Once Upon a Moonlight Night (The Bella Novella Collection Book 1) Page 3

  “More artsy.’ She pointed at her outfit. “I don’t know if you ever watch me do the weather, but I try to mix it up. Take a creative slant. I don’t play anything straight, which is why they hired me. I’ve even been known to sing the weather forecast.” She giggled. “It’s my theater background.”

  Yep. This would be a theatrical production, no doubt about it. Still, as I pondered the weathergirl’s plans, as I tried to envision snowflakes, stars and twinkling lights, I had to admit. . .it all sounded rather magical.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Night and Day

  Weather forecast for tonight: dark.

  George Carlin

  After meeting with Justine at Club Wed, I picked up the kiddos from my parents’ house next door and headed home to Casa de la Neeley, my place of refuge. In the years since D.J. and I had become Mr. and Mrs., this house had become a home. First, for the two of us. Then, along came Tres and little Rosie. Then, the twins.

  Now the old Victorian stood, not as a testament to my husband’s amazing carpentry skills, not a nod to my love of decorating, but a tribute to our rowdy family of six.

  Hmm. Family of six. If anyone had told this little Italian girl that she’d end up married to an east Texas cowboy from Splendora Texas with four rambunctious children, she would’ve said they were nuts. Having been raised in a large family, I knew the drawbacks, but I also knew the joys. Now, I had to confess: the more, the merrier.

  Not that we were planning to have more. Um, no. I barely had arms enough to carry the four I had, at least for now.

  I trudged up the front steps with Holly on one hip and Ivy on the other, Rosie tugging at the hem of my blouse and Tres tagging behind us, playing a game on my phone. The phone rang just as I stuck the key in the front door. No point in bothering to answer it now, not with my arms so full.

  Tres took care of that for me. I heard his cheerful, “Hello?” from behind me just as I stepped inside, followed by, “Mama, phone!”

  I set the twins into their pack-and-play in the corner of the living room and reached for the phone, unsure of who I’d find on the other end of the line.

  “Hey, girl.”

  Ah. Scarlet.

  “I just wanted to double-check something. How many guests at the Collins wedding? Two- fifty?”

  “More like three-fifty.” I glanced at the front door, realizing I’d left it wide open. “It’s going to be a tight squeeze, getting everyone inside the reception hall, and don’t even get me started on how we’re going to fit that many chairs in the gazebo area. But these two are very popular.” My purse slid off of my shoulder and bumped Rosie in the head. She let out a cry and I knelt down to kiss her and make it better.

  Tres raced across the living room and dove into a pile of toy trucks. Rosie dried her eyes and followed behind him.

  “I didn’t realize what a big deal the bride and groom were until I mentioned the wedding to my grandmother.” Scarlet said. “Apparently the fiancé has a real following and the bride was listed as one of the Top Ten Most Influential Females in Texas. Did you have any idea?”

  “Yeah, I did. It’s going to be a doozie of a night, that’s for sure. And we need to be on the lookout for media types.” I took a seat on the sofa, keeping a watchful eye on the four kids.

  “Paparazzi? Scarlet giggled. “You really think they’ll show up?”

  “Girl, you weren’t here when Brock Benson was best man in a wedding I coordinated. We had paparazzi in force.” I kicked off my shoes and stretched my feet, happy for a moment or relaxation. Well, until Rosie started crying because Tres wouldn’t share his trucks with her.

  “Well, yeah, that’s Brock Benson, though,” Scarlet said. “He’s famous. Hollywood star, and all that. But, a local weather girl and a geeky science guy? I guess I just hadn’t considered them stars.” She giggled. “See what I did there? Stars?” Another laugh followed.

  “We just need to be prepared. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing, but you never know. Sometimes my worries are a prediction that something’s going to happen.”

  “Predictions?” She laughed. “I see what you did. But you’re no weather girl, Bella. I wouldn’t place too much stock in those predictions. . .er, worries.”

  Rosie let out a loud squeal and I looked up to discover D.J. had entered the house. One look at my handsome husband—those gorgeous twinkling eyes, the broad shoulders, the messy blonde hair, and I felt like swooning. Not much had changed over the years. The guy still took my breath away.

  He gave me a “Hang up the phone and come give me a kiss” look and I felt my cheeks growing warm. “Um, Scarlet? I have to go.”

  “Yeah, me too. Armando’s taking me out to dinner. Sounds like we’ll be doing a lot of that once Rosa and Laz leave.”

  “Have fun.”

  I ended the call and set the cell phone down on the coffee table, right next to a couple of stuffed animals and a Tonka truck. As I rose and stretched my back, D.J. opened his arms. . .an invitation. I took several steps his way, finally leaning in to him, comfortable in his loving embrace. A few sweet kisses in my hair and then his lips met mine for a lingering kiss.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Rosie called out and D.J. swept her into his arms. The three of us stood together until Tres joined us, the party growing to four. From across the room the twins squealed with glee from inside their pack-and-play. In that moment, the most delicious feeling swept over me. Every dream I’d ever dreamed had come true, and all because God had blessed me with the perfect-for-me-guy.

  My thoughts reeled back in time. I’d fallen in love with my husband, D.J., the minute I saw him. Our meeting didn’t have anything to do with the sun, the moon or the stars. It had everything to do with a huge misunderstanding. I thought I was hiring a deejay for a wedding. Turned out, a handsome east Texas cowboy named D.J. ambled his way into my heart. . .and nothing had been the same since.

  My honey kept a watchful eye on the kiddos while I prepped dinner—a salad and my favorite soup, Pasta Fagioli. We managed to get through the meal and bathe the kids, all-the-while talking about the upcoming wedding. By the time we settled into bed, exhausted from our evening ritual, I had a feeling D.J. would rather watch a show than listen to me ramble on about a celestial-themed ceremony, but he humored me anyway.

  “Okay, D.J., here’s the thing.” I opened my laptop and searched for the file for the Collins wedding. “I really need your help. With the whole starry night theme, they’ve asked something special regarding the song list. Armando will act as deejay, but he’s not going to be very helpful choosing the kind of music we’re talking about. It’s out of his element.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “The only thing we’ll be shooting is stars,” I explained with a playful wink.

  “Say what?” My hubby gave me a curious look and leaned back against his pillows. I found myself momentarily distracted by him—that chiseled physique, the abs of steel—hard-earned from his work in construction. Mmm. Any girl with half a brain would toss the laptop over the side of the bed and forget about working.

  “What were you saying, honey?” D.J.’s words caused me to snap to attention.

  “Hmm? Oh, they’ve asked that every song have the word sun, moon or stars in it. Well, that, or something to do with the weather. Like stormy weather.”

  “Stormy Weather?” He pulled the blanket over his legs. “Not much of a wedding song.”

  “Right, and that’s half the problem. Justine put together a list of meteorologist-approved tunes, but half of them don’t have the romance angle. They’re gonna be hard to dance to.”

  “So….” He yawned. “I’m supposed to be on the lookout for shooting star songs?”

  “With the appropriate romantic angle, if you don’t mind.”

  “Right. Romantic.” He quirked a brow and gave me a ‘come hither’ look. I shifted my focus back to the computer. “I’m just so panicked about getting all of this done in time. With Rosa and Laz gone. . .
” My words drifted off as my enthusiasm waned.

  “Why are you so bugged about Rosa and Laz going away?” D.J. asked. “If anyone deserves a break, they do.”

  “Right. I guess I just. . .” I released a slow, exaggerated breath. “I don’t like change, D.J. I’m a creature of habit.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, it feels good to know that, day in and day out, the people I love are always right there at my side. We’re a team. You know? And it’s just not the same when some of the team members are missing.”

  He paused and I wished I could read his thoughts.

  “I’m still saying Rosa and Laz need time away,” D.J. said at last. “To rediscover each other. Spend time with just the two of them. It’s important to their marriage. You know?”

  Uh-oh. Now we weren’t talking about Rosa and Laz anymore, were we?

  I set my laptop aside, leaned over and gave D.J. a little peck on the cheek. He pulled me close and kissed me soundly. “We need a vacation, too, Bella-bambina,” he said, his words soft and inviting.

  I couldn’t help but smile as he called me by the nickname.

  “A vacation?” Hmm. Sounded lovely. Unrealistic, but lovely.

  His lips traveled down my neck and onto my shoulder, then met my lips once again, the kiss deepening in intensity.

  Oh my. Who needed to work? Not this girl.

  From the other room, I heard one of the twins let out a cry. I ignored it. Then the other twin joined in.

  D.J. stopped kissing me and gave a little shrug. “I’ll make you a deal.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “You look up star songs and I’ll take care of Holly and Ivy.”

  Alrighty then. “You’ve got a deal.” I gave him a little wink, convinced I could handle this. I scoured my search engine and before long found myself lost in a sea of star-songs. Well, until D.J. showed back up with Holly in his arms.

  “She wants Mommy.” He set her on the bed between us and I gazed into her eyes, still moist from crying. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  Holly bounced my way with an exuberant “Mama, Mama, Mama!”

  Time to close the laptop.

  I might be a working mother, but right now I just needed to be a mama. Stifling a yawn, I opted to lean back against the pillows. As I cradled my daughter in my arms, a dizzying haze settled over me, a foggy coma-like state. I couldn’t move if I wanted to, not with exhaustion now eking out of every pore. Instead, I allowed my eyes to flutter closed and drifted, drifted, drifted off to dreamland.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Full Moon and Empty Arms

  “But who wants to be foretold the weather? It is bad enough when it comes, without our having the misery of knowing about it beforehand.”

  ― Jerome K. Jerome

  When an Italian family member plans a trip to the Old Country—aka Italy—the entire family gets involved. For instance, I don’t think Rosa even got to pick out which under-garments she wanted to pack. Mama insisted on a shopping spree to Houston, where she helped Rosa select all new unmentionables. Not that anyone in the Rossi family considered anything “unmentionable” – or private, for that matter.

  The visit to Houston’s famous Galleria consisted of women hovering around the satin and nylon panties, oohing and aahing over the various cuts and colors. This, according to my younger sister, Sophia, who seemed a little creeped out by the adventure, especially when Mama insisted on a new negligee in a lovely shade of red for our elderly aunt.

  “Can you even picture Aunt Rosa wearing that?” Sophia whispered as we gathered on the veranda that final Saturday in November to see Rosa and Laz off on their journey. “Rosa? In a sexy red nightie? Ick!”

  A shiver wriggled its way down my spine. Might’ve had something to do with the weather. We were experiencing a drop in temperatures, as Justine so aptly called it. A cold front. Or maybe the shiver had more to do with Sophia’s comment. I certainly didn’t want to picture my aunt and uncle in their bedclothes—or lack thereof—any more than I wanted to imagine my parents being intimate. Gross. I pinched my eyes shut to avoid thinking about it.

  Then again, if the older folks had never been intimate, none of us would exist, so maybe I’d better get over it. I opened my eyes just in time to see the front door of the Rossi home swing open. Laz and Rosa bounded out, one after the other, followed by my three brothers, who all lugged large expensive suitcases, heavy numbers that looked indestructible.

  “They got new luggage, too?” I asked. “Those new Tumi bags must’ve set Laz back a ton.”

  “The Food Network sent them as a gift,” Sophia explained.

  “For Christmas, you mean?” Surely they weren’t meant to be a retirement gift. . .right? Someone would’ve told me if Rosa and Laz were thinking about quitting their show.

  “I dunno.” Sophia must’ve been thinking along the same lines. She leaned my way to whisper the next part. “I can’t picture either of them ever retiring. You heard that their producer turned this whole month-long trip to Italy into a work project? They’ve been commissioned to photograph their favorite foods and interview cooks along the way. They’re traveling with a cameraman.”

  “No way.” Maybe I should’ve been bothered by that news—after all, Rosa and Laz deserved their privacy—but it brought some degree of comfort to know that they weren’t planning to give up their show any time soon. Breaking with tradition was hard. Very hard.

  “Yeah, but look on the bright side. The trip is now being funded by the network, right down to the expensive luggage.” She pointed at the Tumi bags. “There are worse gigs, I suppose.”

  “Still, to never be able to break away from your work? To only ever go around the clock, even during a season like Christmas, when you’d hoped to spend time with your family?”

  Oh. Ouch. Suddenly I wasn’t concerned about Rosa and Laz anymore. I thought about D.J.’s admonition that I worked too hard. Put in too many hours. Spent my “at home” hours focused on weddings and not on the things that mattered.

  Looked like I came from a long line of over-achievers. People who didn’t know how to say no.

  I refocused my attention on Laz, who gave Nick, Joey and D.J. instructions for how to maneuver the bags down the front steps. For the first time I noticed my uncle wore the strangest get-up: plaid pants that looked pajama-like, and an overly casual t-shirt. Rosa grumbled at him as he fastened a nametag on one of the suitcases.

  “I asked you to change into something decent,” she said.

  “I'm out of bed and dressed,” he grumbled. “What more do you want?”

  “I’m just saying you could have put a little more thought into what you’re wearing, that’s all.”

  “I put a lot of thought into it. We’re going to be on a plane for fourteen hours and I want to be comfortable.” He released his hold on the luggage tag and flashed a smile as he spoke to the whole group of us. “Speaking of comfortable, did you hear that the Food Network got us seating in First Class? We’ll be in a pod.”

  “A pod?” Pop looked confused by this.

  “Yes. I saw pictures online. It’s the strangest thing, but the seats are in little private areas that look like pods.”

  “I just hope they’re putting you on an airplane and not an alien spaceship.” My father laughed and reached for one of the bags. “Better double-check that pod before you climb into it, Laz.”

  My uncle promised to do just that.

  Still, I couldn’t have put it any better: two peas in a pod. Rosa and Laz. Perfect description of the two of them.

  From inside the house I heard Guido—the family’s colorful parrot—crooning a Frank Sinatra tune. My Way. Wow. I’d never heard him attempt that one before. Must be Rosa’s influence. Laz must’ve heard it too. He stopped in his tracks, glanced back at the door and sighed.

  “Do me a favor, Imelda.” He reached to give my mother’s hand a squeeze. “Give that bird a steady dose of Dean Martin songs while we’re gone. I�
��d like to see him reformed by the time I get home.”

  “Didn’t we try to reform Guido once before?” Pop asked.

  True, that. When Guido first arrived at the Rossi home, he cursed like a sailor. Laz’s attempts to train the bird in the ways of the Lord had failed miserably. Well, mostly. Guido had mastered a few scriptures, but always seemed to mix them up with a warbling rendition of 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. At least he’d conquered That’s Amore.

  “Yes, well. . .At any rate, promise you’ll take good care of my Guido.” Laz’s eyes misted over. “Feed him every morning and don’t forget his allergy meds. If you skip a dose, he’s liable to lose his feathers again. Oh, and remember, we just had his wings clipped.”

  “We’ll do fine, Laz.” Mama rolled her eyes. I knew her take on that bird. She’d rather not have him in the house. Still, putting him outdoors would never do, especially during the winter season. The poor fella’s beak would freeze shut.

  On the other hand, my mother would probably like that proposition. At least the little guy wouldn’t drive her crazy singing all day.

  Ah well. I would ease her mind by taking Guido to Club Wed. He loved it there.

  “Oh, I know you love Guido too, and will take great care of him.” Laz’s eyes misted over. “Just don’t want you to forget that he needs a balanced diet of veggies, grains, seeds, nuts, fruits. . .all the things we love, basically. Nothing processed. Nothing high in sugar or fat.”

  “So none of that tiramisu I left in the fridge.” Rosa laughed.

  “Rosa, have I ever given that bird anything with sugar in it?” Mama rolled her eyes. “Why would I start now? Surely you two know that you can trust me with Guido. I haven’t killed him yet.”

  “It’s just that I’m usually the one to take care of him,” Laz said. “So I’ve left a detailed list. A little birdseed is fine, but not too much. He likes fruit best. And nectar.”

  “Nectar?” Pop asked. “Should I give him a swig of my Christmas brandy?”

  “Cosmo!” Rosa fanned herself. “Guido does not do well with mind-altering remedies. Remember that time we gave him an antihistamine? It made him loopy.”