Secrets Of Bella Terra Read Online Free PDF

Rafe asked.
    His two brothers shook their heads.
    Noah said what they were all thinking. “Isn’t that enough?”
    Gavino Di Luca was Nonna’s only son, and at fifty-eight still too handsome for his own good.
    The questions had to be asked, so Rafe asked them. “Where is the old man? Why isn’t he here?”
    “He’s filming in Thailand. He was on the phone all the time until she was out of danger, but he can’t come home because of the schedule.” Noah’s cynicism felt like shards of glass. “Also, he’s got a new—”
    “Wife?” Rafe snapped.
    “Girlfriend,” Noah said.
    With a cynicism to match Noah’s, Rafe said, “Let me guess. She’s twenty.”
    “No, this is an older woman. She’s twenty-seven.” Noah smiled without humor. “He puts the
dys
in dysfunctional.”
    “Don’t we all,” Rafe muttered.
    “Exactly.” Noah spoke firmly—Rafe’s younger brother didn’t lack for confidence. “The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree. We’re the proof of that.”
    “Speak for yourself,” Eli said. “I keep my affairs private and I never get in over my head.”
    “You’re the sensible one, all right,” Noah allowed. By that he meant Rafe was not.
    So Rafe changed the subject. “Has the Di Luca family thought about donating one of those fancy ‘make everything’ coffeemakers to the hospital?”
    “It has to go through the hospital board first,” Eli said ominously.
    “So?” Rafe wasn’t following.
    “One of the Marinos heads the hospital board, and Joseph Bianchin’s involved, so . . .” Eli shrugged.
    The rivalry between the three families had originated long ago, and the three families had stubbornly carried it to America and through more than a century.
    “Why isn’t Joseph Bianchin dead yet?” Rafe asked.
    “If life was fair, he would be, but the old fart is still puttering along in his mansion, yelling at the kids when they steal his oranges.” Noah had been one of those kids, and Nonna had received a nasty phone call about that.
    “And the Marinos?” Rafe already knew the answer to that.
    “They’re still stealing Bianchin’s oranges.” Eli shook his head, half in admiration and half in disgust. “They’re stealing our grapes. They’re having parties that only break up when the cops arrive. They’re drag racing on the county roads. And that’s just the parents.”
    Rafe laughed, but Noah said, “It’s like having our own California Italian rednecks right next door.”
    “At least they’re consistent,” Rafe said.
    The Bianchins and the Di Lucas had been respectable families when they’d come across from the Old Country.
    Not the Marinos. They had been tossed out by the Italian authorities. They still had a chip on their shoulders about that, and about the fact they’d made their money during Prohibition making moonshine, running the cathouses, and owning dive bars.
    They still owned the bars. The other stuff had gone by the wayside. At least, as far as Rafe knew, it had.
    Noah poured another cup of coffee, sipped again, and groaned pitifully.
    “Maybe if we say we want to donate a coffee machine, they’ll do it?” Rafe suggested.
    “Maybe. Right now, the Marinos are pissed because the Di Luca Miele Cabernet Port beat them out of the gold at all the wine festivals.” Noah grinned at Rafe, then at Eli.
    “Nice.” Rafe nodded at Eli. “Been kicking ass, have you?”
    “I’ve done okay.” The words were modest. Eli’s tone was smug.
    “He’s been kicking ass all over California and Washington with his cabs and zins.” Noah didn’t mind bragging on his brother.
    Rafe glanced again at the hospital room door.
    It remained stubbornly closed.
    He wondered if Brooke was stalling, not wanting to see him, talk to him.
    But no. Not Brooke. Even as a scared kid that first day of school, she had set her chin and done what had to be done without flinching.
    For her, he knew, he was a task to be faced without flinching.
    Noah stepped right in front of