If The Shoe Fits (7 page)

The fact that Mother hadn’t met the man before
her declaration had been beside the point. Mother had known about
the accident, his wife’s death, and, most importantly, his
lucrative business. It hadn’t been hard to then make events go the
way she’d wanted. Mother never had any trouble making things go the
way she wanted, which, at times, was majorly annoying. Just once,
Staci would love to be able to beat her at something.

Though, actually… Mother had managed to snag a
guy who owned merely a
diner
. Had it been a nightclub or a
four- or even three-star restaurant, that’d be something different.
But, nope. Diner.

Staci was setting her sights much higher—like
six-foot something with a broad set of shoulders, a face worth
looking at every day, and a great car. Mr. Gorgeous
had
to
be made of money.

She’d find out for sure from
Cindabella
. The cook. Staci always got a giggle over that
one. If she were Bella, she would have sold her shares in this
place eons ago and be off living the high life somewhere. She’d
never understand why someone would elect to bury herself in this
hole of a town or greasy snack joint for the rest of her life,
subjugating herself for the good of a sister.

And for what? Staci looked around and
grimaced. To keep this place operational so some screaming brats
could smash cookies on the floor? Or for Mr. Comb-Over over there
to meticulously count out his tip to the last penny for a stupid
egg sandwich?

Oh no,
this
was not for her.
She
was going somewhere. And with someone. Preferably Mr. Tall and
Gorgeous with the car.

Drew waved to Nicky Napoli and ditched her. As
if that was such a loss. The
last
thing Staci cared about
was being abandoned for some pumped-up, undershirt-wearing,
beer-swilling, ‘roided-out deadbeat.

Seeing her stepsister’s ponytail disappear
into the kitchen, Staci headed that way, trying desperately not to
touch any of the locals. She shrank against a booth as wayward
hands dripping with syrup attached to a three-year-old danced past
her. She skirted around a mountain of a man overflowing one of the
tiny chairs, his lips smacking as he licked each of his fingers.
Staci covered her mouth to keep her own breakfast down. Once past
that obstacle, she saw Mrs. Angelelli step back to allow her to
pass, a tiny smirk on the woman’s face.

As
if
Staci cared that the
distaste was a two-way street. As soon as she found out what Bella
knew, she was out of here.

***

Bella popped out from the kitchen and caught
sight of Staci. She sucked in her breath. Both stepsisters seeking
her out in two days? Something was up in the heavens—
not
that she hadn’t figured that out about two seconds into that kiss
with Reese—

She would
not
think about that.
Especially not around Staci. If the girl got even a whiff of
Bella’s interest in a guy, it’d be all over. Staci’s mission in
life seemed to be to make her life miserable and she’d stolen more
than one boyfriend. True, it’d been in high school when what Staci
had been willing to do went a lot farther with boys than
hand-holding on the front porch, but Bella wasn’t about to test the
theory when it came to Reese.

Of course, the fact that she shouldn’t be
interested in Reese should play a part, too. She still wasn’t sure
how she felt about being second best.

But a contract was a contract. She could worry
about her injured ego once Sophia was safely away from Madeleine.
“What are you doing here, Staci?”

“
Some guy outside said he had a
meeting with the caterer.”

Some
guy? Staci must have passed Reese
and now she wanted info. Bella slid past her to deliver another
plate of food and plastered a smile on her face. Staci would never
know that she gritted her teeth behind it. “Yes, well, we’re
discussing Casteleoni’s doing a charity event.” The word “charity”
was sure to derail Staci’s interest. Her stepsister didn’t have an
unselfish bone in her body.

But Reese’s attraction must have been too
great (as Bella could confirm) because Staci wasn’t giving up. “Oh,
what event is that? Maybe Mother has tickets for it.” The question
rolled off her tongue, sugar-sweet, like molasses in
July.

Bella gave in; Staci was like a dog with a
bone when she wanted something. “It’s an auction for Community
General. His name is Reese and he’s—”

“
Reese? Ohmygod. It’s
him
!”
Staci lost her smug look on the first gasp. “I
knew
he
looked familiar.” She actually laid a hand on Bella’s arm. That was
a first. “You
do
know who he is, right? Reese Charmant?” Her
eyes widened, the heavy mascara giving her a heroin-chic look that
was anything but chic.

Yes, Bella knew who he was—or rather, she knew
who the owner of Promotional Sports was and his connections to the
industry. It was one of the reasons she’d wanted to win the
catering job; if she could hook up with him, she’d get enough
business to fund the custody battle.

But she also knew from experience that Staci
was going to tell her whether she wanted to know or not. Her
stepsister loved lording anything she could over her—and wouldn’t
she
just
love
to spill her own knowledge of Reese?
How he tasted, how he smelled, how he could overwhelm her with a
sigh, and make her tremble with a kiss.

Probably not a good idea. Staci would only use
it to her advantage and Bella’s
dis
advantage somewhere along
the line, and feeling those things about him was disadvantage
enough.

“
He’s the quarterback who won us
the Super Bowl.” Staci spun around, drama flailing from every
fingertip, almost smacking poor little Michael Spaccone in the
face. “He’s a hero in this town. A very good-looking hero.” Staci
slid into an empty booth. “And now you’re working for him? Hmmm…”
Staci strummed her nails on the table, the
clickety-click
of
acrylic punctuating her thoughts. “It’s going to be a big event,
isn’t it?”
Clickety-click
. “With lots of people. Wealthy
people always to go to those things.”
Clickety-click
.
“You’re going to need lots of help.”
Clickety-click
.

An idea was forming and Bella would bet she
wasn’t going to like it.

She would have won that bet when Staci grinned
the same Cheshire-cat smile Madeleine and Drew both had, and her
nails stopped mid-
clickety-click
. Even with the noise of the
restaurant behind her, Bella heard the ominous silence of the
nails.

“
I’ll help you.”

Oh no she would not. Staci was incompetent.
With anything. Well, anything but shopping and spending.

Shopping and spending
… Hmm. Bella knew
Staci as well as she knew Drew. If she said no to the demand, Staci
would threaten Sophia. Same old pattern.
But
if she gave her
something innocuous to do, well, maybe it wouldn’t be a disaster
after all.

She considered a bit longer and tried one last
shot. “I doubt Madeleine will be thrilled to have you working. I
thought the Board members’ families were above all
that.”

“
Yeah, well, turns out Mother
didn’t get the nod just yet. Seems there’s someone else in the
running. She’ll actually be thrilled if I volunteer. After all,
it’ll reflect well on her.”

Unless Staci screwed it up. In which case,
Madeleine wouldn’t get the position and the threat to sell would
become much more real. Madeleine wouldn’t dare stay around to be
publicly humiliated by her defeat. And what that would do to
Casteleoni’s reputation…

It didn’t bear thinking about. Which meant she
was stuck with an assistant she didn’t want.

“
I can do the stuff on the front
end, Bella. You know, meet with the client and uh...” Her river of
ideas ran dry after that.

Exactly
. Staci always did have a
one-track mind—

Which might actually work to Bella’s
advantage.

“
Fine. Once we decide on the menu,
you can help me shop, buy, and spend money.” Staci’s holy
trinity.

“
That’ll work.” Staci jumped out
of the booth. “So when do we meet with Reese?”

“
We
don’t.
He
has
the proposal; it’s up to him to make the next move.”

“
That’s your problem, Bella. You
should never wait for any guy to make a move. If you want
something, you need to go for it.”

Words to live by. Too bad they could have
nothing to do with Reese.

Chapter Seven

Bella met with Mrs. DeLeo the next morning to
discuss the party Drew had talked her into and was even more
hopeful for the upcoming battle with Madeleine. Connie DeLeo and
her husband had contacts with almost every business in this part of
the state, so not only would the Sophia Custody Fund get a much
needed infusion of cash, but her name would get out as a can-do
caterer.

The sun was shining through the large maple
trees lining the center avenue of town as Bella headed back to the
restaurant. The neighborhood teemed with people enjoying the
weather. Bicyclists dodged parked cars and rode alongside the light
afternoon traffic between the Main-Street- USA style storefronts on
each side of—what else?—Main Street.

Bella sidestepped two men in faded t-shirts
and jeans who were leaning over a sidewalk newspaper vending
machine, loudly flapping the open pages and arguing about an umpire
making a bad call last evening. Two boys almost ran her over with
their skateboards, and she had to do a quick hopscotch out of
little Loretta Pastorius’s mad dash of a coach ride with her baby
doll.

Up ahead, Maria DeRosa was valiantly trying to
grab two of her toddlers’ hands while maintaining control of a
stroller with her yet-again pregnant belly. Louie Sandone had
blocked off an area around Mr. Filipone’s hardware store to repair
some brickwork. Rosa Angelelli was watering her window boxes on the
second floor and calling out to her nephew, Joey, below not to
forget the prosciutto at Arena’s or there wouldn’t be any supper
for him that evening. In the midst of the comfortable chaos, Bella
offered a quick hello—or in Maria’s case, an extra hand—to everyone
she met.

This was the town she loved. Home. How could
Madeleine think of sending Sophia away?

Bella mustered a smile amid that depressing
thought as Maria blew her a kiss before she headed across the
street with her boys. “You’re a sweetheart, Bell. I don’t know why
some man hasn’t snatched you up. We could be walking our babies
together.”

Bella just waved to her high school friend and
watched her waddle off. She knew, all right, why she hadn’t been
“snatched up” yet:
Sophia
. To be “snatched,” one had to be
out there to be “snatched.” She hadn’t been and didn’t see that
changing anytime soon. Securing Sophia’s future was more of an
immediate concern than romance.

Across the street, Maria’s husband ran up to
his wife, caught her around the waist, and planted a big kiss on
her lips, then led his family into Panella’s Ice Cream
Parlor.

Though romance did have a lot to recommend
it…

Bella touched her lips, remembering Reese’s
too-brief kiss. She sighed. As far as arguments went, hers wasn’t
the greatest, but it was the only one she had. She just couldn’t
abandon her baby sister to that woman. Lord only knew where Sophia
would end up if Bella didn’t win the custody battle. Unless she
kidnapped her, won the lottery, or, like Giac suggested, found a
Prince Charming who wouldn’t mind using his kingdom’s unending
fortune to pay Madeleine off. Or, better yet, Madeleine could eat a
poisoned apple.

Yeah, and unicorns could fly.

Taking a deep breath, Bella opened the door to
Casteleoni’s, willing the familiar atmosphere to work its magic on
her frazzled emotions. The cheers of “Bella!” from everyone in the
place went a long way to doing so.

She grabbed her apron from behind the counter
and tossed her purse into its hiding spot all in the same movement
she’d done for years. She pulled her long hair back into its usual
workday ponytail, then gathered a few used dishes and cups, and
deposited them in the rinse bin, calling a quick, “Thanks, Aunt
Theresa!” into the kitchen where her mother’s oldest friend
balanced three plates.

“
Not a problem, sweetie.” Her
pseudo-aunt blew her an air kiss. “Glad I could help out.” She
walked into the dining room and nodded to booth nine. “I’ll just
get this on over to Tony and Rose and that cute little grandson
Petey of theirs, and then I’ll be on my way. Did everything work
out with Mrs. DeLeo?”

“
Yes, it did. Although I’m going
to be pretty busy for the next few nights.” Bella wiped down Mr.
Campanale’s place and collected his tip. She had to smile. Every
day for the five years since Mrs. Campanale had passed away he
would come in, order the same meal, and leave a fifty-cent tip. And
Bella would throw the quarters in the big mason jar under the sink.
There must be close to nine hundred dollars in there. She’d tried
to return it to him many times, but he wouldn’t hear of it—told her
to use it for something special. She hoped he’d consider Sophia’s
Custody Fund special enough.