Burned to a Crisp (Cookies & Chance Mysteries Book 3) Page 2

  My heart went out to her, and I placed an arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry. I wish you'd said something before." Julie had been in my shop on numerous occasions and was another one who loved the fortune cookies.

  Sarah shrugged. "I didn't want you to think I was a problem employee."

  A thought occurred to me. "Maybe I could take her overnight next weekend and give you some free time? I'd love to have her. We could go out for pizza and then watch movies together. It would be so much fun."

  Josie looked at me like I was nuts but said nothing.

  Sarah smiled. "That's so sweet of you, Sally. I'm sure she'd love it."

  Josie pointed toward the door and gave me a look that said Go—I've got this. She put an arm around Sarah's thin shoulders. I felt terrible. My life was overflowing with happiness while this poor woman had almost none. Maybe if I gave her another raise that would help.

  "Come on, Sarah," Josie said. "I'll help you clean and lock up. Sal really needs to leave." She shooed me toward the door. "I brought a change of clothes with me, so I'll head over afterwards. Rob's going to meet me at the restaurant."

  A sudden thought crossed my mind. "Sarah, you're invited to the party too, you know. After you close up, please come meet us at the restaurant."

  She wiped her eyes with her apron. "I—oh, Sally, I didn't expect an invitation. Honest."

  "I'd really like you to be there. Please bring Julie too."

  She reached out and grabbed me in such a tight hug I couldn't breathe. "I'd be honored to come, but I need to see how Julie's feeling first since she's had a bad cold the last couple of days. Thanks for thinking of us."

  "Give her a hug from me." I waved at them both and hurried out the door. I climbed into the passenger side of Mike's truck. As I reached for the seat belt, he grabbed me and crushed me to him, placing his mouth over mine.

  When we finally broke apart, I was breathless. "Hmm. Maybe we should skip the party."

  He laughed. "I've been thinking about kissing you all day. I was tempted to do it in front of Mrs. Gavelli but figured I'd give the old lady a heart attack." He controlled the truck with his left hand, his right one stroking mine. "Any chance we've got a few extra minutes for alone time before the party?"

  "Maybe a couple. We're running on a tight schedule, as usual," I said glumly. For the last few days, I hadn't seen much of my fiancé. Mike was busy trying to finish up a long list of jobs customers wanted completed before he took time off for the wedding and our honeymoon. Josie and I had been swamped at the bakery and were putting in overtime with special orders for graduation parties, baby showers, and weddings. "Maybe I should tell my mother we can't make it. I think I just caught the flu."

  Mike stopped for a red light and turned to look at me, his beautiful eyes startled in his tanned, rugged face. "Babe, you have to go. I mean—your mother has put so much work into this."

  I sighed. "I didn't even want a big wedding. I had that once before, and it ended in disaster. And now we're having an engagement party just weeks before we get married—who even does that? Only my kooky mother."

  He watched me closely. "Sal, what's bugging you?"

  "Let's pack a bag and fly to Vegas like we planned months ago. Or go see the nearest justice of the peace tomorrow. We've got the license. I want to be married to you now. No more waiting. We can still go through with the original wedding—we just won't tell anyone we're already married."

  Mike laughed as he pulled into the driveway of the small yellow ranch house he owned, a ten-minute drive from my bakery. The house had belonged to his mother until she had succumbed to cirrhosis a couple of years ago.

  He turned and placed his arms around my waist. "Please tell me you're not letting that stupid message get to you?"

  "Of course not," I lied. Mike, like Josie, knew of my anxiety over the cookies. "I just don't want to wait anymore. We've waited long enough. Ten years is a long time."

  He was silent as he pushed the hair back from my face, his expression thoughtful. "It's not a bad idea, but it does seem kind of unfair to your mother when she's devoted so much time to this. Besides…" He smiled as if teasing me. "I'm looking forward to showing you off to the world. I want to let everyone know you're mine. Forever."

  The love in his eyes reflected my own. My eyes started to fill as I cradled his face in my hands. "I'll always be yours. Nothing will ever change that."

  He kissed the tip of my nose. "Your mother would be crushed if she found out we got married before the actual wedding. And your grandmother would know. Don't ask me how, but she would know."

  I sighed. He was right, of course. "Okay, forget that idea." I reached for the door handle and let myself out of the truck. "It was crazy anyway."

  Mike unlocked the front door and stepped back, allowing me entrance first. "Nothing is going to happen, baby. We've had our share of bad luck and then some. What could possibly go wrong now?"

  CHAPTER TWO

  Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and a few stolen moments of intimate time, we were on our way to Mama Lena's, the location my mother had chosen for our engagement party. Since no one could even attempt to match my grandmother in Italian-style cuisine, we'd decided on a buffet with a variety of different dishes from this popular family restaurant.

  Technically, Mike and I had been engaged since last January when I, as he liked to teasingly remind me, had proposed to him. We'd celebrated that night with champagne and romance and planned to fly off to Vegas a few days later. The next morning, my father, Domenic Muccio, had suffered a minor stroke. My mother, beside herself with worry, had made me promise that day at the hospital that I'd let her throw me the big wedding I so rightly deserved. Feeling guilty about my father's condition, I had relented. Those kind of preparations took time, especially with my mother planning them. Why she was throwing me an engagement party now, five months after the fact, was a complete mystery.

  "I'm surprised Mrs. Gavelli didn't make a snide comment about holding the party so close to the wedding," I said and stepped out of the truck. I noticed my parents' car and Gianna's Ford Fiesta parked nearby.

  "Hmm," Mike said as he opened the door of the restaurant for me.

  I had turned twenty-nine years old yesterday, and it was the happiest birthday I could remember. The last year had been a tumultuous whirlwind with my divorce, a murder investigation when a high school nemesis had dropped dead on the front porch of my bakery, and the death of my cheating ex-husband. But I had survived and was a stronger and more confident person because of it. I could handle anything life threw at me with my true love by my side.

  I glanced sideways at him suspiciously as we walked down the red-carpeted hall to the private dining room where the party was being held. "What's up? You're awfully quiet."

  Mike grinned but said nothing. He opened the double doors to the room and gave me a gentle push forward. I was met with a chorus of "Surprise!"

  I stood in the doorway for a moment, thoroughly confused and unable to say anything. My parents, Grandma Rosa, Gianna, Mrs. Gavelli, Josie and her husband, plus a few other friends were gathered. Pink balloons and streamers decorated the room. In one corner, there was a table piled high with envelopes, gift-wrapped presents, and a two-tier birthday cake decorated in pink and white icing that read Happy 29th Birthday, Sally.

  Dumbfounded, I stared at my fiancé. "You tricked me."

  He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Happy Birthday, princess. It's a day late, but we knew you'd never fall for an engagement party on your actual birthday."

  "Happy birthday, sweetie!" My mother, Maria Muccio, threw her arms around me. As usual, she was dressed conspicuously in a bright red sundress, cut low in the front and back and barely covering her rear. She had paired the dress with four-inch, matching stiletto heels that accented her sensational-looking legs.

  "Don't bend over, Mom," I whispered in her ear.

  She giggled and bussed my cheek. "Wasn't it smart of me to have a twenty-ninth birthday f
or you? I'll bet you don't know why I picked this year to do it."

  "I give up. Why?"

  She straightened the collar on my white silk blouse. "Because now when people ask your age, you can always tell them, 'I had a 29th birthday party recently.' You can keep that charade up for at least another ten years!"

  I sighed. "Mom, your philosophy never ceases to amaze me."

  She gave Mike a hug. "I tell everyone I'm only thirty-nine. And you know what? They believe it."

  I was certain they did. Mom had a perfect size four figure and rich, dark hair the same shade as mine but not quite as curly. Paired with soft brown eyes, a small nose, and teeth she whitened religiously, my mother looked better than me most days.

  My father, sixty-six years old, stout, and balding, came over and put an arm around her. He kissed me on the cheek and grunted a greeting at Mike. My father didn't have anything against Mike personally. He was just old-school and convinced there wasn't a man alive good enough for either of his daughters.

  "Come on, bella donna," he said. "Everyone's waiting for you to grab a plate so we can start eating. I can't wait to dig in to those baby back ribs myself. Your grandmother never makes good stuff like that."

  Grandma Rosa gave him the evil eye and put her forefinger to the side of her white head in a circular motion. "Crazy fool. The doctor said they are not good for you. More salad and vegetables is what you need."

  "Hogwash," my father growled. "I stopped going to Denny's. What more does he want."

  Grandma Rosa sniffed. "Lies. You were at Denny's yesterday." She looked at Mike and me. "That man is full of salami."

  My father cut his eyes toward her and frowned, a confused expression on his round face. I placed a hand on Grandma Rosa's shoulder. "You mean bologna."

  She nodded in approval. "That works too."

  I looked up to see Josie standing on a chair, clinking a spoon against the side of a wine glass. "Attention, everyone!"

  The thirty or so people in the room stopped talking and turned to stare at her.

  Josie's gaze met mine, and she smiled. "I'd like to make a toast to Sal. I just want to say how lucky I am to have had a friend like you for over twenty years. Thank you so much for giving me a job that I enjoy waking up for every day."

  She wiped away a tear while her husband Rob helped her down from the chair and placed an arm around her shoulders. He was a good-looking guy, over six feet tall with brown hair in a buzz cut and a matching well-trimmed beard.

  "I'm so happy for you and Mike," Josie continued. "I've always known that you were meant to be together. Jeez, I don't know of two people more in love."

  "Ahem." Rob cleared his throat.

  She gave him a playful nudge in the side with her elbow. "Oh, get over yourself. Romance died after the first kid, babe."

  Everyone laughed as Josie raised her glass again to us. "I have a feeling you two will find out about that very soon."

  Oh, good grief. I stole a sideways glance at my father who was smiling broadly, his arm around my mother's tiny waist. I was afraid he'd misunderstand Josie's words and think I was already pregnant. I didn't want to be the reason for another stroke.

  "Love you, Sal." Josie grinned as she made her way over to us. I reached out and enveloped her in a tight hug, unable to speak for a moment, while everyone clapped.

  When the noise had subsided, my mother spoke up. "All right everyone, I have some news to announce. In fact, the Muccio family has quite a lot to celebrate these days. First off, my beautiful Gianna won her first court case today."

  Everyone clapped again while Gianna stared at my mother, openmouthed, her jaw close to hitting the floor. My baby sister was my pride and joy, both beautiful and brilliant. As a public defender, she'd just landed her first case, and it had been huge. Gianna had defended a local man, who was rumored to have ties to the mob, on racketeering charges. A mistrial had been deemed earlier today.

  Gianna's cheeks flushed pink with agitation and embarrassment. "Um, Mom, I didn't win. They—"

  Mom ignored Gianna's comment and prattled on, announcing to everyone that Gianna got both her looks and her brains from her mother's side of the family, which made everyone laugh. I locked eyes with my sister, and she scowled at me. I understood her annoyance. Technically, Gianna had not won the case. She was waiting to hear if and when her client would be retried. We both loved our mother dearly, but she tended to present the facts in a way that suited her, whether they were true or not.

  My mother beamed with pride. "And last but not least, I won the local Hotties Over Fifty pageant last week. What that means is now I'll be competing for a modeling contract and a trip to Hawaii in the statewide Foxes over Fifty contest, which starts in a couple of days!"

  Everyone whistled and cheered appreciatively again.

  My father grinned and lowered his hand from my mother's waist to her behind. He nodded at Mrs. Gavelli, who stood to his left side with Johnny. "This caboose won first prize."

  Mrs. Gavelli grabbed Johnny's arm and moved away from my father in disgust.

  Even over the laughter, I could hear Gianna gasp out loud. She hated my parents' public—and frequent—displays of affection. As much as I adored them, I had to admit they were tough to take sometimes.

  Grandma Rosa sighed and shook her head. "May the good Lord help us all."

  Everyone clapped again politely while my mother giggled and held up an 8 x 10-inch, framed photograph of her in a yellow bikini that brought to mind the old song "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini." I averted my gaze in embarrassment, as did Gianna, her face scarlet and probably mirroring my own.

  Mike bowed his head and traced a pattern on the floor with his foot, attempting to hide his smile. My family had always been a source of amusement to him. Maybe he figured a whacky family was better than no family at all since he'd grown up with a drunken mother and abusive stepfather. I guessed we looked pretty tame when compared to what he'd endured.

  "Okay, everyone, time to chow down," my mother giggled. "Please help yourselves."

  Everyone formed a line behind me for the buffet. Still in shock and not especially hungry, I looked around at the covered hot trays, trying to decide what to get. Sitting down with an empty plate was a sign of disrespect in our family. I would have preferred my grandmother's homemade braciole but didn't say so for fear of hurting my mother's feelings. I settled on a slice of prime rib, mashed potatoes, and salad. My mother directed me to the center seat at an oblong table that had a balloon tied to it which read Birthday Girl. Jeez, was I five years old again?

  Mike sat down to my right and reached for my hand, pressing it to his lips. "In a few weeks we'll be seated like this at our wedding, babe." He started to eat. "By the way, you'll get my present when we get home later."

  I waved my wrist at him. Fastened around it was a gorgeous heart-shaped Tiffany bracelet he'd given me last night. "This was more than enough. Please tell me you didn't spend any extra money on me."

  His smile was wicked as he leaned closer, his lips pressed against my ear. "I wasn't talking about that type of gift."

  Heat flashed through my body as I understood his intended meaning. "You're naughty, Mr. Donovan."

  "We haven't had any time alone all week," Mike complained as he cut into his meat. "We've got a lot of making up to do. I say let's blow this party early."

  "Eat up," I teased. "You'll need to save your strength for later."

  He roared with laughter as Gianna sat down to my left. I hadn't seen her in a few days, and she appeared to have lost weight. People always commented on the fact that we looked like twins, but I was never convinced. Gianna's rich chestnut hair was lighter than mine and enveloped her shoulders in perfect waves. Her face, although beautiful, was drawn and tired.

  I leaned closer to her. "You're not still mad at Mom, are you?"

  She pressed her lips together tightly. "Is it too much to ask that we could have a normal mother—or, shall I dare say, normal parents? Grandm
a is the only one who is completely sane."

  "Not including me, I hope," I teased.

  Gianna grimaced as she dug into her potatoes. The past few weeks had been rough for my sister. Her boyfriend of two years, Frank Taylor, had decided he'd had enough of playing second fiddle to what he called Gianna's "unnatural fascination with the law." They'd gone their separate ways, and now there was this whole incident with the mistrial that she had to deal with.

  What my mother had failed to tell everyone was that an enamored juror had asked Gianna out on a date. She'd had no choice but to report the incident. The juror was dismissed, a mistrial called, and now my poor sister was left feeling humiliated after details had leaked out to the press.

  "Hey." I touched her arm. "There's something else going on with you. Let's have it."

  Gianna glanced around the room, but everyone else was busy eating, talking, or milling about. No one paid us much attention. She leaned closer. "I don't want to defend this guy again, Sal, and it's a pretty safe bet he's going to be retried. Bernardo's a total sleaze. I don't mean to sound unprofessional about this, but for now the trial is over, and I know I can trust you not to say anything. Frankly, I'm not convinced of his innocence."

  "How did you wind up with him anyway?" I asked. "You're a public defender, and his family has oodles of money."

  Bernardo Napoli, the man Gianna had represented in court, came from a prominent Italian family in Colwestern. His stepfather, Luigi, owned and operated Napoli Furnishings. It was a large, red-brick building where you could buy anything from a porcelain soap dish to a gold-plated dining room set. Most people in Colwestern knew the place was just a cover-up for mob operations, but no one dared to blow the whistle for fear of reprisal.

  "His stepfather has all the money," Gianna explained. "Bernardo doesn't have any assets in his name. Even if he did, he probably still would have gotten a public defender since that's pretty much the way it works in this state. He was very pleased when they told him I'd be representing him. I've no idea why since this is my first case, and I'm more than a little green."