Page 66 of Gary

“I am going to a function at her place tonight and we are spending Thanksgiving together. Her mom will be going to see a friend, so she is cooking me dinner. On Sunday, she wants us - both of us over for dinner.” He was standing at the window looking out at the bleak day.

Snow was not in the forecast, but the wind was icy and the sky laden with ominous looking clouds. He had told his uncle about his encounter with Maurice, who hadn’t shown his face aroundthe property since then. Gary had also been keeping an eye out whenever he happened to be at the coffee shop. “I will tell her after.”

“And then?”

Turning around, he stared at the man seated behind the desk. He had come in for a board meeting and was on his way to the job site.

“And then we’ll see.”

“Perhaps she will see your side of it. You said she loves you.”

“Yeah.” A humorless smile touched his lips. “Fat good that’s going to do, when she finds out about my family.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I have a confession to make.” He hunched his shoulders defensively. “I have been praying that she gets pregnant.”

“Gary!“

“I know. That’s not a damn solution, but I am desperate. I am thinking that if she is, she would have no choice except to be with me. And she would be so happy, she would forgive me.” His voice had thickened. “My other plan is to whisk her off to Italy and tell her there. She would be too far away from home to make a run for it.”

“What’s plan C?” Graham asked him dryly.

“I am still working on it.” Leaning back against the window, he closed his eyes wearily. “I don’t know how to live without her.” He added simply. “In less than a month, she has become the single most important person in my life and if she is not in it, then nothing matters.”

Graham felt his heart breaking at the bleak look on his nephew’s face and could relate. He had been in love with the boy’s mother from the very beginning and would have taken any scraps she offered and had done that because he loved her so much.

She was married to his brother, but that had not stopped him from accepting her love. And he had no regrets.

Straightening, Gary shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his expression grim. “I will think of something.”

“Be careful.” His uncle warned.

“Always.”

Graham watched him leave and reached for the phone as soon as he closed the doors behind him.

*****

He could almost forget the troubles plaguing him as he accepted the apple cider that was pushed at him from a woman wearing an apron with a huge handstitched turkey from top to bottom. The place was packed and the conversation vying with theupbeat music playing from the laptop, his love, had set up on the counter.

And business was booming. Sadie and her mother were behind the counter, along with two teenaged girls, one with piercings all over her face. And they were very busy. Aside from a quick kiss from her when he just came in, he had not been able to get a moment with her.

People were buying books and coffee and pastries. Someone was repeating a poem by Byron, at least, he thought it was Byron, he couldn’t be certain, but it was a jolly crowd, and he could almost forget his problems.

That was until the door tinkled and the man walked in. Gary was leaning on the bookcase facing the door when he casually glanced over. His body went still, and he felt his heart turning over, slowly, and then stopped. Literally stopped as he stared at the familiar, hateful face who was grinning at him as if they were friends.

Putting aside his glass, he marched over and stopped Maurice as he moved forward. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He held up a flyer, announcing the activity. “Fun and food. My two favorite things.” He attempted an innocent expression that did not quite work on his craggy face. “Surely it is open to the public.” His small eyes roved around and latched onto someone behind Gary.

“You must be the lovely proprietress of this delightful place.”

Gary’s heart thudded inside his chest as he smelled her familiar fragrance and had to force himself to be civil when she slid her hand through his arm.

“I am. Friend of yours?” She asked him, lifting her head towards him enquiringly.

“Gary and I go a long way back. We knew each other from childhood. He was telling me how lovely you were, but did not do you enough justice.” He made a comical now of his head.

“Name is Maurice Gotti.”

“Another Italian. Nice to meet you.”