"This is a great place," he said, looking around. "Great work on the renovation, first of all. This place has been almost a ruin since I can remember." She rolled her eyes as his gaze locked on her brick oven. "Wood fire?" he asked. She nodded. She had it lit; it took a while to get up to the temperature she needed for baking and pizzas.
"Lisa sends me prunings from her orchard," she said.
"That sounds fabulous. Wonder if she still has any? Fruitwood has excellent flavor. If not, my parents have some nut trees." He shook his head as if realizing that his nerves had gotten the better of him and he was starting to babble.
"When I saw the sign when I got to town," he said, "I wondered if this was your place. I decided it was too much of a coincidence. I should have trusted my instincts."
"Let's not discuss instincts, shall we? I have a lot to do to get ready to open, Pablo." She turned the dough and he looked at her hands, wincing.
"What did I ever do to you?" he asked. "I thought we had something special and the next thing I know you turn on me, won't take my calls, and obviously can't stand me."
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't have to be Freud to figure out the symbolism of what you're going to that dough. Either you're mugging it for its lunch money or it's a surrogate for me."
Adrianna sighed; she couldn't dodge this any more. She had avoided him more because she was afraid of her own temper than anything he'd actually done.
"I don't think it was a specific event, per se," she said, "although the "Cindy was here" with little hash marks on your headboard really didn't help."
"Adrianna, I told you repeatedly that it wasn't about scoring with you. And she carved that. A very long time ago. When do things stop counting?"
"It shouldn't have been about "scoring" with anyone. Anyway, why would you still have it there? Sandpaper isn't all that expensive. Or was it supposed to impress me? Was Cindy still a regular? Should I have added my own autograph to the scoreboard Was it a competition?" She wrestled the dough on the board, picking it up, slamming it down; punching it. Now Pablo was angry.
"Funny you should say that, since I know your brother." Adrianna glared at him, daring him to go on. To his credit, he did. "I've talked to him since I've been home, Adrianna. Here's something to remember. Even rogues fall in love." He turned and stalked out. Adrianna stared after him, holding the ruined dough until she heard the door close. Then she threw it against the wall with all of her might. It stuck for a moment, then slowly slid down the wall as Adrianna's legs slowly lowered her, sobbing, to the floor.
When did he get do into cooking? I heard he flunked out of college, but cooking school? I guess being a chef would tie together the two things he always liked most -- breaking hearts and fire.
She'd done it again. Pablo dashed at his eyes impatiently. Adrianna DiSanti was the only woman who had ever been able to make him cry. He hoped she hadn't seen it or heard it in his voice.
He'd noticed her right away on the first day of culinary school. Most of the women looked so regimented in their whites; Adrianna found a way to make them look alluring. She was alluring, with her long, thick dark hair. Her eyes were what clinched it for him -- very light brown, almost golden, eyes. She'd told him that her father was Italian and her mother was of Gypsy stock. She definitely resembled her mother's Romany side of the family. The wild Gypsy Adrianna intrigued him, and he worked to persuade her to date him. He hesitated when he found out she was Fabian DiSanti's sister, but by then he had fallen for her, and a lot deeper than he thought he could. There was no turning back. There still wasn't.
She had mentioned sand paper -- if he could go back in time and use it, he would. He would erase the silly inside joke that an ex-girlfriend had marked on his bed. He'd actually forgotten about it until he'd managed to persuade Adrianna to come home with him after a date. Before he'd had a chance to dim the lights, she must have seen it. Because she'd left without a word.
No, I don't think that Shelly is working at the hospital in Oxbow permanently. She'd just been on loan to them for a few weeks. She's back now -- I think she's on cardiac rehab.
"Hey! Welcome home!" Fabian gave his brother a careful hug. Franco smiled.
"Well, what serves as home for now, anyway," he said. Fatima DiSanti came in and led Franco back to the couch.
"You stop that," she instructed, wrapping an afghan around him.
"Mom, I told you. I will stay until I'm well, but I fully intend to get a job and place of my own as soon as I'm strong enough." Fatima snorted and went out to the kitchen. Franco sighed.
"I don't think she believes me," he said, "and I suppose with good reason. Funny, all those years I spent making excuses not to get a job and mooching off of Mom and Dad ... now that I have a real reason, I can't wait to get out and work."
"I might be able to help you with that." Fabian took a seat in an armchair close to the couch.
"Really? Fabian, I couldn't. I owe you too much already." Fabian waved a hand, brushing that aside.
"You're my brother. And my twin. Lisa told me that one of the diner customers has expressed an interest in talking to you. He's an accountant."
"Lisa was asking around for me?"
"She doesn't hate you, Franco." Fabian reached over and touched his brother's forearm. "She just didn't like you the way you wanted her to. And she cares about you. That's Lisa."
"I know," Franco said with a sigh.
"I'm sorry." Fabian loved Lisa and knew she loved him, but at the same time he felt bad that Franco hadn't won the lady. Even if it had been for all of the wrong reasons.
"No -- don't be," Franco said. "I have someone else." Franco looked down and squirmed a little, embarrassed. Fabian laughed delightedly.
"Do tell!" he said.
"That really pretty blonde nurse? Shelly Lange?"
"The one who identified you and helped us find you?"
Franco nodded.
"We've been ... talking." Franco actually blushed with a shy smile. Fabian left out another delighted laugh.
"That's great! So it isn't going to bother you that Lisa and I are getting married?"
"No! Of course not! I'm over her, Fabian. You were right -- it was the pies, not Lisa herself. She's really good for you. A lot has changed in the way I think since my accident. Can we all just put that behind us? She doesn't have to be afraid to come and see me."
"Absolutely we'll put it behind us, and she's not afraid to come and see you, Franc. She lost her grandmother a few weeks ago, so she's been a bit overwhelmed. She just went back to work today."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Franco was horrified. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"You had enough to think about, getting well enough to come home. Or home at the moment." He smiled and winked at his brother. "Now that you're here, we'll be better about keeping you in the loop. And maybe when you're feeling better and she's recovered somewhat, we'll have a double-date or two."