Мишель Дуглас - The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo

Her stomach clenched and roiled, although it touched her that he’d remembered. Last night had been an unmitigated disaster and—

‘Neen?’

She shook herself and did what she could to inject humour into her voice. ‘Given the week I’ve had, it went exactly as expected.’

Utterly, utterly dreadfully.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He was silent for several seconds. ‘Still, the week hasn’t been a complete loss. Don’t forget you did score an interesting job.’

Her lips lifted. ‘There is that,’ she agreed, before they rang off.

An ‘interesting job’, huh?

She sighed and poured herself another cup of tea. Time would tell, and even if it did prove true it didn’t make up for not being able to follow her heart’s desire and open her own café.

You didn’t apply for the job as consolation. You applied to stop yourself from moping and twiddling your fingers.

She pressed her hands together tightly. Hopefully soon enough she could put all her dreams into action. She stared up at the sky. ‘Fingers crossed, Grandad,’ she whispered.

* * *

‘We’ve been given these premises on a two-year lease for practically peanuts,’ Rico said as he unlocked the door to the Battery Point property.

‘How on earth did you manage that here?’ Neen breathed. ‘It’s almost waterfront, and just a couple of streets away from Salamanca Markets.’ She glanced up and down the street. ‘The rents around here are outrageous!’ She knew because she’d checked.

Rico just shrugged.

The man was a miracle worker. ‘You called in a favour, right?’ If he weren’t careful, he’d run out of those.

‘The owner of this property is the manager of a local dairy farm. I’ve promised him a lot of advertising—on the flyers announcing the café’s opening as well as on the menus.’

‘Good PR.’

Rico switched on the lights. ‘That’s what he thought.’

Neen took in the size of the generous front room, with its two lovely bay windows overlooking the street. It was a pity it didn’t have water views, although she supposed if it had he could have kissed his cheap rent goodbye.

‘Obviously I said we’d do whatever maintenance was necessary.’

There was certainly a lot of cleaning up to do.

‘What do you think?’

‘I think we can make this look charming. All it needs is a lick of paint and some elbow grease.’ She stepped back. ‘It looks as if we could seat sixty in here comfortably.’

‘That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Come and check out the kitchen.’

She trailed a hand across the wooden counter and display case that ran the length of the back wall. She could imagine it polished and gleaming, housing a vast array of cakes and slices to tempt and delight. A smile built inside her. That cabinet was perfect. She couldn’t have chosen better for her dream café, and—

She straightened, shook herself and followed Rico through to the kitchen.

It was smaller than she’d hoped. ‘Have you had an occupational health and safety check completed yet?’

‘Not yet, why?’ he barked, spinning around. ‘Do you see any potential problems?’

She pointed. ‘Exposed wiring there, there and there...and that power point looks like a fire hazard.’

He swore.

‘I’m not feeling particularly confident about the safety of that ceiling fan either.’

He glared at the ceiling.

‘Still, the ovens look as if they’ll be okay once they’re cleaned up.’ She opened a cupboard door and grimaced as a cockroach scuttled away. ‘It’s far too dark in here, and that’s going to be a real issue. We’ll need strip lighting all the way along here. We need to see properly. I can’t risk anyone’s safety around hot stoves and sharp knives. I wouldn’t risk fully-trained, experienced staff, let alone novices.’

‘The boys will learn!’

‘Of course they will.’ She wiped a finger along a bench and inspected her finger with a grimace. ‘But they’ll learn much quicker and more safely with proper lighting.’

He blew out a breath. ‘That’ll cost a fortune.’

She eased back and folded her arms. ‘Did you ask me here for my honest opinion or to pat you on the back and tell you what a fabulous job you’re doing?’

He stuck out his jaw and glared. She could see that behind the glare he was frantically calculating the budget he had to work with. ‘That peanut rent suddenly makes a lot of sense,’ he growled.

‘How much are you paying?’

He told her and she shrugged. ‘We’re smack-bang in the middle of Hobart’s tourist hub. You’re still getting a great deal.’

He didn’t say anything. She wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.

‘What’s out that way?’

He shook himself. ‘Storeroom, staff bathroom and the back door.’

He led the way, throwing open the storeroom door as he passed. Something furry brushed past her ankles. She let out a little scream.

Rico swung to her. ‘Wha—?’

‘Out the back door. Now!’

She pushed him all the way out into the cement courtyard, then stamped her feet up and down three times and shuddered twice. ‘Yuck!’

Rico stared at her as if she’d lost her senses. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

She stabbed a finger at him. ‘I can deal with mice, and I’m even prepared to take a shoe to a cockroach, but I absolutely and utterly draw the line at rats!’

His face darkened. ‘There aren’t any rats.’

‘Oh, no?’ She pointed behind him. ‘Then what do you call that thing creeping down the back steps?’

CHAPTER THREE

RICO SWORE ONCE, violently. The rodent scuttled down the steps and slunk behind some garbage bins.

A rat. A goddamn rat! The Health Department would have a field day with that. For a moment his vision of a thriving chain of charity cafés blurred and threatened to slip out of reach. Unless...

He glanced at Neen. Unless he could convince her to keep her pretty mouth shut about the incident. Unless he could—

He broke off his thoughts to drag a hand down his face. What on earth was he thinking? He couldn’t put the public’s health at risk like that. Besides, that kind of scandal would scupper all his plans. But...

His head dropped. His shoulders sagged. He was so darn tired of fighting for every allowance, for every penny of government money, for every—

He stiffened. Get over yourself, D’Angelo! You have nothing to complain about.

All-too-familiar bile filled his mouth. He lifted his head and pushed his shoulders back to find Neen surveying him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

His gut clenched. Then a car backfired and she jumped and whirled around. She turned back, patting her chest. ‘Rodents make me jumpy,’ she said with a weak smile.

His lip curled. Rodents of the ex-boyfriend variety.

‘Are you up to date on your tetanus shots?’

That threw him. ‘Yes.’

She pointed at the door. ‘Then you can go back through there, switch off the lights and lock up. I’ll meet you out the front.’ She headed for the gate. ‘Oh, and grab my handbag, please? It’s on the counter in the kitchen.’

And then she disappeared.

Scowling, he did as she’d asked and met her on the footpath in front of the café. He handed over her handbag and tried to think of something encouraging to say but couldn’t think of a single thing. Her eyes were too bright, too perceptive. She’d witnessed his moment of despair and it didn’t matter how much he wished she hadn’t. It was too late now—he didn’t have the energy to make light of rats or cockroaches or dodgy wiring.

He went to unlock the car, but she shook her head and took his arm. ‘C’mon.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘We’re having an emergency meeting.’