Luca nodded. “Yeah. Truck brought it all to our warehouse a couple of days ago. I’ve already started cleaning it up with smoke-damage products. You were smart to get those pieces to us quickly. Gives us a better chance of saving them.”
The upper two floors had been mostly saved from burning but had taken a major hit in terms of smoke and water damage. They’d removed the antique pieces Pop Pop had collected over the years with Grandma Sunday that they hoped to restore, renting a moving van for delivery to Philadelphia. Luca was considered one of the best on the East Coast, when it came to refurbishing old furniture, while his twin brother, Gio, was known for his talent for building from scratch—recreating pieces that couldn’t be saved.
Dad led them all over to the folding table and chairs they’d set up yesterday for this meeting. On the table was a large stack of photographs, compiled by the entire family, showing different aspects of the pub and restaurant as it had been.
For the next two hours, the six of them sorted through the pictures, discussing what items Tony thought they could find online to purchase—the booths, tables, chairs, vintage glassware, and a lot of the décor fell into that category—and what they would have to build to match, the primary thing being the long mahogany bar. Gio, a master craftsman, assured them he could recreate the bar right down to the scuff marks and scratches if they wanted.
Oliver’s phone pinged and he glanced at the screen.
“It’s from Gavin,” he said, reading the text. “Apparently he was late leaving the last work site. Said there was an incident with his pants and he had to run home. Wants me to tell you guys he’s sorry he missed you,” Oliver said, glancing up at Tony. He wasn’t alone in thinking the Moretti boys were sex-on-a-stick hot. Gavin was going to be pissed he didn’t get to check out the eye candy.
“Tell him we said hello. We’ll all christen this place with a few pitchers after it reopens,” Tony said.
The heaviness Oliver had been feeling upon first arriving had lifted over the course of the meeting. Between the plans J and K Construction had in place in terms of creating a brand-new, state-of-the-art kitchen for Riley and the guarantees of the Morettis that they could restore the pub, could make it look exactly like it had before the fire, actually had him excited to see the end result.
They were just finishing when Riley showed up.
“There are my boys,” she said, walking over to the table to hug Tony, Luca, Joe, and Gio. Since her son, Finn, had started dating Layla, Aunt Riley had claimed the Moretti brothers—whose mother passed away when they were younger—as her own. “So what do you think?” she asked, gesturing at the pictures.
While the family had reassured her countless times that the fire wasn’t her fault, the tightness in Riley’s shoulders and the haunted look in her eyes proved she hadn’t managed to shake the guilt she felt.
“When we’re finished, no one will have a clue there’d ever been a fire,” Tony assured her.
“I’d like that. A lot. So,” she said, “are you finished here?”
Dad nodded. “Yeah, I think we’ve covered it all.”
“Good,” Riley said, “because I’m here to kidnap my Italian Stallions. I’ve got a huge pot of chili and a pan of homemade cornbread with your names all over it. Thought the least we could do was feed you lunch before sending you back to Philly.”
Joe wrapped a friendly arm around Riley’s shoulders. “Oh yeah. Not about to say no to that offer. Don’t tell my aunt, but your cooking is the best on the East Coast.”
“Aunt Berta would have your head if she heard you say that—and cut you off from her lasagna forever,” Tony joked.
“That’s why I said don’t tell her.”
They all laughed.
Before they could say their goodbyes, Erin showed up.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said from the doorway. “I was afraid I’d miss you.”
Tony walked over and picked up his younger cousin, giving her a big bear hug. “Hey there, squeaker,” he said, using his nickname for her. Oliver had asked about it once and been told that when Erin was little and she got overly excited, she made a little squeaking nose, while scrunching up her face and pressing clenched fists against her mouth.
After that, he and Gavin had nagged her relentlessly until she’d demonstrated it for them. Now it had become a running joke, he and Gavin imitating it whenever they got excited about something.
Joe joined Tony and Erin, wrapping his arm around her neck to ruffle her hair as she tried to bat him away.
“Dammit, Joey. You’re messing it up. I gotta go back to work,” she said, though she was laughing.
“That’s what you get for not calling me Joe,” he said, the response a standard. Apparently he was Joe to everyone in the world with the exception of his family, who insisted he would always be Joey to them.
Oliver reached over and tugged Erin away from her cousin, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Stop messing with my girl.”
Joe slapped him on the back. “Good man. Like the sound of that. Feel better about Layla and Erin living in Baltimore, knowing the Collins men are around to keep an eye on them.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “Sweet Jesus, Joey. Caveman much?”
“Easy there, cuz. If Aunt Berta heard you using the Lord’s name in vain, she’d wash your mouth out with soap,” Gio warned.
“Feel like I want to meet this Aunt Berta,” Riley mused. “Get the feeling we’d be good friends.”
Tony feigned a shudder. “Not sure the world is ready for that friendship.”
Erin laughed. “I concur. And while I said I left Philly for the job, the main reason was so I could expand my cursing vocabulary without fear of Aunt Berta’s bionic hearing.”
“Unless, of course, Pop Pop is around,” Oliver
