Page 62 of Princess Seeks Dragon

“What about selling the house in Bayside?” Angela asks. “Surely that’s—”

“An asset the FBI will be liquidating, along with pretty much everything else. Even if we could go back, I wouldn’t risk it,” Mrs. Argento sighs. “Ronnie says he wouldn’t be surprised if the place blew sky high if we were to go back. No, better to sell the place and save the neighbors. I’ll miss all my shoes. And my earrings.” She smiles, the corners of her eyes wet. “But I would rather have you two than all the earrings in the world,” she concludes with a shuddering sigh.

For a minute, there’s silence. I don’t know what to say. “The taxes here are very low. And the rents are good, too. My brother and I came over a few years ago with nothing but money for rent, a truck, and some tools. But look at us now. Of course, Vanessa’s money helped buy this house. That’s my sister-in-law.”

“Oh, sweetie. She looks so sweet. Such a pretty girl. I’ve always wanted Angie to have a sister. This is the next best thing!” Mrs. Argento sounds genuinely cheerful.

“You know what I always wanted to do?” Ronnie says, one hand propped under his chin, eyes distant.

“What, Dad?” Angie asks, rubbing his hand that rests on the table.

They beam at each other every time she says that. “You forgive me, kiddo?” he whispers.

“Yes. But if you get killed, I’m going to be mad at you,” Angela answers, voice thick.

“Hear, hear.” Joanne bangs on the table. “Now, what is it, Ron? What did you want to do?”

“Open a nice little Italian place. You know the kind with checkered tablecloths and candles in wine bottles? Sixteen tables, only open Thursday through Sunday, something like that. A hobby restaurant, where we make and serve good food. Your mom’s lasagna, Angela. My nonna’s veal marsala.”

“You know, this town is wonderful, but as I was telling Angela, it doesn’t have any Italian restaurants unless you count the pizza place near the college.”

Ronnie’s face lights up. “Is that right? Well, we’d do pizza, too, but the real wood-fired stuff.”

“The only one lit by dragons,” Angela laughs.

“What, honey?” Ronnie asks.

“What, Angie? Her mother raises her eyebrows.

“Sweetheart. They’ve had enough for one day. We’ll tell them in June,” I lean down and whisper in her ear.

“What’s in June?” Angela asks.

“Our wedding.”

Chapter Twenty: Treasured

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