It Had To Be You (10 page)

“And Lord, you said you would give us the desires of our heart.”

“Give us our desires, Lord!” Bonnie Sue interjected.

I whispered, “Within reason,” as a precaution. No point in bossing the Lord around, after all.

Earline paused for a moment, clearly picking up on the same idea. “O’ course, we realize our will has to line up with yours, but Lord, only you know for sure when things are in alignment and when they’re not. We just know that you’ve asked us to pray, so that’s what we’re doing. We ask that you touch our sister’s heart and give her peace in the middle of this storm. And Lord, if there’s any work to be done in the heart of that man out there …” Her voice began to tremble with emotion.

At this, all of the women in the room added a quivering, “
Yes
, Lord!”

“Well, you know how to speak to him, Father,” Earline said. “So we ask you to do it in your time and in your way. In Jesus’s mighty name!”

“Amen!” we all echoed.

And there you had it. The prayer meeting came to its rightful conclusion. All of the women took their turns hugging Lilly and giving her words of wisdom and advice. For the first time I noticed that Francesca had slipped into the room. When her turn came, she gazed at Lilly with tears in her eyes.

“Just keep praying,” she said, albeit in Italian. “God knows what you need and when you need it.”

Alrighty then. Looked like we’d all jumped the gun on Francesca. Maybe some of us needed to repent for more than just flirting with the band members. How many of us had judged her at first glance based on her outward appearance?

“So …” Mama looked at the bathroom door with a half-smile. “Who’s going to be the first to go back out there? You know the men have got to be wondering what we’re doing in here.”

“Hmm.” I grinned and then offered up a shrug. “Guess it should be me. I’m the leader of this merry little band, I suppose. Being the wedding coordinator and all.” I drew in a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and headed for the door.

Monday has always been my favorite day at Parma John’s because I love the Mambo Italiano special. There’s just something about it that does me in. The smell of the sizzling sausage with its spicy kick. The taste of the spicy red sauce, still bubbling, fresh from the oven. The texture of the gooey cheese atop a thick, layered crust. Mmm! I could hardly wait for Mondays!

Laz decided Monday would be the perfect day to treat the family to lunch, so we loaded up the cars with the whole gang and headed to the Strand—a historic street in the hub of the island’s market district—where our family’s pizza restaurant resided. I could see the look of interest in Bianca’s eyes as we pulled onto the street.

“These buildings are quite old and quaint,” she said, looking around. “Lovely. And they look like they’ve weathered the years.”

“Yes, you’re right on both counts. They’re over a hundred years old,” I explained. “In fact, they survived both the Galveston hurricane of 1900 and Hurricane Ike in 2008, so they’ve more than weathered the years.” I went on to tell her that Ike’s waters had risen along the Strand to the tune of four or even five feet.

Bertina gave me a nod. “I remember hearing all about Ike. Rosa called us as soon as your phones were turned back on. We were so worried about you.”

“Well, we rode out that one in Houston,” I said. “And I won’t lie—that storm took quite a toll on Galveston Island. We’re still working to get things rebuilt. That’s why D.J. moved down here. He and hundreds of other carpenters have had their hands full putting things back together.”

“You must be so proud of him, Bella!” Bianca gushed. “
È
bellissimo ciò che ha fatto!
It is a wonderful thing that he did!” Her smile warmed me.

“Oh, I am proud of him, trust me. He’s not just kindhearted and wonderful to me and my family, D.J. is that way with everyone he meets. He’s a good guy through and through.”

“And he’s getting a great girl,” Bianca said, giving me a wink.

I responded with a smile, my heart so full I thought I might cry. Why oh why did I only get to see my Italian relatives every ten years or so? It hardly seemed fair! And how glorious that they loved my sweetie. What a blessed confirmation to have people from the other side of the globe give their stamp of approval.

After parking, we spent a few minutes walking down the Strand to give our guests a proper feel of the place before taking them inside our family’s restaurant. Bianca especially loved the Confectionary, while Bertina had her eye on several touristy shops. She even bought a couple of trinkets, which she claimed would always remind her of her trip to the island. Should I have told her that both of the items she’d purchased were actually made in China? Nah.

Deanna trudged along behind us, looking more than a little dejected. I had a feeling her thoughts were not on Galveston Island or souvenirs. No, she was still deep in thought about what had happened this morning. Likely she was thinking about how Rosa had to wait for Laz for over fifty years. No wonder the girl looked pale. I took her by the arm and distracted her with the promise of the best pizza in the world. She finally cracked a smile, albeit a small one.

Finally we landed at the front door of Parma John’s. My heart swelled with pride as we stepped inside. There was something about this place that did my heart good. Well, if you didn’t count the excessive calories I consumed eating pepperoni and sausage, anyway. And the fact that Pop had to take a lactose intolerance pill before entering the premises.

Joey met us at the door and greeted us with enthusiasm, as he always did. I loved this baby brother of mine. Sure, he was different from the other guys in my family. His shorter stature and longer hair set him apart, as did the tattoos. Oh, but when it came to goodness and personality, this guy couldn’t be outdone. And Joey had such a heart for the teens who frequented Parma John’s. That made him the perfect candidate to work here. He’d turned the family’s pizzeria into a mission field. Everyone responded to his sincerity and genuine goodness. Not that I was biased, of course. He just happened to stand heads taller than most other people I knew. Symbolically, anyway.

“I pushed several tables together so you could all eat as one big happy family,” he said, gesturing to a spot at the very back of the room.

“Of course you did.” I reached to give him a hug. “You’re as good as gold. Always thinking of others.”

“Actually, I was thinking of sparing our customers from the noise by putting you at the back of the room,” he said with a wink. “Does that make me a bad guy?”

“No, just a responsible one.” I laughed.

“Hey, speaking of customers, the Burtons are here.” He pointed to the left wall where my mother’s best friend, Phoebe, sat with her husband and son. I gave them a little wave, and they responded in kind.

I turned my attention back to Deanna, who smiled as she looked around the eclectic restaurant with its red- and white-checkered tablecloths and drippy wine-bottle candles. Her gaze shifted to the counter, where the espresso bar was located. Above the scent of the mouth-watering pizza, you could always smell the various coffees at Parma John’s. And the vibrant colors of the room were sure to tantalize as well.

“Oh, Bella! This reminds me so much of home. The colors, the smell, the decor.” Deanna closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, then opened them and reached to hug Uncle Laz, whispering, “I love it here!”

“You’ve done so much to the place since we were here last,” Bertina said with a smile. “It’s perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Laz responded with tears in his eyes, whispering a gentle, “Thank you, ladies.” I knew they were tears of both joy and sorrow. He’d run this place like a champ for the past sixteen years. But now that he was facing retirement, it had to be tough to let go, even though the family business would be in my brothers’ capable hands.

D.J. joined us, leaning down to kiss me as I took my seat. “You look great,” he whispered.

I felt my cheeks warm and gave him a playful wink. “Thanks. You too.” He did look great, in a hot and sweaty sort of way. I smiled as I saw the bits of sawdust in his hair. Hazards of the carpentry trade. Not that I minded. They added character and pizzazz. Nope, I wouldn’t change a thing about this boy, especially not his work ethic.

D.J. grinned as he said, “Mambo Italiano!”

“Mmm,” I added.

“I can almost taste that sausage now.”

Emilio’s voice rose above the crowd. “Laz,
qual è la specialità
della casa?
”

“The specialty of the house?” Laz rose with a smile on his face and a menu in his hand, ready to explain, as always. “I’m glad you asked!” He addressed the family, describing the various pizza specials and how they were named after Dean Martin songs. The Mambo Italiano. The Pennies from Heaven. The Simpatico. All of the various themed pizzas were described in detail.

I heard Dino crooning “Mambo Italiano” off in the distance, so I knew my uncle hadn’t completely lost his love for the guy. Maybe I could talk Laz into at least one Dean Martin song for the reception, for old times’ sake. Surely Rosa wouldn’t mind, as long as we threw in a tune by Ol’ Blue Eyes just for fun.

Nick approached and took our drink orders, pausing to talk with everyone as he went. The process took awhile, what with all of the chatter, but no one seemed to mind. I couldn’t help but think that Parma John’s would surely be in good hands with both Nick and Joey on board.

And Jenna.

I looked up at the register, where my best friend usually stood. Hmm. No Jenna. What was up with that? And why hadn’t she returned my call?

Leaning over to D.J., I whispered, “Hey, did you notice that Jenna’s not here?”

“Mm-hmm. First thing I noticed, in fact.”

“Still no word from Bubba?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm.”

After Nick took our orders, he disappeared back to the kitchen, and I decided to join him. I slipped out of my chair unnoticed by all but D.J., who likely knew what I was up to. I had some investigative work to take care of.

“Hey.” My one-word opening caused Nick to look up from filling glasses with soda.

“Hey, Bella.” A concerned look crossed my brother’s face. “What’s up? Did I miss something? Leave someone out?”

“No, I’m just curious about something. Where is Jenna?”

He shrugged and rolled his eyes. “You tell me. It’s just so weird. She’s been gone for three days now, you know.”

“You mean she called in sick three days in a row?”

“No.” Nick stopped filling the glasses and turned to face me. I could read the worry in his eyes. “She called in sick three days ago, then never came back.”

Nothing about this made sense. “I saw her four or five days ago and she looked fine. We talked for a few minutes, and nothing struck me as unusual. Do you think maybe she came down with a cold or something? Maybe she’s trying to spare you guys from getting it.”

He shrugged. “Could be. But she’s apparently been sick awhile. So sick she couldn’t even pick up the phone to call me. I’ve had a huge workload, especially with the family in town. And I’m more concerned than ever now that I know she didn’t even call you, her best friend.”

“Actually, I’m hardly best friend material these days.” I sighed, thinking about how I’d ignored Jenna of late. Of course, I was up to my earlobes with wedding plans, but a girl should call her best friend, especially if she was sick.

“It’s just weird.” Nick shrugged. “She’s worked here … what? Five years? And rarely called in sick. She’s always been a trouper.”

“Right.” I paused, deep in thought. “The story just keeps getting stranger,” I said, feeling my nerves kick in. “Mama said that Bubba missed rehearsal a couple of days ago. For the opera, I mean. He’s starring in that Christmas production— what’s it called again?”

“
Ahmal and the Night Visitors
?”

“Yeah, that one. Anyway, he called in sick night before last.”

“Maybe he’s really sick too,” Nick said with a shrug.

“I really don’t think that’s it.” I paused to release a sigh. “D.J. said he’s had trouble reaching him all weekend. No one has heard from either of them.”

“Hmm.”

“Exactly.”

We stood in silence for a moment before Nick startled to attention. “Better get these drinks to the table before our imaginations get the best of us.”

“Right. Let me help you.” I slipped into gear, helping him load the drinks onto a tray, which I carried back to the table.

When I arrived, I saw that the Burtons had stopped by to meet the family. I could see the curiosity in Phoebe’s eyes when she looked at Francesca and knew she’d probably have a million questions for Mama later.

I continued to balance the tray as they talked, nearly losing it a time or two. After they left, Deanna looked my way. “You work here too, Bella?”

I laughed, nearly dropping the tray in the process. “No, they won’t let me. I tried working here the summer after my junior year, and, well …”

“Let’s just say it’s cheaper
not
to let her work here,” Laz interjected.

“I, um … dropped a few things,” I said, struggling to hang on to the tray.

Thankfully, Joey showed up and lifted the tray from my arms and began to pass around the drinks. On the other side of the table, Nick did the same. I watched as everyone settled back into the routine of talking, but then I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye. Sal, looking back and forth between Laz and Rosa. Hmm. What was his deal, anyway? I tried to push all of the “what if’s” out of my mind, focusing instead on my cousin, who peppered me with questions about Parma John’s. I willingly answered, happy for the distraction.

Our spicy sausage pizzas arrived moments later, and we dove in headfirst. D.J. swallowed down his first piece, then reached for a second. He was like a track star in training, moving faster than the speed of light. Not that I blamed him. There’s something about a spicy sausage pizza that causes a person to lose control of their senses. Kind of the same effect swing music had on the older generation, actually. Magical, really.