A Bouquet of Love (9 page)

You might be Greek if you tell your mama you're not hungry and she thinks you have an eating disorder.

W
e somehow made it inside Parma John's and were greeted by Bella, who seemed more than delighted to see us.

“Cassia, I'm so glad you're here! Your timing is perfect!” She grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Gabi just called and told me all about her meeting with you this morning. She loves your ideas for her wedding. Says you're a genius.”

I melted like butter in the sun at this flattering remark. “Really? I enjoyed getting to know her. By the way, her wedding dress is a-
may
-zing. Gorgeous. And those bridesmaid dresses are going to be great too.”

“She's a genius too, and that's good news for us. I have a feeling she's going to bring in even more business to the flower shop and Club Wed, now that she's got her own line of dresses. She has a knack for knowing how to merge fabrics and flowers.”

“Awesome.” I peeked at Alex out of the corner of my eye to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep at the wheel while we talked shop. Nope. The boy looked interested, even.

“She's on her way here now to talk about the ceremony,” Bella said. “Want to join us? I'd love to hear all about the flower choices. That will help me make some decisions about the decor in the chapel and reception hall. What do you think?” She looked back and forth between Alex and me. “Unless you two are . . . I mean, I don't want to interrupt your lunch plans.”

For a moment I thought Alex might be bothered by her suggestion to turn our lunch-for-two into a lunch-for-four, but he seemed to take it in stride. Just one more reason to tumble head over heels for this guy. He looked like a real Greek hero but definitely had the manners of a Southern gentleman.

Before Gabi arrived, however, Bella decided to introduce me to the entire Rossi clan. Well, all of those who happened to be at Parma John's that day. After following her into the kitchen, I met her brother Nick, who was Marcella's husband. Then Armando, another brother. Then Jenna, Bella's best friend. Then Sophia, Bella's sister and co-owner of Sassy Shears.

We headed back out to the front of the shop, and I offered a little wave to Bella's mother, who sat at a table with several other women. Then I followed behind Bella to the cash register to meet her uncle Laz. Not that he had time to talk,
what with so many customers to tend to. I waited in silence, hoping he wouldn't recognize me from the other day when he'd stormed out into the street to confront my father.

Laz finished up with his final customer and glanced our way. As I got a close-up look at his aging face, I knew he wasn't a mobster. The twinkle in his eyes spoke of mischief, and the cane that he leaned on convinced me that age had taken its toll. He hobbled our way.

“Who have we here?” Bella's uncle narrowed his gaze and shifted his cane to the other hand. “Don't believe we've met before.”

Thank goodness he didn't recognize me. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, that's because she's new to the island,” Alex said.

“My name is Cassia.” I deliberately skipped mentioning my last name.

“Cassia?” Laz's brow furrowed, and for a moment I thought I saw him glance toward Super-Gyros across the street. Just as quickly, he looked back at me. “Lovely name. Mediterranean?”

“Um, yes, sir.”

“Well, any friend of Bella's is a friend of the whole Rossi family.” He extended a wrinkled hand and I took it, offering a lame shake. “You can call me Uncle Laz. Everyone around here does.”

“Guess that makes you family now.” Bella chuckled. “Welcome, sis.” She then introduced me to the rest of the clan, but I could barely keep up. Rosa, who I recognized at once from
The Italian Kitchen
. Bella's brother Joey—a fellow shorter than me by an inch or two—and his wife. Someone named Bubba, who turned out to be Jenna's husband.

Really? Bubba? In an Italian family?

On and on the list went. She lost me when she started introducing some of the local patrons who were having lunch at the various tables, but my interest was piqued when I saw the photographer—what was her name again? Hannah something?—my dad had hired to photograph him in the Super-Gyros costume. I prayed she wouldn't remember me from the other day.

She didn't. Apparently she'd been too busy dealing with my crazed father to pay much attention to the rest of the family. The woman gave me a friendly nod, then went back to looking over the spread of photos on her table.

Something outside the window caught my eye. I looked across the street and caught a glimpse of my father sweeping the sidewalk in front of Super-Gyros, but I didn't mention it for obvious reasons. If Babbas could see me now, he would kill me. Slice me up with the meat cutter. Give my body parts to the nuns to dispose of in their convent's garden.

I hid behind a menu, imagining my funeral. Wouldn't be much of a crowd. All of my friends lived in California.

Well, most of them.

“See something you like?” Alex asked.

“Yeah.” I peeked out from behind my menu. “Lots of options, but I need to make a decision soon. I don't want to be away from the flower shop for long. Don't want to risk losing any customers.”

“Would you like to try our special of the day—a large Mambo Italiano pizza with two cappuccinos for only $17.95?” Jenna asked. “That's my personal favorite.”

Bella shook her head. “Lunch is on me today, so order whatever looks good.” She offered us a table up front, but I claimed the sun would give me hives.
Really, Cassia? That's
all you can come up with
—another hives story?
She moved us to the back of the room, far from the sunlight streaming in from the windows.

“This okay?” she asked.

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Really stinks, you being from California and having this weird sun sensitivity,” Bella said.

“She's allergic to tzatziki sauce too,” Alex said.

“Tzatziki sauce?” Bella's brow wrinkled. “What's that?”

“Oh, it's a great dressing for salads and sandwiches,” I said. “And for dipping. You take yogurt and cucumbers and dill and mix them together, then you add lemon and olive oil and some spices. Then you spread it on anything and everything.” I went into a lengthy discussion of the sauce, pretty much giving away Mama's secret recipe to all who were within earshot.

“Man, it sounds good. Might have to try that myself.” Bella laughed. “But if I do, don't tell Uncle Laz. He made us take an oath that we wouldn't eat anything Greek now that the competition has moved in across the street.” She gestured with her head to Super-Gyros, and I swallowed hard and tried to keep a straight face.

Peeking around my menu, I looked at the Super-Gyros sign. It looked pretty good from this angle. Really good, actually.

Bella kept on talking, oblivious to my thoughts. “But seriously, Cassia, if you have a problem with the sun, you might need to live in Colorado or someplace like that.”

Right now I'd like to live in Colorado. Or Kansas. Any landlocked state would do. Anyplace where a nutty father wouldn't come looking for me.

Thank goodness I didn't have much time to fret over Bab
bas. Seconds later Parma John's door swung open and Bella greeted Gabi, the gorgeous bride-to-be. The two women chatted with ease, and I leaned over to make sure Alex wasn't put off by the interruption.

“You okay with this?” I whispered.

“Sure, why not.” His expression reflected his ease. “We can always do lunch next time at that new place across the street. We'll just skip the tzatziki sauce. Oh, and we'll sit in the back of the shop, away from the sun. Maybe over there we'll have some peace and quiet . . . time to ourselves.”

Sure we will.

But from the look in his eye, I could tell he wanted time alone with me. Flattering. Not that I had time to think it through. Bella pulled over a chair and gestured for Gabi to join us.

She took a seat and grabbed my hand. “Oh, Cassia! I'm still on cloud nine from our meeting earlier. I told Bella that she'd better snag you up quick.”

“Snag me up quick?” What did that mean? I already had a job. Make that two jobs.

“Sure.” Gabi's long lashes fluttered as she grew more excited. “For Club Wed. The Vendors Square area. Your work is amazing. She needs to add you to her list of preferred vendors.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Do you mind if we talk flowers while we eat?” Gabi asked. “I'm starving.”

“Oh, of course not.” I could talk flowers over food, as long as Alex didn't mind.

He began to talk about the new species of roses he had named after me, and before long we were all engaged in a conversation about wedding flowers once again.

“Looks like I've lost all of you.” Bella chuckled. “That's okay. Gabi and I can talk about the ceremony later. I'll put in your pizza order. Do you guys know what you want?”

“Cassia's never been here before,” Alex said. “So she gets to choose.”

I perused the menu and tried to make a choice. Pepperoni sounded good. So did the Mambo Italiano, the special of the day. That would explain the Dean Martin song playing repeatedly overhead. I'd noticed the themed music the moment I walked in. Still, they didn't have my favorite pizza—the Greek Zorba. Weird. What sort of pizza place didn't carry the Zorba?

“What strikes your fancy?” Bella asked. “You like pepperoni?”

“Yes.” I must've wrinkled my nose or something because she gave me a curious look.

“What is it? Don't see what you like?”

I'd never had a very good poker face. “Well, I have a favorite, but I don't see it listed. It's a Greek pizza we used to get back home in—anyway, it's no biggie. I love pepperoni.”

“What is this Greek pizza?” Uncle Laz appeared beside me, looking more than a little interested.

“Oh, well, it's really just a combination of things I love—lamb, kalamatas, feta, spinach, a little lemon on the crust. Loaded with flavor and good for you too. Heart healthy.”

“You've said the magic words!” Laz clasped his hands together, his cane falling to the wayside. “I need to add more heart-healthy choices, especially now that I . . .”

Rosa joined us and finished his sentence. “My Laz had an episode with his heart a while back, and we've been looking for ways to get him to mind the doctor.”

“She has the perfect solution, Rosa.” Laz tried to reach down to grab his cane, and Bella snagged it before he toppled over. “And this will work on multiple levels.”

“What do you mean?” Rosa asked.

“This is the perfect plan to beat that new restaurant owner at his own game.” Laz's eyes gleamed as he rattled off something in Italian. Then he made a proclamation in English. “This young woman has just given me all the ammunition I need to draw people who love Greek food over to our side of the street!”

Oh. No.

Lord, please don't let them bury
me in that pink dress Yia Yia loves so much.
I look awful in pink! And if there's any
justice at all, please don't let Mama do my
makeup.

Bella looked back and forth between me and her uncle, a bewildered look on her face. “I don't know, Uncle Laz. We don't really know that much about Greek food. Besides, people come here for great Italian cuisine, you know? Seems kind of silly.”

“But we've got to fight fire with fire, and that man across the street is hot under the collar already.” Laz's deep chuckle had a bit of an edge to it. “Just wait till he sees our new Greek pizza advertised on the board outside. That should do the trick!”

That should do the trick, all right. Babbas would flip.

“Won't be healthy for his heart, now will it!” Laz gave me a hearty whack on the back just as I took a sip of my soda, which came shooting out of my nose. Perfect. Talk about making a great impression on Alex. He seemed mesmerized by this whole conversation.

“Thank you, young lady,” Laz said. “I owe you.”

I couldn't manage anything but a weak nod, but Laz didn't appear to be paying attention to me anyway. Instead, he hollered across the room at an incoming patron, telling him all about my brilliant-beyond-brilliant idea. Great. Before long everyone on the island would know I had inspired the new Greek pizza. Maybe he'd even name it after me. That would just be the icing on the cake.

Cake. Mmm.

My gaze shifted to the opening between Parma John's and the bakery next door, Let Them Eat Cake. The smell of baked goods drew me in, almost distracting me from the problem at hand. In that moment an idea occurred to me. I knew just how I would get out of here without raising suspicion from the other side of the street. After we finished our pizza, I would come up with some reason to go into the bakery—maybe buy a cake or something—and then go out the bakery door. Perfect. That way, if I was spotted from the opposite side of the street, no one would question my loyalty.

Just as I settled this issue in my mind, I caught a glimpse of a familiar man out of the corner of my eye. A shiver ran down my spine as I took in the fellow in the expensive suit, the one who'd gotten out of the limousine the other day. His confident stride spoke of authority as he headed right toward us. In his right hand he carried the dark case, the same one Babbas had insisted held a machine gun. As the well-dressed fellow lifted the case onto the counter by the cash register, I fought the temptation to duck under the table. I couldn't die at Parma John's. I just couldn't. My father would never forgive me.

“You okay over there?” Bella asked.

I nodded but didn't mean it. “Just, um, wondering about
that man over there.” I spoke in a strained whisper. “The one with the case.”