Brenna led the way into the kitchen. Zach was surprised to find it bustling with activity. The taller of the two grandmothers-Tessa, he thought-stirred something at the stove, while Mary-Margaret O’Shea kneaded bread dough. Neither woman noticed them.
Grammy M, as Katie called her, used her forearm to brush back a loose curl. “I’ll be needin’ the oven, Tessa. When I’ve finished with the bread, the sweet rolls will be wantin’ to bake.”
Grandma Tessa peered at the temperature setting. “It’s ready now.” She started to say something else, but spotted him and Brenna instead. “Zach, how good to see you.”
She abandoned her efforts at the stove and hurried toward him. Between his briefcase and the stack of files he carried, he didn’t have a free hand. Not that he would be able to ward off her enthusiastic greeting. He was summarily hugged, patted, and cheek-pinched. Grammy M-so tiny she barely came up to his chest-followed, although she only squeezed his arm instead of his cheek. They both spoke at once, one offering tea, the other Italian cookies, or maybe a nice dish of pasta. The combination of warm Italian staccato and lilting Irish brogue should have jarred his ears, but he’d grown used to the odd melody.
“Nothing for me, thanks. I’m fine,” he said, depositing his briefcase in a chair and his files on the table.
They both ignored his statement. Within a minute a steaming cup of tea had been set at the head of the table and right next to it was a plate piled high with cookies. A mug of tea was pressed into Brenna’s hands. She cradled it as she took a seat next to his. Zach settled into the chair obviously assigned to him and reached for his paperwork.
Grandma Tessa and Grammy M hovered by the table. He glanced at the bread dough now resting in a covered bowl, then at the stove. Nothing else appeared to be cooking. And whatever Grammy M had put in the oven was there to stay for a while. He hesitated, not used to conducting business with an audience, but Brenna didn’t seem to notice. Finally he glanced at his client.
“Will we be in the way here? Should we move to another room?”
Brenna roused herself enough to shake her head. “I like the emotional hand-holding. Besides, they’re going to find out everything anyway,” she said quietly. “Having the Grands here will mean two less tellings of the story. You’re lucky the whole family isn’t attending.” She glanced at her watch. “Katie’s not coming because she’s busy with work, but Francesca should be here any minute. Not that we have to wait for her. I didn’t tell Mia because she’s busy with finals this week and I didn’t want to upset her.”
He had a couple of socialite clients who brought their rat dogs to meetings, and a famous actor who traveled everywhere with a publicist, business manager, and assistant, but very few people had a familial entourage. Somehow he thought the Grands were going to be a whole lot more helpful to Brenna than a pet or a personal assistant.
Zach was about to begin when Colleen Marcelli walked into the kitchen.
“Have I missed anything?” she asked, moving first to her daughter, where she bent low and kissed her cheek, then to Zach. She lightly touched his shoulder and gave him a warm smile before taking the seat across from Brenna and settling in to listen.
“We’re just starting,” Brenna said.
Colleen nodded. She was a well-dressed woman in her mid-forties, although she looked much younger. She’d inherited her mother’s blue eyes, along with Grammy M’s delicate build.
“I thought it best not to include your father,” she said, nodding when Grammy M offered tea. “You know how much he can yell. Marco and your grandfather are already talking about altering Jeff’s manhood-such as it is.” She sighed. “I didn’t think any of us needed to hear the details again.”
“I’d rather not,” Brenna said ruefully. “Everyone welcomed him into the family when I married him, but now all I hear is how you all had your suspicions.”
Colleen nodded sympathetically. She stretched her hand across the table to squeeze her daughter’s arm. Zach waited it all out. He was used to emotional clients-sobbing, even fits of rage weren’t uncommon in his line of work. Compared with that, a quiet, rational family looking on was no big deal.
He cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Grammy M put a cup of tea in front of her daughter, then took a seat at the table. Grandma Tessa did the same, but instead of liquid refreshment, she brought a basket with her. He eyed the container, wondering what on earth they could be planning-and then he knew.
Sure enough, lace flowers were passed around. Bowls of beads and seed pearls were set in the center of the table, and all the women, even Brenna, started sewing.
Light caught the tiny beads. Female fingers worked with a sure swiftness that came from hours of practice. Zach didn’t want to think about what the lace was for, so he returned his attention to the business at hand-namely Brenna’s divorce-and sorted through the files he’d brought.
He glanced at her. “Take a deep breath and relax,” he said gently. “Most of what we have to discuss is fairly standard. The only unusual issue to turn up so far is that Jeff is claiming half of your share of the winery.”
He braced himself as he spoke, knowing he’d just dropped a bomb on the entire family. As expected, conversation exploded around him. He didn’t bother to compete, instead letting them express their outrage. Grandma Tessa sprang to her feet and announced that her late father-inlaw (God rest his soul) had started the winery, breaking the ground with his own bare hands, and no lying, cheating-She began muttering in Italian. Grammy M’s eyes narrowed in an expression of fury that made Zach want to inch away. Colleen looked just as ready to skin Brenna’s soon-to-be ex-husband, while Brenna simply appeared stunned.
When the talk died down, he turned his attention to his client. “This is a ploy. Jeff and his lawyer want to distract us from the real issue-namely how long you supported Jeff through his medical training. Any inheritance you received wouldn’t be considered community property unless it was commingled in some kind of joint account, with joint funds.”
“That bastard,” Brenna snapped. “He never cared about the winery.
“This is a divorce,” Zach told her. “Fair or right doesn’t enter into it. This is all about money. Unfortunately, fighting his claim is going to chew up a lot. Was there an inheritance?”
“Not a penny,” she said flatly. “Nothing has been turned over to me, and unless Grandpa Lorenzo has changed his will, nothing ever will be.” Her mouth twisted. “He’s giving up on a male grandson and holding out for a male great-grandson.”
Grammy M leaned close. “Darlin’ Brenna, don’t you worry about this. The little ferret won’t be gettin’ so much as a single grape from this place.”
Brenna nodded at her grandmother. “I know, but I can’t believe he’s doing this.”
“As I said, Jeff wants to divert our attention from the real issue. I’m not going to let that happen. I’ll let his attorney know there wasn’t any kind of inheritance. He’ll push back. Be prepared for that, but don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it. If that’s the best they’ve got, we’re in the clear.”
He picked up a second folder.
The back door opened. A blond-haired woman in jeans walked into the kitchen. She was tall and slender, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. Instead it was the tattoos covering nearly every inch of exposed skin. There was even a small blue star by the corner of her right eye, just under the silver ring piercing her eyebrow.
The young woman laughed, then planted her hands on her hips. “Obviously it’s working. Hello! It’s me.”
The grandmothers laughed, while Colleen rose to embrace the young woman. Brenna set down her sewing and studied the visitor.
“I thought the fat suit was next,” she said.
“It was, but then I saw this guy with tattoos and it gave me an idea.”
Grandma Tessa sighed heavily and dug in her pocket for her rosary. “For this God gave you the face of an angel? Did you color your hair? Francesca, it was so beautiful.”
Zach blinked. Francesca? He tried to reconcile the tattooed woman in front of him with the sister he remembered. He supposed the shape of her face was familiar.
Brenna leaned toward him. “I know it’s strange, but you’ll get used to it. Francesca is studying social psychology. Her doctorate explores how people react to appearance. She spends her day shocking people.”
