Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“I’ll find a small place. Brett and I were discussing getting a place together if things worked out.”
“It’s pretty quiet around here. You won’t miss the big city?”
He laughed. “I’d like a little peace and quiet. I lived over the garage until the fire, and I’ve been bunking in my parents’ basement while I looked around.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve had quite enough of family togetherness for a while.”
“You don’t get along with your family?”
His grin was wide and white in his face. “I love them all, but they are far too close. Mama loves to cook for everyone, so one of my sisters or brothers is always around. Often many of them, plus their spouses and kids. The house is busy all the time, and there is zero privacy.”
“How many siblings?” I asked, curious.
“Six of us.” He paused. “I’m the only single one. Eight nieces and nephews.” He rolled his eyes. “And Nonna’s house is where they all like to hang out, it seems. And Zio Stefano is their favorite jungle gym.”
I chuckled at his description.
Charly had been unusually quiet until now, but she spoke up. “Mary is thinking of renting a room out for the summer since she isn’t hiring anyone this year. You could go talk to her. It’s close, and that way, you can see if you like it here.”
Stefano chewed and swallowed a large bite of burger. “That is a good idea. Then we can take our time looking for a place.” He met my gaze. “If things work out, I mean.”
I had to admit, I liked him. He seemed straightforward and honest. He and Brett got along well, which would make working in the garage easier. I could recall the bustling atmosphere in the past when my dad and his crew worked together. I had been on my own so long, it would take some getting used to, but it might be a good change.
Charly stood, taking her plate to the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten much, which was odd. She had a healthy appetite, which I liked. There was no pretense with her.
But something was off tonight.
A small niggle of doubt began in my head.
Had I been too rough with her today? Stepped over the line? Was she regretting what had happened between us?
She appeared to grow more ill at ease as dinner progressed. Almost folding in on herself. I tried to pinpoint when it happened but couldn’t. I had noticed her tension earlier, but it had grown beyond that.
A plate of cookies appeared on the table, and Charly put a pot of coffee beside them.
“I’ll leave you guys to your talk.”
Now I knew something was really wrong. Charly always wanted in on the discussions about the garage—especially when it was her idea.
“Feel free to join us,” I said, trying to catch her eye.
“No, I’m tired.” She pushed a file my way. “Here’s all the numbers you need.” Her gaze flitted around the table, not really looking at anyone. “Goodnight.”
She climbed the steps, not looking back. I watched her leave, Rufus following her. She looked fine, except I knew her. Her face was pale, the dots of cinnamon vivid on her skin, which meant she was upset.
Something was up. I eyed Brett and Stefano, but they didn’t seem to notice anything. She had been fine earlier—hadn’t she? I couldn’t think of anything either of them had said or done to upset her. Stefano had been polite and respectful toward both of us. Brett knew there was something between us, and he was fine and acted no different.
So, what was I missing?
Brett cleared his throat, and I turned my attention to what we were together to discuss. I asked Stefano some questions, and he was open and honest with me. He showed me some of his work, and I was amazed. I was good at airbrushing and detail work, but my designs were simple, and I stuck to clean lines and patterns.
Stefano was an artist. His work was impeccable and eye-catching.
“Why are you not with one of the big shops in Toronto?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I was for a while. But I hate being told what to do. Having my work pigeonholed. So many of these places have set designs or insist on it being done their way. I like working with customers and finding out what they like and creating something special for them. Most of my work, I do on the side, but then I have to rent out space. I have my own machine, which I’d like to bring with me, if that’s okay.”
I nodded in understanding. We all had preferences for the types of equipment we liked to use. It was personal and what you became used to using. Like tools. I had certain manufacturers I trusted and some I disliked.