face lit up. “Good. I’ll fix you something nice. Grace, do you like eggplant parmigiana? Or would you rather have lasagna? With a nice salad and some lovely Tuscan wine we ordered last month and fell in love with.”
“That sounds lovely, but don’t go to any—”
“Save your breath,” Nico said, holding her tightly. “She will feed you no matter what you say, and it will make her happy. After all, we’re here to eat, aren’t we?”
“You are, you are,” Johnny Vitelli said. “We are all here together and what could be better than that?”
Nothing, Grace decided two hours later. Nothing could be better than spending the afternoon with the large and noisy Vitelli family. Maria, her husband, Danny, and their three children arrived while Grace was seated at the large farm table, sipping her first glass of wine and sampling rosemary focaccia with a peppery olive oil. They brought Al with them, since he’d been at their house again that morning. The dog greeted her like a long-lost friend and she sneaked him a piece of her bread. Brian gave Grace a shy smile, then let his grandmother hug and kiss him. His older sister, Anna, got the same treatment from both grandparents before hurrying over to say hello to Grace. She was eleven, she confided while eating a thick slice of bread, and the oldest grandchild.
“I remember you,” Anna said. “You helped me when I was sad, remember?”
It took Grace a moment to realize what the girl meant. Last fall at the lodge Anna had been crying. Her parents were late and she was worried because her little sister had had to go to the hospital with a fever.
“The Girl Scout dinner,” she said. She remembered dispensing hugs and tissues before returning the child to one of the Scout leaders, who’d informed her that Anna’s parents were on their way. The little sister had an ear infection and would be fine.
Another child, a fragile little angel with the sweetest expression Grace had ever seen, pranced into the kitchen and declared she was “dying for risotto.”
“That’s Emily,” Anna explained. “She wants to be an actress.”
“I think she’s a natural.”
They sat around the huge dining table and ate more food than Grace would have ever thought possible. Johnny Vitelli continued to laugh and hug and beam at everyone. Terry organized the cooking and the presentation of the food. The brothers-in-law greeted Grace with great enthusiasm and teased Nico for being the last single Vitelli.
“Someday,” Ben O’Rourke declared, “you, too, will be changing diapers and coaching soccer.”
“Hopefully not at the same time,” said Jon Nally, little Delia sprawled asleep in his arms, said.
“Though it can be done.” Ben winked at Grace.
She blushed. Nico frowned and didn’t look at all amused. He left her side shortly after that and went over to the stove to oversee the pasta.
Her hostess gifts had been a big hit. Terry gave her a warm hug along with her thanks for the spa time and the candles. Johnny immediately opened his scotch and took a “wee sip,” pronouncing it the best he’d ever tasted. Nico’s sisters were fun and welcoming, the children excited and friendly. Al hid under the table at her feet and Terry urged her to try every dish that was placed on the table. It was chaos and noise and laughter and love.
But the more comfortable she felt, the more she enjoyed his family, the more distant Nico grew. She’d overstepped, she realized. She’d read more into this week than was there.
He felt sorry for the lonely woman he worked with. He was kind and caring—he’d built a ramp for his dog, for heaven’s sake—and that was it.
Here at the Vitellis’ she felt as if she’d come home.
And that was the very worst thing that could have happened this Christmas.
“NICO.” HIS MOTHER was waiting for him when he came inside after cleaning the snow from the car. It was almost five o’clock—time to brave the storm and head down the road to the lodge—though Grace was busy learning how to make risotto with Cathy while Anna read Christmas poems to her.
He hated to leave, but there would be other holidays. Other Christmas Eve parties.
“Mom?” He stomped the snow
She gave him a quick hug. “You’re trying to hide it, but your heart is in your eyes.”
Nico didn’t know what to say. He’d hoped no one would notice. There had already been too many arch looks, too much teasing and too many assumptions. He was afraid Grace would feel trapped.
“She seems lovely,” his mother added.
“She is.”
“Yes. We’re happy you brought her today. When you were in California we worried—well, never mind about that.” His mother patted him on the arm. “Is this serious? Will we see her again?”
“You will, I hope.” He kept his voice low. “I’ve been half in love with her since the first time I saw her.”
Terry shook her head. “You are such a romantic, Nico. So it was love at first sight.”
“Like you and Dad.”
“We were very young,” she said, leading him toward the sound of people laughing and talking over each other in the kitchen. “And very lucky to find each other.”
“Then wish me the same luck,” he said, throwing an arm over her shoulder.
“Always,” his mother said. “And especially with that lovely young woman. I hope we didn’t frighten her off.”
“Me, too,” Nico replied, worried that he’d rushed Grace into an intimacy she wasn’t prepared for. He’d sped up the dating process this afternoon. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if he and Grace were officially “dating,” but in his mind they’d been a couple since she’d fallen into his arms four days ago. Four days. She’d lived at his house, slept with his dog, eaten meals in his kitchen and worked with him to plan a wedding and a shower. They’d also collaborated on events almost daily for months. He’d like to think that counted.
But what if he was wrong?
“IT’S PERFECT,” GRACE assured the bride as she posed in her wedding gown. “You’re perfect. Everything is going to go beautifully, but you absolutely must stop crying.” She handed Noelle another tissue. “Blot, don’t rub.”
“The storm—”
“Hasn’t changed one thing about your wedding.”
“Just the maid of honor. My sister—”
“Is stuck because of the storm, I know,” Grace
