Never Too Late Read online

  Nonna jutted her chin at her grandson. “She is okay. Leave me be, Antonio. I will sit here.”

  Katerina caught a look in Wendy’s eye, and then pulled out the adjacent chair. “Per favore.”

  The old woman’s eyes lit up and her hands clasped together at her chest. “Parle Italiano?”

  Katerina smiled. “Sì.”

  The grandmother’s frown reversed to a broad smile.

  “Come sta?”

  Nonna grinned and nodded as she wrapped gnarled fingers around Katerina’s hand. “You speak Italian well, young lady. I try to teach my grandchildren. Do you think they listen to me? Bah, they’re too busy sending test messages.”

  “The word is text messages, Nonna, not test.” Tony picked a chunk of bread off the white tablecloth and placed it on the high chair tray.

  Nonna shook her fist at her grandson before returning her dark gaze to Katerina. “What is your name, dear, and where are you from?”

  Katerina smiled at the curious woman. “My name is Katerina and I’m from western Germany, near the Moselle River.”

  As she examined Katerina, Nonna pressed one forefinger to her lips. “So you are German then. No male. Your accent is excellent.”

  “Thank you. I spent a lot of time in Rome and Venice, studying.”

  “I see.” Nonna settled into her chair. “You can’t help you’re German. You seem very nice. Are you married?”

  “Mama!” Camila Marino entered the room in time to hear her mother-in-law’s remark. Her hands full, she rapped her husband’s head with an elbow before setting the bowl on the table. “Francesco, do something about your mother.”

  Frank lowered the paper just enough to see over it and looked down the table at his mother.

  Katerina felt his gaze scrutinize her before he glanced at his mother.

  “Mama…you look very nice tonight, Mama.” The paper inched upwards and he disappeared behind it.

  ****

  After a quick shower and change of clothes, Alex raced down the staircase. He detoured into the kitchen, where he found an open bottle of wine breathing on the counter. He grabbed it and entered the dining room where conversation, as usual, was well under way. His parents sat at their customary places at opposite ends of the long, wooden table. Tony and Wendy, the high chair between them, sat on the far side. Wearing her customary black dress, Nonna sat next to Alex’s usual place.

  Another massive change in the last ten years… Not only had Tony returned home but his father’s mother had come to live with them after spending her entire life in Tuscany. With the addition of Wendy, and then baby Jaiden, family mealtime had become a circus. The days of quiet, relaxed mealtimes, spent sipping and evaluating their wine, were over.

  Alex stole a glance at his mother, smiling as her granddaughter chortled and banged a spoon on the tray table. Yes, a lot had changed for the family but his parents didn’t seem to mind one bit. He, on the other hand… He placed a hand on his father’s broad shoulder. “Try my Sangiovese blend, Pop.”

  Dropping the paper to the floor, Frank held up his wine glass. As Alex poured a small amount into the glass, Frank’s bushy gray eyebrows drew together as he peered at the shimmering, jewel-toned liquid. Bringing the tumbler to his chest, he studied it a moment, before positioning the glass next to the white tablecloth. “Beautiful color, son.” He swirled the wine as he brought it to his nose. “Nice bouquet.” He slurped noisily from the glass, holding it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. He set down the glass and slapped his son on the shoulder. “You have a good one here, son. Perfect acidity.”

  Alex flushed at the praise from his father, especially when he noticed their lovely visitor eyeing him with interest. He circled the table, filling glasses before sitting next to his grandmother.

  After filling his plate, Frank set the bowl in front of Alex. “Ah, spaghetti bolognaise, my favorite.” Frank winked at his wife.

  With a wide smile and a tilt of her head, Mila responded, “Frank, you know we have spaghetti bolognaise every Sunday.”

  “And it makes me very happy, my darling.” With a wave of his arm, he blew a kiss in his wife’s direction before turning to Alex. “How was your ride with Sam?”

  Alex accepted the bowl of pasta and tilted his head as his grandmother, chattering in Italian, pulled at his sleeve. “Great. Sam knows what I’m thinking before I know it.” He turned to his grandmother. “Nonna, you’re talking too fast, I can’t understand you.”

  His grandmother poked his arm with a crooked forefinger and inclined her head toward Katerina. “She understands me.” Suddenly leaning forward, his grandmother reached for the bread basket.

  Turning to reply to his grandmother, Alex froze, caught in the bright blue gaze of Katerina Bauer. Immediately, his thoughts flashed back to the moment in the bedroom when he had thought about kissing her, a woman he had known for less than an hour.

  “What’s the matter with you, scaring this poor woman to death with that big horse?” Nonna grabbed a large slice of bread.

  “I—” Before he got out the words, his grandmother turned to offer the bread basket to their guest.

  “I didn’t hear them coming,” Katerina explained quickly as she accepted the basket.

  “Your horse is spooky anyway.” Wendy spooned a small amount of spaghetti onto the baby’s plate. “The things Alex can do with him.”

  “He’s not spooky, Wendy, he’s very calm.” Annoyed at the implication that his well-trained Sam had faults, Alex frowned at his sister-in-law.

  “I didn’t mean he spooks; I meant what you can do with him. But then you’re an accomplished horseman, Alex, so I shouldn’t be surprised.” She fixed her gaze on Katerina. “Do you ride?”

  Alex poured a dollop of olive oil on a saucer and then dabbed in his bread. More and more, he realized why Wendy was so good at sales. She could turn anything into a compliment. He listened to the young woman’s answer to Wendy’s question.

  “No, I do not ride. I have never been on a horse.” Her head shook. “My father would not allow it. He was always afraid we would get hurt.”

  “Alex could teach you. He went to Abu Dhabi for the Young Rider’s Endurance Championship.” Wendy cut her daughter’s spaghetti into tiny pieces.

  “That was a long time ago,” Alex growled.

  “Yes but you’re still a superb rider. I’m sure you could help Katerina.” Wendy steadied the sippy cup just as the baby lifted it over her head.

  Alex flexed his hands under the table, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Wendy, not everybody wants to be helped.” He dropped his head and, wanting only to be finished and out of the room, dug into his food. Around him, the talk continued—from Wendy’s sister Colleen, who had just moved into their new house on the knoll at Berk’s Almond Grove, to Nonna’s arthritis, to his father’s need for a new suit. At least, according to his mother.

  Glancing across the table, he caught Wendy’s eye. Realizing she intended to continue their earlier discussion, he tensed. He glanced at his unfinished dinner, debating whether to make his escape. But the enticing scent wafting from the food on his plate was impossible to resist. He shoved a large forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and savored his mother’s cooking.

  Wendy wiped sauce from her daughter’s fingers. “Then at least introduce her to the animals. Maybe some evening the two of you can get together. She can ride my horse. Sunny is a great starter horse, don’t you agree, Alex?” She skewered him with a look.

  “Yes, Sunny is a great starter horse but—” Alex took another bite. The sooner he finished…

  “Great. You’ll love him, Katerina. He is such a sweetheart. And he matches our hair.” With a grin, she pulled at a curly strand of blonde hair.

  Alex took a quick glance at Katerina, whose face was, if possible, even paler than before as Wendy continued to encourage her to ride.

  Just then the dog, standing on the window seat with her paws against the glass, erupted with a fit
of barking.

  “Santo cielo.” Nonna placed her hands on the table and pushed back her chair. Trotting over to the window, she waved her hands at the dog, and then jumped from one leg to the other like a football player ready for the handoff.

  The dog jumped down from the window and got down on her front paws to play, rump in the air complete with wagging tail.

  Nonna lunged for the dog.

  The retriever scurried under the table.

  “Vattene.”

  The baby chattered in excitement, her head swiveling to follow the antics of the dog and the grandmother, as bits of sauce-covered noodles flew into the air from her tiny hands.

  “The dog speaks Italian?” Katerina leaned across the grandmother’s chair as she directed the question at Alex.

  “He doesn’t have much choice.” Alex smiled, again caught in her gaze. “You have beautiful blue eyes.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying.

  Katerina’s brow furrowed and she leaned closer.

  Everyone else was bent over, trying to coax the dog from under the table. The barking and shouting continued.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  Alex edged toward her. “I said—” At Katerina’s continued look of puzzlement, he looked around the dining room. The dog had come out from under the table next to his father. His grandmother followed the dog past the front window, shaking a towel and trying to chase her out of the room. Baby Jaiden waved a handful of spaghetti in the air, flinging a few tomato-coated noodles on Tony’s shirt. Just as his mother entered the room from the kitchen, he leaned closer to Katerina and raised his voice. “I said, You have beautiful blue eyes.”

  As soon as the statement left his mouth, the uproar ceased. His words hung in the sudden silence like wind chimes, echoing on the breeze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his grandmother freeze in mid-wave and turn slowly toward him, a huge smile on her wrinkled face. The golden retriever jumped onto the window seat and settled down, her chin on her front paws as if nothing had happened.

  Alex dropped his head into his hands. Soon soft hands patted the top of his head and his grandmother’s garlic-scented breath tickled his ear.

  “Alessandro, I bring you some pannetone, yes?” She bumped a hip against his shoulder and pulled his ear. “I bring some for you and your new girlfriend.” She giggled and trotted off into the kitchen.

  Face hidden behind his hands, Alex gritted his teeth. The last thing he needed was the Marino women setting him up with a clumsy, nonathletic bookworm who may or may not be a European wine taster. What was she doing here? When Alex raised his head, Katerina sipped her wine, her gaze glued to a picture of a horse on the far wall.

  Tony and Wendy crawled on the floor, cleaning up pasta from around the baby’s high chair.

  Alex looked over at his father still eating spaghetti bolognaise, his nose inches from his plate. Maybe nobody had heard his grandmother’s whisper. He cleared his throat.

  “Tony, would you bring in our moscato?” Mila reached for Katerina’s and Nonna’s plates and carried them to the kitchen.

  “Of course, Mom.” With a last glance at the floor around the high chair, Tony followed his mother into the kitchen.

  “Wipes aren’t working here. This is a job for good, old-fashioned soap and water,” Wendy announced as she studied her baby, covered with tomato sauce from head to foot. They too disappeared into the kitchen.

  Left alone with their visitor, except for his father, who had retrieved the discarded newspaper, Alex cleared his throat. “So, Katerina, how long will you be staying in California?”

  With a sigh, she set down her glass and turned to face him, her gaze cloudy. “I’ve agreed to stay until June.” Her lips pursed and with a slight head shake, she picked up a discarded bread crust and dropped it in the empty bread basket.

  Alex straightened and shot her a look. Was she staying here, in his home, for six months? Then her response and demeanor registered, and he had the distinct feeling she considered the six months more of a sentence than an adventure. “Have you been here before?”

  “No, I have never been out of Europe. As I said, my father was very protective.” She hesitated, her fingers smoothed along the tablecloth. “We didn’t travel much. He was always busy with our vineyard, and we three children were left on our own.”

  Wendy reappeared with the baby, face scrubbed and sporting a clean shirt. “If you take Jaiden off my hands for a minute, Dad, I’ll find something good to go with the espresso. Deal?” Wendy’s lips spread in a broad smile as she handed the toddler to her father-in-law.

  Jaiden reached for the man and patted his cheeks. “Poppy.” Her chubby legs stomped the newspaper into a crumpled heap.

  “Baby girl, you come with Poppy, eh?”

  At the sight, Alex shook his head. His sister-in-law could talk anybody into anything. He would never think of interrupting his father’s evening ritual of the newspaper business section and espresso.

  But Wendy did, and she’d arranged for this stranger to stay in their home for six months. Why all the changes? Life at the vineyard had been just fine before Tony and Wendy had reappeared with their new ways of doing business, their sales strategies. He drummed his fingers on the table, ready to push away and make his escape. And then he remembered the pannetone. He supposed he could endure the chaos a few moments longer.

  The three women reappeared through the swinging door, his grandmother bearing the fragrant cake proudly. She set a raisin-filled slice in front of their guest. “I make this with my own hands. It takes two days. But I don’t mind. I do it for my family, out of love.” She pressed a hand against her breast and dabbed at the corner of her eye with an embroidered hanky.

  Tony set the wine in the middle of the table, and then reached for a slice of cake. “We could buy this at the Italian bakery in Almendra, Nonna.” He sat and picked up his fork. “Doing that would save you a lot of work.”

  Just as he took a big bite, his grandmother rapped the top of his head.

  Catching Tony’s grimace of pain, Alex grinned and muttered just loud enough for his brother to hear. “Way to go, college boy. Not too smart.”

  Tony scowled in response. “Cut it out, Alex.”

  “Bakery cake is not as good as mine. I put my love into this cake.” She thrust her chin forward, her hands pointing upward. “The bakery cannot put love into their cake.”

  “Alex.”

  He chuckled at his dramatic grandmother and caught his mother’s eye.

  “Are you going to pour the moscato?”

  Alex looked across the table at his brother, who had set the opened bottle in the middle of the table, and now sat with the baby in his lap who stuffed cake into her mouth as crumbs fell onto the floor.

  “Of course.” Sure, let Alex take up the slack so Tony can do his own thing. So what else is new? He stood and again circled the table, filling the glasses with the dessert wine. He settled back into his chair and sipped at the light, sweet wine, savoring the familiar tang of citrus unique to his wine.

  “Thank you, son.” His mother gave him a loving smile as she reached for her glass.

  Unable to resist, he returned the grin. His mother always tried to keep the peace in the family.

  Katerina sipped her wine and then lifted the glass to eye the color. “This is delicious. Is it yours?”

  Alex looked around the table, waiting for someone else to answer their visitor. All were busy devouring his grandmother’s cake. “Yes. We are one of the few vineyards in California to grow the Muscat grape. We grow merlot and sangiovese as well.”

  Kat returned the glass to the table. “Are you the vintner?”

  With a glance at his father, still intent on his cake, Alex nodded. “My father and I, yes.”

  Kat’s brow raised and she nodded. “Very good, Alex. Impressive.” She glanced at Mila, sitting to her left. “My family owns a small vineyard along the Moselle River. We make a little wine, as we
ll.”

  Taking a bite of cake, Mila shook her head. “I handle the business end of Marino Family Vineyard. I leave the creative wine making to Frank and Alex. Does your mother help with the making of the wine?”

  Alex caught a brief shadow cross Katerina’s face and just as quickly disappear.

  She ducked her head and, in a quiet voice, responded to Camila. “My mother died in a car accident years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Mila set down her fork and touched Kat’s shoulder. “That explains your father’s concern about accidents then.”

  With a slight nod and a small smile, Katerina looked up at Mila. “Yes, yes, I suppose it does.”

  “What varieties of grapes do you grow?” Frank set down his fork beside his empty plate and studied their visitor. His plate empty, he picked up his moscato and sat back in his chair.

  “Mainly Riesling. We live on a hillside, which is particularly conducive to the Riesling grape.”

  “Yes, Riesling is a finicky grape, not happy planted just anywhere. You said you live near the Moselle River. I’m familiar with the area. An excellent Riesling comes from there. I would like to try your wine some time.” Frank finished his wine and then set the glass on the table, smacking his lips.

  With a decisive nod, Katerina smiled. “I will have my brother send me some.”

  Mila stood and reached for her daughter-in-law’s hand. “Now that we have finished our dessert, we will have some espresso. Wendy, come help me please.”

  “I can help.” Katerina set her hands on the table edge and pushed back her chair.

  Mila motioned for her to stay with a wave of her hand. “No, you relax. You are our guest,” and she beckoned to Wendy.

  Alex leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. His parent’s insistence on the old ways was pleasant occasionally, but sometimes Alex felt completely American and wanted nothing more than to eat and run.

  His gaze wandered to the attractive newcomer. Her pale complexion was flawless and her light blond hair, caught in a bun at the base of her neck, apparently long. Wondering how long, he jumped when Wendy set an espresso at his place, hoping she hadn’t caught him staring. “Thanks, Wendy.” Breathing in the heady scent of the strong coffee, he hoped the caffeine would jolt him from his daydreaming. He lifted the cup to his lips.