maybe the Peruvian rain forest would freeze over in a freak weather anomaly tonight, too.
Okay, that kind of negative thinking wasn’t going to do her any good. She had to think positive. No matter what, she wasn’t about to beg off dinner. That would hurt Giosue, and Faith didn’t let children down. Ever.
She’d experienced that particular phenomenon too many times herself to inflict it on the young people in her life.
She gave both males her best winning smile and asked, “May I come in now, or were you planning to have dinner on the front porch?”
Giosue laughed and dragged her over the threshold, forcing his father to move out of the way or get knocked into. “We’re eating outside, but in back, silly signora.”
“And did you cook, Gio?”
“I helped. Ask Papa.”
She looked back over her shoulder at the silent man following their progress through the house.
“Indeed he did. He is a favorite with our housekeeper.”
“It’s easy to understand why. Gio’s a little charmer.”
“Signora!” Gio exclaimed in the long-suffering tone only an eight-year-old boy could affect so perfectly.
“Do not tell me it embarrasses you to discover your favorite teacher also holds you in high regard,” his father teased him.
The boy shrugged, blushing, but said nothing. Faith’s heart melted a little more toward him. He would make such a wonderful stepson and big brother. But she was getting ahead of herself. By light-years.
“So, what are we having for dinner?” she asked.
Especially after realizing Tino had not intended to invite her to dinner. That he had, in fact, been wholly ignorant of her relationship with his son and mother.
“Wait until you see. I got to stuff the manicotti. The filling is yummy.”
Giosue was right, the manicotti was delicious. As was everything else, and the company wasn’t bad, either. Tino started off a little stiff, but being around his son relaxed him. As hard as he so plainly tried to keep things between himself and Faith distant, his usual behavior got the better of him. He touched her when he talked to her, nothing overtly sexual. Just the normal affectionate-Sicilian-nature style, but it felt good—right.
Gio asked tons of questions about her art, questions there wasn’t time for during class. Several times she caught Tino looking surprised by her answers. But then, he knew almost nothing about that part of her life. For the first time that really bothered her. Her art made up the biggest part of her life and he was sadly ignorant of it.
That realization, more than anything else, put the nature of their relationship into perspective. While his behavior lately might indicate it was changing, theirs was still primarily a sexually based connection.
“You are asking so many questions, amorino, I am beginning to think you wish to grow up to be an artist.”
“Oh, no, Papa, I want to be a winemaker like Nonno.”
“Not a businessman and vintner like your papa?” Faith asked.
“He will have to have another son to do that. I want to get my hands dirty,” Giosue said with absolute certainty.
Rather than take offense, Tino laughed aloud. “He sounds just like my father.” He shook his head, the amusement still glittering in his eyes. “However, there will be no brothers, or sisters either. Perhaps Calogero will finally marry and have children, but if not—when I get too old to do my job, we will have to hire a business manager.”
“You will never be too old, Papa.”
Tino just smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “You know there is nothing to stop you from making art a hobby while you follow in your grandfather’s footsteps. Isn’t that right, Faith?”
She was still reeling from the dead-on surety in Tino’s tone when he said there would be no sisters or brothers for Giosue, but she managed to nod and smile at the expectant little boy.
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