Page 9 of Christmas Treasures (Sugarville Grove #6)

MAX

H e still didn’t know why Charlie hated December, but he suspected it had something to do with her parents.

The way her eyes dimmed when she spoke about their deaths had given some insight into her.

More than he had before, anyway. Her offer to help with Bianca had surprised him.

She was more generous than he had thought.

In fact, it was becoming clear to him that it was not aloofness that kept her slightly apart from everyone else.

She was shy. She’d admitted that she found it hard to talk to people.

Now he found himself seated next to her at dinner. Laney was sneaky. Not that he minded. Charlie’s serious nature had a calming effect on him.

They participated in the conversations around them, but by dessert, the two of them had fallen into an intimate conversation.

Max had no idea what was going on around him.

It was too mesmerizing to be sitting next to a beautiful woman who smelled of lilacs and had a habit of chewing off her lipstick and leaning close as if she wanted to catch every subtle nuance of whatever he was saying .

“Where was your trattoria?” Charlie asked. “I wonder if I ever went there.”

“San Frediano. Still on the Oltrarno side, but more locals than tourists. Laundry on the lines, neighbors who’d argue across balconies. I remember thinking it felt like the real Florence, not the one where tourists flocked.”

Charlie nodded, resting her chin in her hand, turned in her chair to look directly at him. She was so close, he could see the golden flecks in her brown eyes. “I spent time there. Had coffee near Piazza del Carmine some mornings.”

“That café with the broken marble tables?” he asked, surprised.

“That’s the one.”

For whatever reason, that thrilled him. “Lucia’s trattoria was just a few blocks from there. Tucked between a carpenter’s shop and a flower stall. No sign. Just the scent of tomato and garlic luring people in.”

“Sounds magical,” Charlie murmured.

“It was.” He grinned, remembering the first evening he’d spent there.

“I went there for dinner. I’d been in Florence about a week, and I was starting to run out of money, so I needed a job.

I was just walking around, looking for a place to eat for cheap.

I found it by accident and followed the smell right inside.

They sat me at this wobbly table with candle wax caked into the wood, and just as an older woman brought the house wine to my table, I heard shouting coming from the kitchen. ”

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “Shouting?”

“Full-on Italian kitchen drama. A man stormed out of the back, red in the face, muttering about ‘temperamental chefs’ and that he was done. He slammed his apron on a chair and walked right out the front door. Lucia followed him out, still shouting. Not that I could understand her, but I got the idea when she gave him the finger. ”

Charlie laughed. She really had a nice laugh. Kind of girlie and bubbly. Not what he’d have expected.

“Then, this little girl peeked out from behind her mother, and she smiled at me. Like she and I shared a secret or something. I’ll never forget that.”

“Bianca?”

“That’s right. She had these big brown eyes in this tiny face. I don’t know what came over me, but I suddenly had the idea to ask Lucia if she needed any help in the kitchen.”

Charlie tilted her head. “Just like that?”

“I’d worked in kitchens before. I needed the money.

I tried to tell her all that in my broken Italian.

Later, she told me she offered the job to me without any expectation of me actually doing any work.

She said she figured I was a spoiled, lazy American.

But she was desperate. She looked me over once, handed me an apron, and said, ‘Non toccare il mio sugo.’”

Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Don’t touch my sauce.”

Max laughed. “Took me three days and a pocket dictionary to figure out what she said. I didn’t dare ask her to repeat it.”

Charlie shook her head, smiling. “That’s actually really romantic.”

He nodded, chest aching at the memory. “It was. We fell in love over the next few weeks. We had some glorious months together. And then she got sick.”

“Oh, Max, that’s awful.”

“Broke my heart to lose her. But that’s when she asked if I would take Bianca if anything happened to Rosella—her mother-in-law. Her husband died when Bianca was only a baby, so Rosella came to live with them. Anyway, we had the time to make it all legal, should it come to that.”

“Why didn’t you stay?”

“After I lost her, I just wanted to come home. I’d been away for years, traveling the world. This will sound pathetic, but I just wanted to see my mom.”

Charlie’s eyes misted over. “Not pathetic at all. Very sweet.”

“And I didn’t think Rosella would pass away before Bianca was an adult. She seemed very healthy. Robust even. Rosella took Bianca out of Florence, to her small village, to raise her there. I’d promised Lucia I would help them, so I arranged to send money once a month.”

“All this time?”

“It was the least I could do. Since I left. But honestly, I knew Bianca was better off with her nonna. And now she’s going to be stuck with just me.”

“And your family. As sad as it is to lose her mother and grandmother, she’s coming into a family with a lot of love to go around.”

“Huh. Okay,” Max said. He’d not thought she’d noticed him or his family much at all.

“What?” She chuckled.

“Like I said, I didn’t think you had any time for the Hayes brothers.”

“It’s obvious you’re a close family. If I’m being honest, I’ve felt a little envious. I’ve seen you all together at various events and you always seemed to be having so much fun. When you’re alone, you notice these things. Or maybe that’s just me.”

“No, it’s not just you.” He sliced into the chocolate cake before him but didn’t bring it to his mouth. “And thanks for sharing that with me. You’re welcome to join the Hayes family any time. At risk of your own peril, of course.”

She looked into his eyes, causing his pulse to quicken. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The dinner guests had trickled out, leaving empty glasses and candle stubs in their wake. Laney and Nolan were finishing up in the kitchen, laughing softly over dishes.

“Hey guys, I’m taking off,” Max said.

“Thanks again for all your help,” Laney said. “I think it was a big success.”

“I agree. But don’t think I’m not onto you, Mrs. Hayes,” he said to Laney.

She feigned innocence. “No idea what you mean. However, would you mind giving Charlie a ride home? She’s in the foyer calling an Uber.”

“Again, I’m onto you, but yes, I’d be happy to.”

He found Charlie staring down at her phone, a puzzled look on her face. There was a slight sway in her posture and warmth in her cheeks.

“You okay?”

She blinked at him. “Yes, but I’m not driving home. I was just trying to figure out how to get an Uber. It’s all that delicious wine.”

“I can drive you home.”

She hesitated. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Consider it a favor to thank you for helping me with Bianca.”

She smiled, tossing her hair behind her shoulders. “That’s a fair trade.”

They hurried out to his car. The temperatures had dropped while they were inside, but the roads were clear of ice. Still, he would drive carefully. As he opened the car door for Charlie, a thought occurred to him. He was all Bianca had left. He had to make sure he was around to take care of her.

After he had her settled, he hustled into the driver’s seat. Soon, they were headed toward Charlie’s place. He had to admit, he was curious about her home. He knew she’d bought the old Wilder place, and he’d heard rumors about a remodel. “What’s this I hear about a greenhouse?” Max asked.

“My pride and joy. Would you like to see it? I have all kinds of good things growing in there.” She grinned, her cheek pressed against the back of her seat as she watched him with soft eyes. “Oh my, I am truly tipsy. I don’t usually drink much. Much. I hope you don’t judge me.”

“I could hardly do that, since I’m the one who kept refilling your wineglass.”

“You know what? It was fun. I actually had a great time.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. You have no idea how many times I almost called to cancel.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

Her house was down a long gravel driveway. He remembered coming out with his mother one time to deliver food to Mrs. Wilder when she was recovering from surgery, and the road had been full of potholes at that time.

“I’ve been here before. I was probably sixteen,” he said, cutting the engine. “The Wilders lived out here for as long as I could remember.”

Charlie turned to look at him, one hand on the door. “I never met them, but the Realtor said they were moving into assisted living.”

Max nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Their kids were long gone by the time I was in high school—probably fifteen, twenty years ahead of me and my brothers. I came out here with my mom to deliver a casserole when Mrs. Wilder broke her wrist. I remember a lot of doilies.”

“I’ve changed a lot. Gutted everything but kept the integrity of the house. The moment I saw the wraparound porch, I knew I was home.”

“Can’t wait to see inside. ”

She shot him a look. One he couldn’t read.

“If I’m invited, that is,” Max said slowly.

“I would love to show you around. I’ve not had much company since I moved in after the remodel.” She giggled, pointing at the front window. “That’s Fig. He’ll be waiting and probably mad. He’s not used to me being gone.”

“Is that a cat ?”

“Why do you say it like that?” Charlie asked.

“I thought it might be a medium-sized dog.”

Charlie swatted his shoulder. “Do not fat-shame my soulmate. Yes, he likes his treats and wet food and tuna from a can, but who am I to deny him such pleasures? I mean, a cat’s life is short. They should have everything they want.”

Max chuckled as he got out of the car, meeting Charlie on the walkway. “Careful. It’s a little slick.”