so many people who live and work here. Just, please don't let it be a bakery. I'd end up huge.”

She smiled. He really was trying to make things okay with her. Which was very sweet. And yet she still heard the voice in the back of her mind that said perhaps he could have warned her? No, he had, in his own way, been very forthcoming about the gossip. And maybe the whole dinner with his family was his way of sending up red flags.

The thing was, he'd been so encouraging. Willing to help her. Making it fun to work by his side, working on the kind of projects she never would have on her own. Just Sunday morning he'd told her that she didn't understand the neighborhood. In retrospect, something a bit more specific would've been helpful.

He was staring at her, waiting for a response, she supposed, except she didn't know what to say. “Look, Catherine, I know it seems weird to you to rent out the basement, but around here—”

“I realize I haven't said much about remodeling that floor, but there's a reason I don't want to rent out the space,” she said, pausing only to take a quick, fortifying breath. “I want children, hopefully in the not too distant future, and I'll need more room for them. No one would want to rent there, only to have me kick them out in a couple of years.”

With that confession, something eased in her shoulders, at the exact same time her heart nearly beat out of her chest. Shock registered on Tony's face. She waited for just a little smile. Even a blink. On the drive to Cape Cod he'd admitted he wanted children. That wasn't at all the reason she'd told him. It was simply the truth, and it affected the work they were doing.

He kept staring without uttering a single word.

Terrific, she could finally read him.

She had to wonder what it was about her that made her desire for children so surprising. Probably because she was, after all, his temporary lover. Not a girlfriend, and maybe not someone he could foresee becoming his life partner.

She couldn't rule out the possibility that Tony had struck up the intimate relationship with her only because he'd expected her to pack up and leave soon.

Oh, God, she didn't want to believe that of him. And she didn't. No, not Tony. And yet he was still completely dumbstruck.

“Did I just scare you to death?” she asked, hoping he would do something. Smile. Make a joke.

He opened his mouth, and from his expression, it didn't appear he was thinking anything good. But the doorbell interrupted whatever it was. She took advantage of the moment, and hurried to let in the rooftop designer.

* * *

T
ONY
STARED
AT
his computer monitor, finally admitting he'd have to do this budget another time. He hadn't been able to concentrate since he'd left Catherine's last night. He'd been relieved when the doorbell chimed, but as soon as the three of them had gone to the roof, he'd realized the timing couldn't have been worse.

Catherine had no enthusiasm and she'd started the whole conversation by telling Ben she wanted to reduce the garden plans to the bare minimum. Even after Ben had shown her his drawings—geared to her original wishes—she'd been distant. Businesslike. As if they'd been discussing someone else's project.

And what had Tony done? Nothing. He'd stood there, fuming about the damn neighbors, trying to figure out a way to make things right. And when he wasn't cursing the old women, he was thinking about Catherine wanting kids. The way she'd said it so matter-of-factly, she could've been speaking to a coworker about her future. So it was pretty clear she'd meant after he was out of the picture.

God, how they'd needed to talk, but when the three of them had left the rooftop and gone downstairs, she'd said good-night. To both of them.

Once he and Ben were outside, he'd planned on calling her, but Ben asked him about another job, and by the time Tony was alone again, phone in hand, Catherine had turned off all the lights. The temptation to knock on the door was strong, but so were his doubts. Idiot. He shouldn't have let anything stop him.

Luca interrupted his self-flagellation. “Hey, Tony.”

“Shut the door.”

His brother paused, eyebrows raised, but did as requested. “What's up?”

“I know you're swamped, but if I take over the Maloof project, would you be willing to take over the Fox job?”

Luca sat down across from Tony and immediately put his feet up on the coffee table between him and the desk. “As in Catherine Fox.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“What difference does it make?”

“I doubt that you meant to sound quite that defensive. Come on, Tony. I know you like her. What's wrong? The job? The two of you?”

Tony leaned back in the big black chair. He hadn't felt this lost since he'd realized he might lose his father. “The job's fine. Sal's been on top of everything. There've been remarkably few fuckups. Catherine met with Ben about the rooftop garden, and she's got to make some decisions about what she wants. Also, Dave Rattigan has a lot of her ironwork done, but he needs to make a trip down here to get some measurements.”