A Bouquet of Love (19 page)

My heart wanted to burst into song. In fact, it did. As we headed back to the gazebo, as Hannah snapped photos right and left, I just couldn't stop smiling.

Later, as I rode my bike back to the restaurant, I sang with great gusto, “Forget your troubles, c'mon get happy!” This
time I really meant those words. With Brock Benson on our side, we really could get happy. Oh, and what joyous news about the new facility in Splendora! Alex's sisters would be blissful if Bella asked them to co-manage it.

Alex.

I sighed with pure delight as I replayed our kissing scene from yesterday, the one on the back of the trolley. At that moment my phone changed songs and—wonder of wonders!—“The Trolley Song” came on. Coincidence or a sign from above? Didn't matter. It kept me singing all the way up the boulevard.

When I arrived at Super-Gyros, I didn't bother parking my bike out back. No time for that. I left it at the front door, ready to race inside and tell my father the good news about Brock.

It totally threw me when I found the Closed sign on the front door. I tried to push the door open, but someone had locked it from the inside. After I knocked, Darian unlocked it and gestured for me to come inside.

I found the shop strangely quiet. My father sat behind the counter looking glum. Beside him, all of my siblings sat in a row, somber looks across their faces. At once my heart went to my throat. Something terrible had happened.

I took several cautious steps toward Babbas, a lump growing in my throat. “Babbas? Did someone . . . die?” I looked around for Yia Yia but couldn't find her. My heart plummeted to my toes.

“No, Cassia.” He rubbed his brow with his fingertips. “It's your mother.”

“Mama?” I began to shake all over. Something had happened to Mama?

Babbas reached for a dish towel and mopped his sweaty brow. “She . . . she . . .” He looked at Eva. “You tell her, Eva.”

My sister released a slow breath and then looked at me. “She ran away from home.”

“W-what?” I could hardly believe my ears. “Is this a joke?”

“No joke.” Eva shook her head. “She's gone. She's been gone for hours.”

“She left a note.” Babbas handed me a piece of paper filled top to bottom with Mama's beautiful handwriting.

I read it silently, taking in Mama's emotion. She had snapped, all right. And judging from this letter, she didn't plan to come back anytime soon.

“Oh, Babbas. She's just reacting to your manifesto this morning. She'll be back.”

“That manifesto . . .” He shook his head. “I wrote it in anger. But I will win her back. If I can find her.”

“No idea where she's gone?”

“I just pray she hasn't gone back to California.” His eyes misted over. “If she's left me to go back home—”

The front bell jangled, interrupting him. “Did someone say California?” a familiar voice rang out.

I turned at once, my heart sailing to my throat as I laid eyes on my cousin Athena and her husband Stephen.

Oh. Help.

Athena rushed my way, all smiles, and threw her arms around my neck. “It's so good to see all of you!” she squealed.

Yikes. Now what?

Athena and Stephen greeted the various family members one after another. Finally, when they'd made the rounds, Athena slid her Gucci purse off her shoulder, laid it on the table, and asked the question I'd secretly hoped to avoid.

“Where in the world is Aunt Helena? I've been dying to see her!”

You might be Greek if your family inheritance includes olive trees.

A
thena looked around the shop, then glanced my way. “I can't wait to hug Aunt Helena's neck! And to have a piece of her baklava.” She put her finger to her lips and then giggled. “Don't ever tell my mama I said this, but Aunt Helena's baklava is so much better.”

Babbas squared his shoulders at this exciting news. Still, how could we broach the subject of Mama's absence when we didn't even know where she was?

My father cleared his throat and shifted his position. “Your aunt Helena is out for a while,” he said after a moment or two. “But she'll be back.”

We hope
.

Athena smoothed the wrinkles on her trousers. “That's a bummer. I wanted to see her.” She gave me a little wink. “But a piece of her baklava will tide me over until I do.”

“I've got to taste this to believe it,” Stephen said. “Athena's been singing her aunt's praises all the way from L.A. to Texas.” He looked around our shop and nodded. “This is a nice location, Mr. Pappas. You've done a great job with it.”

Babbas stood even taller at this proclamation.

“Let's start with the baklava,” Athena said. “Then you can give us a tour.”

Eva went into the kitchen and came back with a large tray of baklava. Athena and Stephen tore into it like they might never get to eat again. Before long their eyes were rolling in delight.

“See?” Athena licked her sticky fingers as she looked at her husband. “Didn't I tell you?”

“Yeah.” He took another bite, then spoke around it. “I promise not to tell your parents, but you were right.”

Babbas led the way, showing them around the new shop. Athena oohed and aahed at all of the right times, which brought a smile—first one I'd seen in ages—to my father's face. I led her up to our little apartment and cringed as I tried to envision what it looked like through her eyes. Stephen followed on our heels, chatting easily with Darian and Filip.

“Oh, it's charming!” Athena glanced around the living room and then walked over to the sofa to sit down. “Your mama has done a nice job making it look . . . homey.”

That was one way to put it. I couldn't help but think that Mama would flip if she knew that Athena was here when the room hadn't been adequately tidied up.

We headed back down to the shop a few minutes later, and Babbas offered them food.

Athena shook her head and reached for her purse. “No Greek food for us this evening, Uncle Niko. Brock made us promise we would try something else instead.”

“Oh?” Babbas looked confused.

“Yes.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Brock said we have to start our vacation on Galveston Island with a visit to Parma John's pizzeria. He made me promise to have the Mambo Italiano special.”

Oh. No.

Babbas's smile faded, but to his credit, he didn't say a word. Not a word.

Athena looped her arm through mine. “We have so much catching up to do! You have to come with us.”

“Oh, I, uh—”

“You and Bella are friends, right?” Athena said. “I heard you practically work together.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. To my right, Babbas cleared his throat. Hopefully he wasn't gearing up for a tirade.

“I had a call from Brock just a few minutes ago.” Athena's face beamed with obvious delight. “He told me all about the new commercial idea that Bella came up with. It sounds wonderful, and I'm sure it's going to bring in business!”

Babbas's face lit into a smile. “Brock is going to do the commercial? You've arranged it?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “That's what I was just about to tell you when Athena got here. But Babbas,
Bella
is the one who arranged it. Not me and not Athena.”

“Bella . . . Rossi?” My father's eyes narrowed to slits. “She arranged for Brock to film a commercial for Super-Gyros?”

“Sort of.” I couldn't give him all the particulars. It was clear from the look on Athena's face that she knew the real story, but she didn't spill the beans, thank goodness.

“Brock is coming next week to film a commercial, yes,” Athena said. “But in the meantime, he insisted I go to Parma John's.” She gave my father a knowing look. “It's part of the deal, Uncle Niko. We play nice with the neighbors.”

My father grunted.

I was pretty sure that Mama—if we ever found her again—would burst into song at all of this.

“Now, who's coming with me?” Athena looked around the room.

Eva, Darian, Filip, and Gina all looked terrified . . . but intrigued.

“C-can we go?” Filip looked at Babbas and then at me.

“I'm going.” Eva pulled off her apron. “You're going.” She pointed at Darian. “We're all going.”

“But pizza is the devil's food.” A tear slipped down little Gina's cheek. “I can't eat the devil's food until Babbas is dead in the ground!”

“The devil's food?” Athena knelt down in front of her. “No, honey. Angels' food is more like it! Pizza is yummy, gooey goodness on a plate.” She took my little sister's hand as she rose. “We don't need to wait until anyone dies to eat it. We're all going to have some right now!”

Babbas grunted again.

“And we're going to send a text to Brock from Parma John's to let him know we're there. With a picture attached!” Athena went off on a tangent about how she'd better make sure Bella was in the picture. And Uncle Laz. And Aunt Rosa, who—according to Athena—was Brock's all-time favorite Rossi.

My father, God bless him, didn't say a word. I could almost hear the internal wrangling going on in that head of his. If he argued, he would lose Brock Benson. Still, this must be killing him, watching his family march directly into the enemy's camp in his presence. He begged off to the kitchen, muttering all the way.

We stood on the sidewalk in front of Super-Gyros moments later, facing Parma John's. Athena would never know the significance of that first step. I'd tell her sooner or later. With my cousin and her husband leading the way, we marched across the street and into Parma John's, heads held high.

I entered Parma John's to the sound of “Pennies from Heaven” playing through the sound system. From across the room, Jenna hollered out, “Welcome to Parma John's. Would you like to try our Tuesday special? One large pizza covered in sliced meatballs with four soft drinks for $24.98.” She looked up from the register and our eyes met. Her mouth rounded into an O as she took in the whole family.

Apparently seeing the whole Pappas family caused quite a stir among the Rossis. Bella rushed our way, a terrified look in her eyes. “Cassia? Did someone die?”

“Nope.”

“D-does your dad know you're all over here?”

“Yep.”

“Should we call in extra security?” She released a nervous laugh.

“We brought security along.” I pointed to Athena and Bella squealed.

“Oh, I know who you are!” She threw her arms around my cousin's neck and gave her a squeeze. “You're just like
Brock described you.” She looked back and forth between Athena and me. “Wow, you two could be twins. You look so much alike!”

No way. I'd always considered Athena to be my pretty cousin.

“Are Rosa and Laz here?” Athena looked around the restaurant. “Brock said I have to get to know them. I feel like I already do, like they're members of my own family. We watch
The Italian Kitchen
every week, don't we, Stephen?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “She makes me watch it.”

“I do not. You love that show!” This led to a playful argument between Athena and Stephen, who ended up admitting that he loved the show too.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Rosa is at home this evening. She, um, has a lot going on.” Bella gave me the oddest look, one I couldn't quite decipher. “Anyway, c'mon in, y'all.” She gestured to the restaurant's largest table. “You'll be our guests of honor. The pizza's on the house! And I'll send Uncle Laz over to get acquainted.”

Laz arrived at our table moments later and chatted with Athena, asking all sorts of questions about Brock and his wife Erin. I still couldn't get over the fact that the Rossis knew so much about my cousin and her job. Crazy.

Bella spent the next several minutes fussing over us and gushing about Athena's beautiful hair. But I could tell something wasn't quite right where she was concerned. Several times she looked at me out of the corner of her eye, and once she mouthed the words, “We. Need. To. Talk.” After placing our order, she leaned down to speak to me privately. “Cassia, can I steal you away for a minute?”

“Sure.” With the others engrossed in friendly chatter, they
would never miss me. I rose and followed her into the ladies' room. Odd place for a meeting.

She closed the door and leaned against the wall. “Oh. My. Gosh. I thought I was going to explode out there! I have something to tell you.”

“W-what is it?”

She glanced toward the door again, as if expecting to be interrupted at any moment. “It's about your”—her voice lowered to a whisper—“your mother.”

“Mama?” I swallowed hard and braced myself for whatever she had to say.

“Your mother is at my parents' house.”

My heart skipped a beat. “No way.”

“Yeah.” Bella nodded and gazed at me with greater intensity than before. “They put her up in the spare bedroom, and she plans to stay until further notice. This according to my mom, who called just before our meeting today. I should have told you then, but Mama said your mother hadn't even arrived yet, and she wasn't completely sure she would carry through with it. But obviously she did.”

“I just found out she was missing when I got home from your place,” I said. “Babbas was devastated. But when he finds out she's at your parents' place . . .” I paced the small bathroom, unsure of what to say next.

“From what I can gather, our mothers are really good friends.” Bella shrugged. “Who can blame them? They have a thousand things in common. And your mother seems to have connected with Aunt Rosa too. They're all very chummy.”

“Still . . .” Staying at the Rossi home? This would be the ultimate insult to Babbas.

“I stopped by my parents' place after our meeting this
afternoon, just to see if she'd shown up, and there she was,” Bella said. “She seemed a little embarrassed to be found out.”

No doubt.

“I think maybe she's trying to make a point with your father, but she doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. When I stopped by, Aunt Rosa had her in the kitchen cooking up a storm for the family. I ate some of her homemade tzatziki sauce. Man, that's good stuff.”

“Oh no.” Giving away family recipes? Babbas would have her head.

“She seems happy as a lark. And that really worries me.”

“Me too.” Mama? Happy, living with the enemy? Boy howdy, Babbas wouldn't be happy if he found out. I mean, he would be happy to find Mama, of course. Happy to know she hadn't fallen off the planet. But the whole part about cooking with the Rossis? Ouch!

“So what do we do?” I leaned against the counter, ready to admit defeat.

“It's more complicated than you know. They're hiding her from Uncle Laz. That's why he's here and Aunt Rosa's there. They're going to make sure your mama is in the guest room with the door closed before he gets home.” She sighed. “As competitive as your father is, Uncle Laz is even more so. You know? This is such a dilemma.”

“Especially with Athena here.” I shook my head. “I'm guessing Mama forgot we had family coming today.”

“Likely. Seems like she has a lot on her mind.”

“You have no idea.”

Bella checked her reflection in the mirror, then looked my way. “Well, let's go back out there and act like nothing's wrong. I don't want to ruin Athena's good time, and you
need time to process all of this. We can talk after. I just . . . well, I just wanted you to know.”

I gave Bella a hug and thanked her for telling me about my mother, though I still couldn't process it. After sucking in a deep breath and ushering up a prayer for God's miraculous intervention, I headed back out to the table. I somehow made it through our meal and then hugged Athena and Stephen before they left for their hotel. At this point I had two choices: I could go home with my siblings or take Bella up on her offer to go to the Rossi home to check in on Mama. I chose the latter.

Eva gave me a curious look when I told her I wasn't ready to go home yet. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“I'll let you know,” I whispered. “You just make sure Babbas doesn't kill any of the little ones before I get home, okay?”

“Oh, sure. Leave me to deal with him while you run away from home like Mama!” Eva spit out a nervous laugh.

I wasn't running away. Well, not for long.

Bella drove me to her parents' home. When we arrived I got out of the car, my heart as heavy as lead. My stomach felt nearly as heavy, what with all the pizza I'd eaten.

We walked inside the grand old home, and I took in the stately foyer with its wooden floors and high ceilings. Wow. But I couldn't get distracted by the Rossi lifestyle. Not yet, anyway.

Off in the distance voices rang out, followed by laughter.

“Sounds like they're still in the kitchen.” Bella put her purse down on a little table in the entryway. “Not unusual around here, by the way. Our family sometimes spends all day in the kitchen.”

“Technically ours does too.” I forced a smile.

I could hear peals of laughter emanating from the other room, but I wasn't prepared for the look of pure joy on my mother's face when I saw her standing in the Rossi kitchen, wearing an apron that read, “Kiss me, I'm Italian!”