with attention, and that won’t be such a bad thing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you say you’d been debating it for a while?”
She wrinkled her nose. “My family. They’re going to read too much into the situation and start planning a double wedding.”
He could see why that would make her uncomfortable. “So don’t take her. I can play hooky for the afternoon.”
“It’s not that simple. I understand a lot of what Kelly’s feeling. Or I think I do. When I was growing up, there were a lot of times when I felt like an outsider. But the feeling didn’t last long because I had my family to adore me.”
He shifted uncomfortably. No way he adored Kelly. “It’s not that I dislike her,” he said.
“I know.” She touched his arm. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. My point is I think my family could be good for her.”
He understood more than she was saying. Even though it meant setting herself up for unwelcome matchmaking, Francesca was willing to take Kelly home because it was the right thing for the girl.
“You’re a hell of a woman.”
She smiled. “Not really, but I’m glad you think so.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I have no idea what my family might say to Kelly, so I’m warning you in advance.”
“I have no idea what Kelly is going to say to them, so we’re even.”
“Good. Kelly is going to be cheek-pinched and hugged and fed until she’s one big ball of good feelings.”
“That will be a change.”
Francesca’s smile faded. “Sam, have you thought anymore about what I said? About Kelly acting out because she doesn’t feel secure?”
“I’ve thought about it. You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with her.”
“She needs to be loved.”
“She’s not very lovable.”
“That doesn’t change the need.”
He knew she was right. Funny, he would have thought loving his own child would be immediate and overwhelming. As it was, he had trouble liking Kelly.
“So are you going to charge me billable hours?” he asked.
She grinned, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. “I was thinking more of taking it out in trade,” she whispered.
Francesca whispered something Kelly couldn’t hear, but it didn’t matter. She was so mad, she was shaking. She hated her father. Hated him with all her heart.
The smell of food had lured her from her room a few minutes ago. She’d come downstairs and had heard Francesca and Sam in the kitchen. She’d just decided she would maybe join them when she’d heard Sam say she wasn’t very lovable.
Spinning on the ball of her foot, she ran to the stairs and raced back to her room.
He was a horrible man. She should report him to the police or something for child abuse, and then they would lock him up and he’d have to spend the rest of his life in prison. That’s what he deserved.
Kelly threw herself on her bed and pulled her Pooh bear close.
“Francesca’s not so bad,” she whispered into the scuffed fur. “But he’s the worst.”
She hated him and she would never, ever forgive him. No matter what.
Halfway to the hacienda the next day, Francesca still hadn’t come up with an explanation for Kelly’s presence. It was hardly as if the Grands wouldn’t notice.
She glanced at Kelly, who had changed into shorts and a shirt after her morning ballet class. The preteen stared out the window without saying much. Francesca tried to figure out the best way to admit she had a problem. A big problem.
She cleared her throat. “Did I mention that my father’s side of the family is Italian?” she asked.
Kelly turned to look at her. Not a flicker of interest showed on her face. “No.”
“They are. My mother’s family is Irish. Basically we’re talking about grade-A European meddlers.”
Kelly continued to watch her without speaking.
“Their idea of perfection is to see all four of their daughters happily married with five or six kids, which, to date, hasn’t happened. But there is a ton of family pressure.”
She waited to see if Kelly would say anything. Sam’s daughter simply watched her.
“I’m going to tell them that your dad and I are friends,” she continued. “The thing is, they’re not going to believe me. So brace yourself for a lot of very unsubtle hints about weddings, marriage, engagements, not to mention questions about how many brothers and sisters you want. Okay?”
“Okay.” Kelly shrugged and turned her attention back to the view out the window. “I understand. Parents can totally overreact.”
Francesca had a feeling that comment was a slam on Sam, but she ignored it. “The other thing I need to warn you about is that my grandmothers love everyone. They’re going to make a big fuss over you, which I know you’ll think is totally uncool. So you need to be prepared.”
Kelly’s expression turned wary. “What do you mean, a big fuss?”
“Oh, they’ll hug you and tell you you’re pretty and try to get you to eat a lot of cookies and stuff. They’re grandmothers.” She smiled. “The usual boring stuff.”
The wariness faded. “I can probably handle it.”
“I’m sure you can. I just wanted to let you know it might be a real drag.”
Francesca didn’t want to back Kelly into a corner. If she was enthused about her family, then Kelly would have to take the opposite side and instantly hate them. The girl had a defense ready to go in every situation.
Instead, she had decided to make it all sound like an imposition. Kelly’s natural reaction to be stubborn meant she might actually want to like the Grands. Francesca had a feeling that an afternoon at the Marcelli hacienda just might shrink the massive chip on Kelly’s shoulder.
She saw the arched entrance to the Marcelli property. As she turned under the arch and onto the long paved road, Kelly swung around and gaped at her.
“You’re Marcelli Wines?”
“Sort of. My grandfather owns the winery, not me, but this is where I grew up.”
“Drinking wine?”
Francesca laughed. “Sometimes.”
“Wow!”
Kelly turned in her seat, glancing first to the left, then to the right. Grapevines stretched out for acres. It was the first excitement she’d shown since arriving nearly a week before. Francesca was thrilled.
“So these will be wine soon?” Kelly asked.
“Sure. I think so.” Francesca glanced out her side window. “I’m not the expert. If you have any specific questions, you should talk to my sister Brenna. She’s the one who knows everything.”
Kelly asked a few more questions, then fell silent when they rounded the corner and she saw the three-story Spanish-style hacienda. The pale yellow structure was topped with a tiled roof. Wrought-iron balconies decorated the front windows, and a porch circled the entire structure. Coordinating outbuildings lay in the distance.
Francesca pulled to the side by the multicar garage her parents had built when their daughters had started driving their own cars.
Kelly turned to her. “Your family is rich. Why don’t you have money?”
Francesca laughed. “My grandfather is rich. He’s the one who owns the winery.”
“But when he dies, doesn’t this all go to the family?”
“That’s a complicated question.”
