The Man, The Ring, The Wedding. Patricia Thayer

addict and needed money to support his habit so he sold low-grade materials at top dollar, passing them off as premium goods. He’s in jail now, serving a ten-year sentence for manslaughter. He’ll probably get out on parole in a few years.”

      For some reason, John wished he could ease her pain. Strange, he hadn’t even known Rafaele Covelli. But he was getting to know his daughter... too well. “Can you handle that?”

      She shrugged. “Nothing can bring Dad back. And Dad wouldn’t want us to make our lives miserable.”

      “That’s a good attitude, but it may not always be easy to stick to,” John said.

      “Well, we’ve had years of practice with the curse.”

      “Curse?”

      She nodded. “For over fifty years there’s been a curse on our family. It started in the Second World War when Nonna was promised to one man, but was in love with another...my grandfather, Enrico Covelli.” Angelina shrugged. “The family of the man who was left at the altar put a curse on my grandparents. Ever since, Nonna has prayed that it would somehow end. Whenever something bad happens she feels she’s to blame for it.”

      John tensed. “Do you believe in this curse?”

      Angelina stared down into the fountain as the wind lifted her hair. “On bad days, it’s easy to use it as an excuse. But I don’t think that my father died because of a curse. Or Justin...” Her voice trailed off, just as John wanted her to tell him who this Justin was.

      Suddenly she was smiling again. “There’s also been so many wonderful things that have happened to our family. Like Rick striking it rich in the Texas oil fields and returning home after so many years. Both Rick and Rafe finding love. The success of Mom’s restaurant. The carpentry business coming back around.”

      He loved the way her eyes sparkled. How her mouth lifted at the corners. How she chewed on her bottom lip when she was nervous. “Sounds like the Covelli family is doing well. So you have everything you want?”

      “Oh, there’s always more to want.”

      He knew all about wanting, he thought as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a coin and handed it to her. “Then wish for it.”

      She looked at him, then down at the quarter. “Boy, wishes cost a lot these days.”

      “Inflation. Come on, make your wish.”

      “I’m not a child, John. I don’t believe things happen that easily. Besides, there isn’t any water in the fountain.”

      “Details.” He waved a hand. “Maybe it is that easy, and we only make it hard. What’s the harm in asking?”