Page 45 of Delicious (Delicious #1)

Chapter Four

Mateo

“P izza bagels? What the fuck?”

“Should be easy. We just do the dough different. The rest is the same,” I bluffed.

My cousins treated me to a three-way blank stare from across the counter. It was almost comical since they all looked alike. Well, not exactly. Sal was heavyset and balding, Jimmy was a gym rat with copious tats, and Vanni reminded me of a skinny rock star. But the Cavaretti genes were strong. We all had olive skin, dark hair, prominent noses, and some mystery family trait that made it obvious that we were related.

Sal broke the silence. “What are you up to, Teo? You don’t just up and start making bagels. You gotta do the research. We lack some crucial equipment that costs money.”

Vanni nodded. “Yeah, we don’t have that thing they use. What’s it called?”

“A kettle,” Jimmy replied. “You gotta boil them in water, and there’s the dough, and who’s gonna do it all plus make the pizza?”

“You could ask Ma,” Vanni suggested.

“You kidding me? I’m not working with Ma. Or Aunt Therese…no offense, Teo. I love your mom, but this”—Sal gestured between the four of us—“this is ours.”

“Fuckin’ right it’s ours.”

“No one said it’s not and…”

I held my hands up in surrender, or defeat, as the three brothers talked over each other, Cavaretti-style. Dinners at Aunt Sylvie’s or my mom’s were noisy affairs, and that was putting it mildly. There were a lot of us, and no one was particularly reserved. I was an only child, but Uncle Sal and Aunt Sylvie had three daughters plus these three dingdongs, ten grandkids and counting. Not to mention the in-laws.

A little Cavaretti backstory: Our great-grandparents had immigrated from Italy in 1900 and opened a restaurant in Brooklyn. One of their sons inherited the business, and the other moved west to Haverton. So I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told Rob this was a family legacy. Boardwalk Pizza had been passed on from generation to generation. This place had been Dad’s and Uncle Sal’s pride and joy. But they were both gone now, and it was up to us to carry on.

Jimmy and Vanni were closer in age and argued about everything while Sal and I were the practical ones. My degree in accounting from Haverton pushed me into the business portion while Sal oversaw the kitchen. The others pitched in to do whatever was needed. We had a few non-Cavarettis on the payroll, but the four of us made all the big decisions.

Like bagels.

I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled. “We agreed to bring the pizzeria into the twenty-first century, and maybe we can’t make all the changes we wanted to right away…like busting the wall open, but we can start with a few adjustments to the menu and have some fun with it. What d’ya say?”

Sal frowned. “I hate it.”

“Me too,” Jimmy agreed.

“Sorry, Cuz. I’m with them. Why are we fixin’ something that’s not broken, ya know?” Vanni checked his watch. “Are we done here? I got a date.”

I ignored Vanni and continued. “I found a used kettle online, and it’s a great deal. I propose that I handle the pizza bagels. We’ll do some taste testing and if they’re good, which they will be—we’ll stick ’em on the menu.”

Another three-way glance.

This time Vanni and Jimmy nodded in acquiescence. “Fine, why not?”

A couple of fist bumps later, they headed home or out for the night, leaving me with a suspicious-looking Sal. I pulled the till from the register and took it to the office, unsurprised when he followed me.

“What’s wrong?”

“You tell me, Teo. Seems like a lot of fuss for a small gain. I’m trying to figure out where your head is at,” he replied, crossing his beefy tattooed arms as he leaned against the jamb.

“Healthy competition never hurt anyone.”

“Right,” he drawled, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Why I do I think this is about football, not pizza?”

“Huh?”

“Rob’s the guy who got drafted, played for New York, Dallas, LA. He went to the fucking Super Bowl. Impressive career. And maybe you’re a little bummed it wasn’t you.”

“Fuck you, Sal and good night.” My smile was smarmy at best, but unfortunately, it didn’t encourage him to move on.

Sal’s gaze wandered to the photo on the wall of our dads standing in front of Boardwalk Pizza, arms around each other, shit-eating grins on their faces as if they had the world at their feet.

“Healthy competition is well and good, but sometimes I think you’re in competition with yourself, looking for one play that’s gonna change your life and put you in the win column.”

I fixed him with a blank stare. “What do pizzas and bagels have to do with winning at life?”

“You tell me, Teo. You tell me.”

I didn’t have an answer for that. At least not one that sounded sane.

But damn, I couldn’t help feeling like I needed a win. For my dad, my uncle…my family. The years I’d lost had to mean something. I was aware that was a melodramatic take on what probably amounted to nothing more than an adult temper tantrum. Sue me.

The thought of a former teammate returning to Haverton like a prodigal son and setting up shop next door was so far under my skin, it wasn’t funny.

Or…maybe it was funny and the joke was on me.