Before she joined him, she twirled around before she found her coffee cup on the small table by the single chair.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “you don’t have to look at everything. I’ll just give you an idea of what I like, so that we don’t have to go into a lot of detail until we catalog what I’ve got. Does that sound all right?”
“Excellent.” Crazy, but that twirl of hers had thrown him off. He wasn’t worried about her design book, just making a fool of himself. “I’m all yours.”
She flipped open the cover of the binder. He immediately saw a slew of colored tabs labeled with black markers. At first, it wasn’t easy to pay attention to the pictures, or the conversation, when all he really wanted was to watch her expressive face. Inhale her exotic scent. But her enthusiasm won in the end.
Her taste was eclectic—there were styles from Shaker to Asian, although he could see her heart belonged to art deco. But as she described the rooms, he could see how the styles would fit together into something uniquely hers.
There was a whole section on Little Italy alone, and while she refilled their coffee cups for the second time he looked at the pictures of the different buildings he’d either visited, studied or worked on. So much had changed in the last sixteen years. He knew that the changes had begun a long time before that, but ever since he’d started at NYU, he’d really paid attention.
Just like the rest of the city, Little Italy real estate had been hit with skyrocketing prices. Most of the people his folks had grown up with had moved to Queens, New Jersey or somewhere warm.
With each turn of the page his old appreciation for the history of his neck of the woods was reawakened. It could be an amazing place, if one landed on the right street, in the right building.
“What drew you here?” he asked. “I mean to this neighborhood. This house?”
Catherine absently ran her hand over a picture of a white bedroom suite. “I was familiar with the building. And I know how rare it is to find any single family homes here.”
“You already have a buyer in mind?”
Her eyebrows drew down. “A buyer? No. This is my house. I want to live the rest of my life right here.”
She wasn’t flipping the place? She’d make a lot of money, especially once it was remodeled. Unfortunately, she hadn’t moved into the right building at all. Not with those two neighbors on either side of her. He loved the neighborhood for the most part, but it was a tight community. It would be different if she’d settled on the fringes. As it was, the old ladies who’d kept their single family homes for generations would never make her feel welcome.
“Tony? Is there something wrong?”
He relaxed his shoulders and his attitude. “No. I’m just used to people making the old tenement buildings into either commercial properties or multiple dwellings. The prices just keep going up, so there’s a lot of flipping, especially now that the old Little Italy is becoming an extension of Nolita on one end and Chinatown on the other. From what you’ve told me, you’d make a killing after the restoration and renovation. So I assumed.”
“No. This is the house for me. I only lived in London for a year, and I knew it wasn’t permanent. I’ve never really had a home of my own. Can’t imagine a more wonderful place to start. It’s why I’m being so picky about everything. I’m only sorry I haven’t met any of my neighbors, or even had the chance to truly explore what’s around me. But I’ve got time. Assuming the renovation doesn’t do me in.”
He smiled, but the mood that had carried them away while looking at her dream book turned sour in his gut. She might love this house, make it into a showplace of what could be done to combine the new sensibilities with the old craftsmanship. But damn, she was facing an uphill battle.
The old-timers were stuck in the past. Most of them railed against any change at all. They wanted the customs of their childhoods, the shops and open-air markets. Half the people living in these older buildings, which they’d had no compunction turning into twenty-first-century, easy-living units, still hung their laundry out their windows. But they weren’t friendly to people they considered interlopers.
Should he tell her now? Make sure she understood what she was getting into?
His gaze moved down to her book of dreams and he knew he couldn’t. Maybe her restoration would make the difference. It could happen. And he wouldn’t be the one to take that opportunity away.
Something buzzed. A tone he didn’t recognize. Catherine’s cell phone. She got up to find her purse, and Tony looked at his watch once more.
His heart sank like a stone. Two hours had gone by. Two hours, which had felt like fifteen minutes. He pulled out his cell phone and saw four texts he’d missed. One was from Gina, the others from Rita.
He could tell by her well-chosen, very succinct words Rita was beyond pissed that he’d stood her up. No way she would talk to him even if he did call. But at least he could text her an apology. And beg for forgiveness. He knew Rita. Despite everything, she’d be willing to hook up at the next opportunity.
When Catherine walked back into the room, he understood exactly why time had flown. It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to work on the restoration with her. Although it was probably for the best.
Catherine Fox was a client. An important one. This was no time to get distracted. Not when his family was counting on him. And sadly, odds were she’d be packing up soon enough. Catherine would never belong here in Little Italy.
* * *
“TO MAKING THINGS OFFICIAL...boss.” Luca held up his icy beer as he looked at Tony.
“Just don’t take that title too seriously, but yeah,” Dominic said. “To the new boss.”
Tony clicked his glass to theirs and looked pointedly at Luca. “Thank you.” Then he turned to face Dom. “And don’t you start getting any crazy ideas in your head. Everything’s going to be just like it has been. Well, there’ll be a few changes, but Pop went out of his way to accommodate your website design and marketing plans, and—”
“Shut up,” Dom said. “I’m a Paladino, too. I’m not about to neglect my duties. Chill.”
Their waitress arrived with their dinners, and as she served them, Tony gave his youngest brother a hard look. Dom wouldn’t do anything too crazy. All the kid wanted was to test out his natural gifts. He was a hell of a charmer, could sell almost anything to virtually anyone. Dom didn’t want to stay in the neighborhood, Tony knew, and he would do everything in his power to make sure the kid could fly the coop. Eventually. When things were a little more stable, and after Dom finished getting his master’s degree in marketing.
Tony got busy fixing his baked potato and shifted his attention to Luca. He had dreams, too. He’d make a hell of an architect once he went back to finish his apprenticeship. Their dad’s poor health had temporarily turned everyone’s life upside down.
“So,” Luca said, “what did you think of Catherine Fox’s newfound love of restoration?”
It had been a couple days since he’d met with Catherine and he’d thought about that visit far too often. “I think she’ll make the place a stunner.”
“Dad said she wanted to
