Page 18 of The Woman in the Hollow
“At the risk of sounding juvenile here… gross.”
That got a genuine laugh out of her just as we moved into the kitchen.
The sound had my mother turning, catching us together, and smiling to herself.
“Do you need any help in here?” Hazel offered.
“Oh, aren’t you a dear?” my mom asked. “But no. I’m almost done. Dante, why don’t you take Hazel out back and show her the lovely path to the fountain garden that you so generously provided from the garden center?”
“That youstolefrom the garden center,” I clarified.
“Tomato to-mah-to. Take the girl out back and show her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, giving Hazel a shrug.
“That’s a good boy,” she said, patting my cheek as I poured a glass of wine for Hazel, then pulled the back door open for her.
“So, does her cooking taste as good as it smells?” she asked as we stepped outside.
“Better. Way better.”
“I’m glad I didn’t go with tight pants. Wow, this is magical,” she said as we moved off the back porch and onto the cobblestone path.
Since the last time I’d seen it, my mother had someone in to install posts that she’d strung lights from on each side ofthe path, making a romantic trail through her flowerbeds and toward the water feature she’d made all of us kids help her build when we were young.
“Yeah, it is.”
“And your mom is going tobankruptthe garden center when she redoes all this in the spring.”
“I’ll probably need a whole truckload of annuals just for her. Though she has cut back some of the gardens to make room for playgrounds and such for the grandkids.”
“There were a lot of kids in there.”
“Oh, no. That was nothing. Most of the kids are in the basement. Ma converted it into an indoor play area. Got a whole kitchen, a grocery store, a mini movie theater, an art station—you name it.”
“Was she like this as a mom?”
“No. I mean she did everything for us. But she was a strict ‘toys in your room’ kind of mom. But that was likely more our old man and his demands for a clean house.”
“What toys were you into as a kid?”
“I was a builder. Building kits were my thing. Cars, houses, boats. I built Valley a whole dollhouse. Well, Ma bought the dollhouse. But it was plain wood. I painted, tiled, added furniture.”
“Well, that makes sense.”
“How so?”
“I mean, your vision for the garden center. Are you some sort of architect?”
“No.” But I’d considered that when I was a kid, before I understood the Family business. “I work in imports. But I do plan to work on some future projects like the garden center.”
Luca, the boss of the Family, was happy with the ease of washing our money through the garden center. Sure, we had the docks, which did have a lot of legit imports, allowing us to cleana lot of money. But we always needed to diversify. Like with Lucky’s pizza chain, like Famiglia, the wedding venue, and now the garden center. I was already keeping an eye out for future opportunities, maybe ones that would let me flex more creative building muscle.
“Oh, wow. I see why she wanted you to bring me out here,” Hazel said when we reached the fountain.
Both strands of lights came together behind the fountain that sat in an alcove of raised flowerbeds with perfectly shaped greenery all around, creating a private—and, yes, romantic—oasis.
“Who has thrown the pennies in?” she asked, turning to look at me.
