The Man, The Ring, The Wedding. Patricia Thayer

turning his attention to the file. He knew that Angelina ran the office at Covelli and Sons. And according to Mark, she’d been enthusiastically pursuing the renovation job since Rossi International had purchased the property early last year.

      John sat down in the chair. He had to say he was impressed after meeting the Covelli brothers. And they were experts in the field of restoration. The only other person who might have been better at this craft had been their father, Rafaele Covelli. And he’d been killed in a construction accident over two years ago.

      John tossed the manila folder on the desk. How many times had he read over the same file the last four months? So many he had memorized it. But he wanted to know everything about the Covellis. More than he needed to know to hire them for the job.

      It was how John Rossi did business. He’d learned it was the safest way to make sure people didn’t take advantage of him. Not only in business—but more importantly, in his personal life.

      He glanced back at the file. And this wasn’t just business to him, it was personal.

      The phone rang. He leaned forward and picked it up. “Rossi here.”

      “Buona sera, Giovanni.”

      “Buona sera, Nonno,” he answered. His spirits brightened hearing his grandfather’s voice. “How are you feeling?”

      He heard a groan over the line. “I’m an old man. How should I feel?”

      John grinned. This was the grandfather he knew and loved. But he was getting old, too old to run the vineyard alone. “Then let me get you some more help and you can retire. Come live with me in New York.”

      “I’ve grown grapes all my life. A man needs a purpose .”

      “But a man needs some relaxation, too.”

      His grandfather sighed. “You should take some of your own advice. You’re always working—and always alone.”

      John and his grandfather were close. Though he was raised by his father’s parents in America, John had always felt a special bond with his mother’s family in Italy. Nonno Giovanni had been the one who taught John to cultivate the soil, to nurture grapes for the best harvest. And though John had taken over his American grandfather’s business empire, Rossi International, memories of his summers at the vineyard would always bring him happiness. No matter what the distance, John and Giovanni had fostered their special relationship.

      But when John had gone to Italy this past harvest, his grandfather had looked more tired than usual.

      “How do you know I’m alone? Have you been sweet-talking information from my secretary again?” Donna Charles had worked for Rossi International for over twenty years. She was invaluable and knew all the ins and outs of the corporate world. But she also talked too much to his grandfather.

      “A bella woman, Signora Donna. She only tells me what I need to know. One is that you aren’t taking care of yourself.”

      “I could say the same about you,” John argued. “That’s the reason I’m glad you’re coming for the holidays.”

      “Sì, and we can argue about this again.”

      “You are stubborn, figlio.”

      “Something I inherited from you, no doubt,” John mumbled. “I’m looking forward to your visit. In fact, I’m planning on being finished here so we can have a long uninterrupted vacation together.”

      “I would like that.” There was a long sigh. “We both spend too much time alone. And before I die I would like to see New York again.”

      “You’re not going to die for a long time.” Even though his grandfather was seventy-six, as far as John knew the man was in good health. “I have to get back to work. I will call you next week. Ciao, Nonno.”

      John hung up the phone and wondered what he’d gotten himself into. For years he’d seen his grandfather’s misery and always wished he could do something about it

      Were they so alike? In a lot of ways, sì. They both had trouble with women and relationships. His Nonna Lia had left Giovanni a few years ago, saying he had neglected her for years. That her husband had always belonged to another.

      John had survived his own pain. It had been a few years, but the memory burned in his gut like an out-of-control fire every time he remembered Selina’s betrayal. When he’d met her he had fallen hard and he’d thought everything he’d always longed for was within his grasp. He’d have the family he’d wanted since his parents’ death. Then he discovered that Selina only wanted the prestige of being married to Rossi International’s CEO.

      Since then John had given up on love; it seemed a steel-coated heart was a family trait. He would concentrate on business instead.

      However, for his grandfather, and to be honest, for himself, John wanted to find answers to questions which had been hanging over his family like a dark cloud for as long as he could remember. What he was looking for could be right here in Haven Springs.

      

      The next morning, John carried his suitcase and laptop up the stairs to the second-story apartment. He used the key Rafe had given him to unlock the door. Once inside he was pleasantly surprised at the spaciousness of the place. The gray-blue-carpeted living room had a new sofa and two chairs. The kitchenette had a large table where he would have room for his work and still be able to eat. He examined the new cupboards, impressed by the fine detailing that was the Covellis’ signature. Everything they did seemed to show a little extra care.

      He went into the bedroom and found a queen-size bed covered with a navy comforter. The bathroom was large and had been completely redone with all new fixtures, including a double shower.

      “Not bad.” John opened his computer case, then found an outlet and plugged in the cord. In no time, he had hooked into the phone line and sat down to bring up his e-mail.

      A crash from the outside hall drew his attention. “What the hell?” he said, hurrying across the room and opening the door to find Angelina Covelli on her hands and knees, surrounded by grocery bags.

      She gasped. “What are you doing here?”

      He leaned against the doorjamb, loving the wide-eyed expression on her face. “I believe I rented this apartment.”

      She sat back on her heels. “I meant I didn’t expect you to be moved in yet My grandmother asked me to bring over clean linens.” She pointed to the grocery bag. “And a few staples.”

      He eyed her fitted jeans and blue sweatshirt—with Angelina nearby what other “staples” could a man need? Angelina was a sweet diversion from business. But he couldn’t forget she was his business. He knelt down and began to help her gather food back into the sacks.

      “You didn’t have to bring me anything. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

      “Try telling that to Nonna,” Angelina said. “She insisted that I was to come here early and make sure the apartment got aired out and bring fresh sheets and towels.”

      John picked up the bouquet of dried flowers and caught a whiff of their sweet fragrance. He would forever connect this scent with Angelina Covelli. “Was it Nonna Vittoria’s idea to bring me these?”

      She glanced away. “They were from my grandmother’s garden. I just thought a little color would cheer up the place.”

      “Thank you. No woman has ever given me flowers before.”

      She arched an eyebrow. “Just don’t accuse me of trying to bribe you,” she teased, then turned serious. “I want to apologize for what I said yesterday. I was upset because you thought we were trying to get the job by appealing to your stomach with some home cooking. Rafe and Rick don’t need to do anything like that. I guarantee you won’t find better carpenters to restore your hotel.” She raised a hand. “And that’s the end of my speech.”

      John