Page 12 of Whispers and Wildfire
“I know, I know.” She waved her hand. “Although it’s shaping up to be a slow night. Maybe that’s a good thing. Melanie’s here. Nathan and Sharla and the kids should be here any minute.”
Italians had a reputation for being loud, but it was my Polish-German mother who talked with her hands and didn’t have an inside voice. She was a force of nature. My Italian father, on the other hand, was calm and reserved—probably why they were so good together.
“Hi, Dad.”
He smiled, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Although he was average height, he towered over my less-than-average-height mom, and his dark hair was peppered with gray.
“Are you going to have time to eat with us?” she asked him. “I was hoping we could all sit down together. Tristan can help, can’t he? I keep saying we need to hire another pizza maker. You work too hard.”
“It’s pizza, not brain surgery,” Dad said. “Of course he can help. I’ve been showing him everything.”
“Good.” Mom clapped her hands together with a bright smile. She seemed to be about to say something else, but another customer came in to pick up their order.
Dad took the opportunity to slip back into the kitchen while Mom wasn’t looking. I pressed my lips together in a smile. Mom talked a lot, but Dad always did exactly what he wanted, when he wanted.
“Do you need any help back there?” I asked once the customer had gone. “Not that I know where anything is.”
She waved her hand again as if batting my offer out of the air. “No, no, we’re fine. Like I said, it's shaping up to be a slow night. Some days are like that. If it was a Friday, we’d have a line out the door.”
“But business is going well?”
“It is.” Her voice was emphatic. “This is a pizza-loving town, and thank goodness for that. How about you go push some tables together before your brother gets here.”
“That, I can do.”
I chose two tables near the front counter in case either of my parents needed to jump up and take care of customers while we ate. After moving the chairs, I went behind the counter to grab cups of crayons for my nieces and nephew. They loved to draw on the paper tablecloths while they waited for their dinner.
Despite my need for a job, working for my parents at Home Slice was so not an option. Mom had offered when I’d first told her I was moving back to Tilikum, but I’d politely refused. And even she seemed to realize that wouldn’t have been good for our relationship. We got along just fine, but we both had strong personalities, so working together would probably push us both past our breaking point.
I’d just set the crayon cups on the table when the feeling ofsomeone coming up behind me made me jump, and I knocked one over, spilling crayons all over the floor.
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked.
“You startled me.” I crouched to pick up the crayons.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I thought you heard me coming. What’s wrong? Why are you so jumpy?”
“Have you met me?” I put the crayons back on the table. “I’m always jumpy. It’s nothing.”
“Ah!” She pointed at me. “It’s nothing means it’s something. Come on, talk to your mama. Is it, you know?”
“No, it’s not that. That’s over. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right, all right. Then what is it?”
I rolled my eyes. “It really is nothing. I just ran into Luke Haven. Almost. I didn’t hit him. Just came close.”
“Didn’t hit him with a fist?” She clenched her hand, as if to demonstrate. “Or are you talking about with your car?”
“Both, I guess, although I wasn’t close enough to punch him.”
“Well, that’s something. Luke’s a nice man. You shouldn’t punch him.”
That made me roll my eyes again, although I didn’t try to argue with her. “Anyway, I made a left turn, and he was right there.”
“How fast was he driving?”
“Exactly!” I threw my arms up. “See, everyone knows he drives too fast. And then he blamed it on me. I mean, sure, I did pull out right in front of him, but if he hadn’t been going so fast, I wouldn’t have almost hit him.”
