Annie O'Neil - Tempted By The Bridesmaid

“Well, even if her uncle is a big, hairy-eared ogre, I can’t wait. Nothing beats matching the right pooch to the right patient.” Fran couldn’t stop herself from clapping a bit more, drawing the attention of her two stalwart companions. “C’mere, pups! Help me tuck in Her Majesty.”

Bea batted at the air between them. “No more royal speak! I don’t want to be reminded.”

“What?” Fran fell into their lifelong patter. “The fact that you’re so royal you’d probably bleed fleurs-de-lys?”

“That’s the French, idiot!”

“What do Italian royals bleed, then? Truffles?”

“Ha!” Bea giggled, reaching out a hand to give Fran’s a big squeeze. “It’s not truffle season. It’s tabloid season. And they’re definitely going to have a field day with this. I can’t even bear to think about it.” She threw her arm across her eyes and sank back into the downy pillow. “What do you think they’ll say? Princess left at the altar, now weeping truffle tears?”

Fran pulled her friend up by her hands and gave her a hug. It was awful seeing her beautiful dark eyes cloud over with sadness. “How about some honey?” she suggested, signaling to the two big dogs to come over to the bedside. “That mountain honey you gave me from the Dolomites was amazing.”

“From the resort?” Bea’s eyes lit up at the thought. “It’s one of the most beautiful places in the world. Maybe...”

“Maybe what?” Fran knew the tendrils of a new idea when she saw one.

“Maybe I’ll pull a Frannie!”

“What does that mean?” She put on an expression of mock horror, fully aware that it wasn’t masking her defensive reaction.

She knew exactly what it meant. A lifetime of trying to get her father’s attention and failing had turned her into a wanderer. Staying too long in any one place meant getting attached. And that meant getting hurt.

“Don’t get upset. I envy you. Your ability to just pick up and go. Disappear. Reinvent yourself. Maybe it’s time I went and did something new.”

Fran goldfished for a minute.

“That phase of my life might be over,” she hedged. “Once this summer’s done and dusted I’m going home.”

“Home, home?” Bea sat up straight, eyes wide with shock. “I thought you said you’d never settle down there.”

“Dad’s offered to help me set up a full-time assistance-dogs training center—”

“You’ve never accepted his money before! What’s the catch?”

“You mean what’s going to be different this time?” Fran said, surprised at the note of shyness in her voice.

Bea nodded. She was the one who had always been there on the end of a phone when Fran had called in tears. Again.

“We spent a week together before I came over.”

“A week?” Bea’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s huge for you two. He wasn’t in the office the whole time?”

“Nope! We actually went to a car show together.”

Bea pursed her lips together. Not impressed.

“I know. I know,” Fran protested, before admitting, “He had a little run-in with the pearly gates.”

“Fran! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It turned out to be one of those cases of indigestion disguising itself as a heart attack, but it seems to have been a lightbulb moment for him. Made him reassess how he does things.”

“You mean how he’s neglected his only daughter most of his life?”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Francesca Martinelli, don’t you dare tell me your heart wasn’t broken time and time again by your father choosing work over spending time with you.”

Fran met her friend’s gaze—saw the unflinching truth in it, the same solid friendship and loyalty she’d shown her from the day they’d met at boarding school.

“I know. But this time it really is different.”

“Frannie...” Bea’s brow furrowed. “He took you to a car show. You hate cars!”

“It was an antique car show. Not a single electric car in sight.”

Bea gave a low whistle. “Will wonders never cease?”

“Martinelli Motors is doing so well it could probably run itself.”

“No surprise there. But I’m still amazed he took time off. It must’ve been one heck of a health scare.”

Fran nodded. She knew Bea’s wariness was legitimate. The number of times Fran had thought this would be the time her father finally made good on his promise to spend some quality father-daughter time...

“It was actually quite sweet. I got to learn a lot more about him as we journeyed through time via the cars.” She smiled at the memory of a Model T that had elicited a story about one of his cousins driving up a mountainside backward because the engine had only been strong enough in reverse. “Even though we all know cars aren’t my passion, I learned more about him in that one weekend than I have...ever, really.”

He’d thought he was going to die—late at night, alone in his office. And it had made him change direction, hadn’t it? Forced him to realize a factory couldn’t give hugs or bake your favorite cookies or help you out when you were elderly and in need of some genuine TLC or a trip down memory lane.

“We’ve even been having phone calls and video-link chats since I left. Every day.”

Bea nodded. Impressed now. “Well, if those two hounds of yours are anything to go by, it’ll be a successful business in no time. Who knows? I might need one of those itty-bitty handbag assistance dogs to keep me chirpy!”

“Ooh! That’s their specialty. Want a display?” Without waiting for an answer, she signaled directions at her specially trained pooches, “Come on, pups! Bedtime for Bea!”

Fran was rewarded with a full peal of Beatrice’s giggles when the dogs went up on their hind legs on either side of the bed and pulled at the soft duvet until it was right up to her chin.

Snuggled up under her covers, Bea turned her kind eyes toward Fran. “Grazie, Francesca. You’re the best. Mamma has promised caffe latte and your favorite brioche con cioccolata if we head over to the palazzo tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be up early, so don’t worry about me. I’ll just grab something from this enormous fruit bowl before I shoot off.” She feigned trying to lift the huge bowl and failing. “Better save my back. I’ve got to be there at nine. Fit and well!”

“At Clinica Mont di Mare?”

“Aha! I knew I’d get something from you beyond the sat-nav coordinates!”

Bea gave her a sidelong glance, then shook her head. “All I’m going to say is keep an open mind.”

“Sounds a bit scary.”

Bea gave her hand a squeeze. “Of all the people in the world, I know you’re the best one for this particular job.”

“Thanks, friend.”

Fran fought the tickle of tears in her throat. Bea was her absolute best friend and she trusted her implicitly. The fact Bea was still speaking to her after today’s debacle made her heart squeeze tight.

“Un bacione.” She dropped a kiss on her friend’s forehead and gave her hand a final squeeze before heading to her own bedroom and climbing into the antique wrought iron–framed bed.

“Freda, come! Covers!” Might as well get as much practice in as possible.

The fluffy Bernese mountain dog padded over, did as she had been bid, then received a big ol’ cuddle. Fran adored Freda, with her big brown eyes. The three-year-old dog was ever patient, ever kind. In contrast to the other full-of-beans dog she’d brought along.

“Edison! Come, boy!”

The chocolate Lab lolloped up to the side of the bed to receive his own cuddle, before flopping down in a contented pile of brown fur alongside Freda.

The best of friends. Just like her and Bea. It would be so hard to say goodbye.