Flint, a noted spin doctor, thought it would be better if a top executive did the honors. And somehow he—the CFO—was the only one who could get up at five in the morning to handle this latest volley in Baronessa’s PR plan.
“If anyone brings up the passion fruit gelato debacle, acknowledge that it was a mistake and one that Baronessa won’t make again. Then use the fact sheet I gave you on the new flavor.”
“Got it,” he said.
Gina smiled at him. “Thanks for doing this.”
“As if I had any choice.” Joe had tried arguing but it was hard to win with his mother or sisters. Italian women never fought fair, and in the end, guilt and familial duty had won out.
“Mom thought you’d be the best one.”
“Yeah, once you convinced her of it. You owe me, Gina.”
She ignored his remark and consulted the schedule in her hand. “I’m going to check and see if the contest winner is here yet.”
Joe watched his sister walk away. Gina was tall compared to other women, but she’d always be his little sister. She had changed in the last few months since her marriage to Flint Kingman. She now wore her curly light brown hair down instead of pinning it up. But then, finding the love of your life could do that to a person. She radiated a glow that only a woman in love had, and he was a little scared to see her so much in love with her new husband.
He’d changed after he’d met Mary. And then changed again after she’d died. But some things were better left in the past—and Mary was one of them.
Though it was only a little after seven, he knew his entire day was shot. He resigned himself to working half the night to make sure the forecasts they’d done for this new gelato flavor were correct. Baronessa needed a shot in the arm, and this contest, as harebrained as he’d thought it was at first, might be the answer.
He sat in one of the first-floor conference rooms in the five-story building that housed the executive offices, patiently having makeup put on for the television interviews he was doing this morning. He had an inkling of why neither his dad, the CEO, or brother Nicholas, the COO, had been unable to free their schedule today.
But Baronessa was worth a few sacrifices and certainly worth the ribbing he’d have to endure if any of his siblings wandered in while he was in the makeup chair.
To distract himself, he glanced around the room. A sense of well-being assailed him as it always did when he realized he was a part of something that had grown from a small family business into an international company. There was something about knowing exactly where you came from.
And there was something about being surrounded by his family history every day that soothed his wounded heart. Most of the time.
The gelateria had grown into more than an ice-cream shop founded in the forties by his grandparents Marco and Angelica and was now a Fortune 500 company. One Joe was proud to work for. He loved his job as CFO and had cut his teeth working for a large entertainment company in California before coming back to Boston and taking his place in the family business.
“Here she is,” Gina said, entering the conference room with another woman.
Joe’s breath caught in his chest. The woman walking toward him bore an uncanny resemblance to his deceased wife. Slim and petite, she had auburn hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. Mary’s hair had been shorter, he thought. But her features were similar. Heart-shaped face, full lips and a nose that curved the slightest bit to the right at the end.
Joe prided himself on his resilience. He’d survived things that would have destroyed a lesser man. But he didn’t want to tour the company’s headquarters with the doppelgänger of his deceased wife. Gina would just have to do it.
“Holly Fitzgerald, this is my brother and Baronessa’s chief financial officer, Joseph Barone.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Fitzgerald,” Joe said, shaking her hand. Her hand in his felt soft, small, fragile. Damn. It had been a long time—five years to be exact—since he’d held a hand that delicate.
“Please call me Holly.”
He nodded. He’d survived by keeping himself aloof from women, by letting no one but family close to him, and he didn’t intend to let this contest winner rock the secure moorings of his world. “Gina, can I speak to you privately for a minute?”
“Of course. Holly, why don’t you see our makeup artist. There’s coffee, tea and juice on the sideboard. We’ll be right back.”
Joe didn’t wait for his sister but walked out of the conference room. His brother-in-law was tall with chocolate brown hair and, according to his sisters, drop-dead gorgeous.
“Where’s Holly?” Flint asked as soon as Joe stepped into the hallway.
“In makeup.”
“Damn. How long do you think it’ll take?” Flint asked.
“I don’t know. Go check on her.”
“I will. Joe, don’t go anywhere. The satellite uplink is ready and we have about ten minutes before the first interview.”
Gina came out of the room and the look on her face let him know she wasn’t pleased with him. “What’s up?”
“I can’t do this,” Joe said.
“Joe, we’ve been over this. There is no one else,” Gina said.
When Gina talked to him like that, he felt like a four-year-old who wasn’t getting his way. But there was not a chance he was going to spend the day with a woman who reminded him of things he didn’t want to remember.
“Okay, she’s almost ready,” Flint said, coming back out.
“He isn’t,” Gina said, pointing at her brother.
“We don’t have time for this,” Flint said. “You both have to be out in the garden now so that we can get on the morning-news segments on the East Coast.”
Gina tried reassuring him again. “Joe, you’ll do fine. Stick with the script I gave you.”
“I’m not nervous about the interview. I just don’t want to spend the day with her.”
“Joe—”
“I don’t want to spend the day with him, either,” Holly said from the doorway. “In fact, I just want my check and then I’ll be happy to go.”
Of course, he didn’t want to spend the day with her, Holly thought. She probably looked as if she spent too much time in the kitchen, which of course she did. In fact, this morning she’d gotten to the bakery at 3:00 a.m. because of her obligation to Mrs. Kirkpatrick, the owner of the small downtown bakery where Holly worked.
She felt out of place in this old-money office building and wanted nothing more than to get back into her chef’s uniform and back into her pastry kitchen.
She hated the spotlight. She wouldn’t have entered the Baronessa contest except for the thousand-dollar prize. She needed that money
