Susan Mallery - The Sparkling One

“Sure.”

“They’re engaged. He and his father have joined us for dinner, and we’re doing the celebration thing.”

“Wow! That’s great. So why is that good for you?”

They stepped into the dining room. A table that seated twenty filled the center of the room. Two hutches lined one adobe wall, while a long buffet sat against another. Two wrought-iron chandeliers illuminated the sparkling crystal and elegant china. Katie sat on an extra chair pushed under the high window.

“God is punishing me,” she said, and told Brenna about her attempt not to be bugged about her current boyfriend-free status.

Brenna covered her mouth to hold back hysterical laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Katie told her.

“Sorry, but it is. Something like that would only happen to you. So how bad was it? Did the Grands completely humiliate you when he walked in?”

“Absolutely.”

Brenna sank down next to her. “Oh, Katie. I’m sorry.”

Katie glared at her sister. “Yeah. Sorry you missed the show.”

“Well, that, too.” Brenna touched her arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Shoot me now.”

Francesca came into the dining room. “So you two are hiding out here? What did I miss?”

Brenna rose and hugged her twin. “Katie was telling me about her recent humiliation. I think it’s pretty funny.”

“Ha ha,” Katie said glumly.

Francesca shrugged. “So he knows you think he’s hot. What’s the big deal?”

Katie couldn’t believe she was even asking. “I have to work with the man.”

“He’ll pay more attention to your legs than what you say. What’s your point?”

“That he isn’t the least bit interested in my legs. Which makes all this not just humiliating, but also pathetic.”

“Oh, I’m willing to bet he was interested.” Brenna sat back down and took Katie’s hand in hers. “I think you should sleep with him.”

Katie stared at her. “What?”

“Sleep? Have sex? Get laid? It can’t have been so long that you’ve forgotten the word.”

“I know what you meant, I just can’t believe you’re saying it. Zach is not a nice man. He’s shallow and superficial.”

“Technically, those two characteristics are the same,” Francesca said helpfully. “And perfect qualities for a one-night stand. Besides, you don’t know him well enough to be sure.”

Katie glared at her, then returned her attention to Brenna. “Why would you suggest that?”

“Because you obviously want to. Katie, you’ve been a good girl all your life. We all have. Maybe it’s time to be bad.”

Katie pulled her hand free. “I don’t think so. If my punishment for one little lie was that swift and severe, I’d hate to think what would happen if I actually did something wrong.”

“If Zach is everything you say, maybe it would be worth it.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Katie told Brenna. “Your brain fell out of your head while you were sleeping.”

Francesca stretched. “Don’t dismiss Brenna’s suggestion. Zach may not give you the happily-ever-after romance you’re looking for, but he’d be good for some hot, quickie sex. Brenna’s married and I don’t date, so it’s up to you to provide us all with the vicarious thrill.”

“That is not possible. For one thing, he’s a new client. The job is huge and could easily take my company to the next level. I’m not going to mess with that. For another-in case you’ve forgotten-his son is marrying our sister. That makes him an in-law. I can hardly spend the next forty years sitting across from him at Christmas and Thanksgiving, knowing we’ve seen each other naked.”

“But-”

Francesca started to protest, but Katie cut her off with a flick of her wrist.

“It’s like a double yellow line,” Katie said.

Brenna and Francesca looked first at each other, then at her. “Want to explain that?” Brenna asked.

“Sure. You can cross one yellow line, no problem. But if you cross two, things get ugly.”

Francesca grinned. “Katie, honey, we’re talking about sex, not a moving violation.”

Katie wanted to pound their heads together. Fortunately she was saved from coming up with a response by Brenna’s groan. “Geez, Francesca, do you have to be so damn skinny? You’ve lost more weight, haven’t you? Let me guess. You’ve been so busy, you’ve forgotten to eat.”

“It happens,” Francesca said, sounding only a little defensive.

“Not to me.” Brenna poked at her own thigh. “I can honestly say that I’ve never missed a meal by being too busy. There’s always time for pasta. It’s these Italian genes. Every mouthful heads directly south of my waist. Why couldn’t I take after Grammy M like you?”

Katie studied her sisters. Francesca was taller, slimmer than her twin, with small bones and lighter eyes. Brenna took after Grandma Tessa and Grandpa Lorenzo. Large bones filled out her five-foot, seven-inch frame. She had thick dark hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. Despite her Irish name, she appeared to be all Italian.

“Stop whining,” Katie said. “You’re both pretty.”

“Yeah, and I outweigh my taller twin by nearly thirty-five pounds,” Brenna said. “You’re tiny, too. I hate you both.”

The sound of footsteps in the hallway broke up the conversation. Their father and Grandpa Lorenzo entered with Zach, Mia, and David. Katie introduced Brenna and Francesca, then wished she could excuse herself to the other side of the planet. But no. Seconds later Grammy M was urging everyone to their seats. And just as she’d promised, she put Katie directly across from Zach so her oldest granddaughter could spend the entire meal reliving the humiliation.

Dinner with the Marcelli family was like a scene out of a Merchant Ivory film, Zach thought nearly an hour later. A beautiful setting filled with charming, interesting, slightly odd characters in nice clothes, all accompanied by classical opera in the background. He had a sudden yearning to go find a Starbucks and take a call on his cell phone.

They were a party of eleven at a table built for a much larger group, so there was plenty of space between each place setting. Dozens of dishes lined the center of the table-each filled with something more delicious than the next. He hadn’t known there were that many ways to serve pasta. And even better than the food was the wine.

He took another drink, appreciating the fullness of the Cabernet, the rich middle and mellow finish. The family served their own private blend. The handwritten label contained notes about year of harvest, location in the vineyard, the type of barrel, and how long it had been aged.

Lorenzo Marcelli noticed Zach’s interest.

“We make a few cases the old-fashioned way,” the patriarch of the family explained, raising his voice to be heard from his seat at the head of the table. “They’re pressed separately from the main harvest and then aged. This is for family.”

Mia, sitting next to Zach, giggled. “Grandpa means that someone stomped the grapes with his feet.”

Brenna smiled at her sister. “Mia’s not into the process-only the product. Crushing the grapes by hand…or by foot, as it were…is a more delicate way to achieve the end result. Less juice is extracted from the grapes. Most harvests are pressed by massive machines that can crush a grape to sawdust. We don’t go to that level, but for our commercial wines the old ways are too expensive and slow.”

Lorenzo turned to Brenna. “You remember.”

She sighed. “I still love the grapes, Grandpa.”

“Then why aren’t you here? Working with me? Of all your sisters you’re the only one with the passion for what we do.”

“I have to be in L.A. You know that. Jeff’s medical training was there and now his practice is. I’m married. My place is with my husband. Haven’t you always taught us that?”