The Sparkling One Read online

  On her way to the front door Katie glanced at her answering machine. No flashing light announced the delight of a waiting message. Obviously Zach Stryker had manfully resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to call her and beg her to return to his office where they would make love on his designer leather sofa.

  Once in the driveway she stowed her luggage in the trunk, then slipped into her Sebring. The convertible top opened, then folded neatly behind the backseat. An adjustment of her radio from NPR to a rock station completed her travel ritual. It was time to go home.

  By three o’clock she’d crested the hill that marked the line between L.A. and the valley. The exit to the 101 freeway was on her right. Katie slipped into that lane, all the while singing along with a song about broken hearts and holding on.

  Her car phone rang.

  Katie hit a button on the console, muting her radio and activating her hands-free microphone.

  “Hi,” she said, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind and the sound of the other cars.

  “Oh, good. You’re in your car,” her youngest sister, Mia, said, sounding delighted. “I was calling to make sure you’re still coming home this weekend.”

  “I’m already on my way. How’s school?”

  “Good. I’m settling into my classes and getting ready for midterms.”

  Katie frowned as she followed the curving interchange. “Didn’t you just start the quarter?”

  Mia sighed dramatically. “Tell me about it. I love UCLA, but the quarter system is so tough. I barely figure out what the class is about and suddenly it’s time for midterms.”

  “And despite the pressure, you dazzle us all with your straight A’s.”

  “I try.” Mia giggled. “Guess what? There’s gonna be an announcement at dinner.”

  “Announcement?” Katie eased into the fast lane and concentrated on the minivan in front of her. “Good or bad?”

  The Marcelli family had a tradition of announcing news at large family gatherings. Once everyone was seated and the meal had been served, the pronouncements began. Confirmations of births, blights, and illness were made, along with surprises, some welcome, some not.

  Katie quickly considered the possibility of damage to the vines, but it was only February. Everything was dormant.

  “Good,” Mia said with another giggle. “Very good.”

  “Want to give me a hint?”

  “Not really. So how was your Valentine’s Day?”

  Katie remembered the quiet evening she’d spent in front of her tiny fireplace. She’d celebrated one of her favorite days with a bottle of champagne, Godiva chocolates, and a romance novel.

  “It was perfect,” she said honestly.

  “Was there a man involved?”

  “Nope. I’m currently blissfully single.”

  Mia sighed. “Katie, you know that means trouble. If you’re not seeing anyone, the entire family is going to jump all over you this weekend.”

  “I know.”

  The Marcelli family might be incredibly close and loving, but they were also rabid about marriage and kids. At twenty-eight and still single, Katie wasn’t just considered an old maid, she was thought to be unnatural and in need of serious therapy.

  Which she didn’t want to think about. “So how was your Valentine’s Day?”

  “Fabulous.”

  Katie pictured her sister’s petite yet curvy figure, her streaked blond hair and doe eyes. She grinned. “Let me guess. Forty-seven guys wrestled for the honor of buying you dinner.”

  “No. I just saw David.”

  “You’ve been seeing him for a while now, haven’t you?” She vaguely recalled a good-looking kid breezing through at Christmas.

  “Uh-huh. Since September. He’s really special, Katie. We’re in love.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Katie said, speaking the truth. She was two parts thrilled and one part envious. When was the last time she’d been in love? Not her previous boyfriend, or the one before that. They’d been great guys, but not the one.

  “I should let you concentrate on driving,” Mia said. “See you in a couple of hours.”

  “I’ll be there. Give my love to everyone.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  The connection clicked off. Katie pushed the button to restore her radio, but instead of joining in with the song, she shook her head. Mia in love? Was her baby sister really old enough to fall for a guy?

  She laughed. Mia was eighteen. In the Marcelli family that was the perfect age for a short engagement, followed by a long marriage. Katie’s other sisters, Francesca and Brenna, had both married at eighteen, although Francesca was now a young, beautiful widow. Katie herself had been engaged at eighteen, although the marriage had never taken place.

  Whispers of the past threatened, but she wasn’t interested in spoiling her drive, so she ignored them. Instead she cranked up the volume on the radio and fantasized about a certain lawyer she’d recently met. He might be fifteen kinds of bad for her, but he sure knew how to make her body burst into flames.

  A wrought-iron arch announced the entrance to the Marcelli Winery. Hundreds of acres of vineyard stretched out on both sides of the two-lane drive amusingly named Pleasure Road. Come summer, the plants would be thick with leaves and budding fruit. In September, right before harvest, they would hang low with heavy, ripe grapes, but now, in February, they were simply gray and bare.

  As Katie drove under the arch, she noticed that the winter pansies flourished. The dozen or so flower-filled half barrels surrounding the base of the arch were filled with colorful blossoms waving in the soft breeze. She could inhale the scent of flowers and earth, and the ocean in the distance.

  The road to the main hacienda was nearly three quarters of a mile. Up ahead the three-story, pale yellow hacienda stood at the end of a long driveway. Wrought-iron balconies decorated the front of the structure. Katie didn’t have all that much interest in growing grapes or making wine, but she considered herself a real fan of the Marcelli family home. So many happy memories lingered in the corners and crevices of the old place. So much history filled each of the rooms. Coming back always made her feel good.

  She pulled up next to the large house, parking her car next to Mia’s five-year-old Accord. A beat-up pickup sat on the other side, which meant Francesca had also come home for the weekend. Brenna would be arriving later. Katie smiled in anticipation. The four sisters hadn’t been under the same roof since Christmas, nearly two months before.

  She’d barely popped the trunk when a side door opened and Francesca strolled out.

  “I figured you’d be the next to arrive,” she said with a wave. “Brenna won’t be here for a while. She had to take Jeff to the airport.”

  “He’s not coming for the weekend?” Katie asked, more than a little disappointed. She, along with her sisters, adored Brenna’s husband. He was funny, affectionate, the brother they’d never had.

  “Nope. He had to go to some doctor convention.”

  “I can’t believe he’d rather go there than hang out with us.”

  “I agree. I mean, we’re charming and we have unlimited access to pasta. What’s not to like?”

  The two women laughed, then embraced. Katie hugged her sister hard, holding her close for a second. When they released each other, she tried not to notice how great Francesca looked in her white cropped T-shirt and pale blue skirt.

  Francesca had always been the pretty sister…pretty and nearly physically perfect. She was perfectly tall (5 feet 9), perfectly slender, with that annoying combination of large breasts and nonexistent hips. Her perfect features—wide hazel eyes, a full mouth, and cheekbones that defied gravity—combined to create a face that could not only launch a thousand ships, it could heal several debilitating personality flaws. Long, thick brown hair tumbled down her back, while perfect, olive-colored skin seemed to radiate light.

  All of this and a brain, too, Katie thought with a combination of love and pride, flavored with a touch of sibling rivalry
. Katie had always been the smart sister, but Francesca’s success in her Ph.D. program demonstrated there were fairly efficient brain cells firing behind those big eyes.

  Katie grabbed her suitcase. “Poor Dad and Grandpa Lorenzo. They always look forward to Jeff’s visits. He keeps them from feeling outnumbered by the women.”

  “They’ll survive, but I’m not sure we will,” Francesca said as they walked to the back door and stepped into the utility room. “You need to brace yourself. There’s an estrogen fest going on in the kitchen. The Grands are on a roll and Mom is only making it worse. If you don’t keep your distance, your ovaries may mutate.”

  Katie smiled as she dropped her suitcase and purse. She stepped into the kitchen and took a deep breath.

  “Hi!”

  Three women stood around the central island of the massive kitchen decorated with hand-painted tiles. Dozens of bowls, casseroles, and pots filled every inch of counter space that wasn’t already holding fresh produce and homemade pasta.

  Three heads turned, three pairs of eyes widened in delight, six arms reached for her. Katie found herself being engulfed in a hugging competition designed to snap at least two ribs, while making her feel she was the most important person on the planet.

  “Katie, at last! We were so worried. The long drive. A young woman alone. Who knows what could happen?”

  Her paternal grandmother pinched her cheek hard enough to leave a mark. Katie smiled, even as her eyes watered from the pain. “Grandma Tessa,” she said warmly. “If you stopped worrying, what would the saints do with their time?”

  Grandma Tessa, born and bred in Italy, dismissed the blasphemy. She was used to it from all her girls.

  Katie’s mother, petite and stylish in a designer suit, sans shoes, cupped her face. “You look thin. Katie, you’re a beautiful young woman. You don’t need to starve yourself. Are you dieting again?”

  Katie kissed her soft, pale cheek. “I swear, I’m not dieting. In fact, I weigh exactly the same as I did the last time you saw me, and the time before that.”

  Colleen O’Shea Marcelli harrumphed, obviously unconvinced. “I think we should talk later. When your father and I were in San Francisco, we met the nicest young man. He’s a sous chef in a restaurant up there.”

  Francesca stole a slice of cheese. “I thought all chefs were gay.”

  Grandma Tessa brought the cross on the rosary around her neck to her lips. “Francesca, God did not make you so lovely on the outside so that you could have such a dark heart. Katie needs a man. For that matter, you need a man.”

  Francesca looked at Katie. They both rolled their eyes.

  Finally Katie turned to the tiny woman still holding her arm. “Grammy M,” Katie said, her voice warm with affection. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m grand. The sun feels good on these old bones. I’ve no complaints a’tall.”

  “You’re not so old,” Katie reminded her. “Besides, I’m counting on you living forever.”

  Mary-Margaret O’Shea had been born in Ireland and married at seventeen to a young man she’d only met twice. Less than two weeks after the wedding he’d taken her away from home and family, bringing her across the ocean to a great new land. They’d eventually settled in California.

  Grammy M squeezed her hand. “I’m plannin’ on it, darlin’.”

  “So,” Katie’s mother said, expectantly. “If you’re not interested in the sous chef, does that mean you have someone special in your life?”

  Katie looked at Francesca, who stuck her finger down her throat and silently gagged.

  Katie knew she had two choices. She could tell the truth—that she wasn’t seeing anyone and that she was perfectly okay with that. Only no one would believe her. Instead her grandmothers and mother would fuss and chide and torture her for the entire weekend. They would bring up names of men who had never married (and once they reached forty without tying the knot, how couldn’t there be something wrong with them?), men who were recently divorced, even men who were thinking about divorce. They would talk about her growing old alone, about the odds of finding a man after she turned thirty. They would try to love her into submitting to the family credo of “marry young and have many babies.”

  Or she could lie.

  While she generally tried to tell the truth, desperate times and all that.

  “I recently met the most amazing guy,” she said.

  The Grands did a second swooping thing, while her mother beamed.

  “Tell us everything,” she insisted. “What’s he like?”

  “His name is Zach Stryker and he’s a very successful lawyer.”

  “Ooh, a man with a profession,” her mother said happily. “So he has money.”

  Katie didn’t have a clue, but unless Zach spent every weekend redecorating his house at the Neiman Marcus home store, he should have gobs. “Sure. He’s gorgeous and charming and I think he’s really special.”

  Francesca nearly choked on her cheese. Katie tucked her hand behind her back and crossed her fingers. “He hired me to handle a big fund-raiser for his firm. It’s a huge job and it’s going to put my company onto the ‘A’ list, but that’s not nearly as exciting as meeting the right guy, you know?”

  Francesca still stood behind the Grands. Now she chewed the last bit of cheese and wrapped her hands around her throat, as if strangling herself. Katie knew she was laying it on a bit thick, but she was on a roll.

  She sighed heavily. “The man is a hunk.”

  Just then footsteps clattered on the dining room hardwood floor. Katie was almost disappointed by the interruption. She could have done another five minutes on the unlikely virtues of Zach.

  Everyone turned toward the sound as Mia burst into the kitchen.

  As usual, she was dressed in jeans and a cropped shirt. Her highlighted hair looked more blond than brown, although the roots were showing, the way Mia liked it. Heavy makeup emphasized her brown eyes. She looked like a makeover gone bad, and yet so lovely and full of life that Katie couldn’t help smiling.

  “You’ve got to start blending,” Katie said, crossing to her youngest sister and hugging her. “That’s why God invented Q-tips.”

  Mia puffed out her glossy lips, then gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’m still experimenting to find my style. We can’t all be perfect like Francesca or together like you.” Mia fingered Katie’s cardigan. “I mean, you match, for God’s sake.”

  Grandma Tessa fingered her rosary. “Mia Theresa Marcelli, your mouth shames the entire family.”

  Mia dropped her head in mock surrender. “Sorry, Grandma. I didn’t mean to take the Lord’s name in vain.”

  Never one to stay contrite for long, she quickly straightened. “Is Brenna here? I really, really want to tell everyone my news. Where are Dad and Grandpa Lorenzo?”

  “They’ll be back for dinner,” Grandma Tessa said. “You’ll have to wait.”

  Katie grinned. Telling Mia to wait when she wanted something was about as productive as attempting to change the Earth’s axis. No matter the effort, not one thing shifted.

  “Oh, sh—” Mia glanced at her paternal grandmother and quickly modified her word choice. “Oh, shimmy! I’ll just tell you, and then we can tell everyone else when they get here.” She frowned.

  “Have you been working on your plan to rule the world?” Katie asked her youngest sister. “Remember, I’m only going to organize it. You’re in charge of world domination.”

  “Not today.” Mia drew in a deep breath, then spun around once. She clapped her hands together and grinned.

  “I’ve got the best news. I’m getting married!”

  2

  Their mother and both grandmothers swooped down on Mia like peregrine falcons diving for a hapless mouse. Katie laughed as her baby sister was alternately squeezed, kissed, cheek-pinched, and cooed over.

  Mia held out her left hand, showing everyone her simple diamond solitaire.

  “Very nice,” Katie said, leaning in for a glance.
/>   “Married,” Grandma Tessa said with obvious delight. “To that nice boy, David? He’s not Italian, but he’s very handsome. Is the family Catholic?”

  “Mama Tessa, you worry too much,” Mom said as she kissed her daughter’s forehead and brushed her streaked hair off her face. “My baby is going to be married. I’m so happy.”

  Katie watched the show and fought tears of happiness. “Way to go, Sis,” she called when Mia looked at her. “Make the weekend all about yourself.”

  Mia grinned. “I’m really excited, Katie.”

  “That’s all that matters.”

  Francesca pushed off the counter she’d been leaning against and joined the affection competition. “Congratulations, Mia.”

  “Don’t be sad,” Mia implored, grabbing her hands and squeezing them. “Please, Francesca.”

  “I’m not sad,” her sister protested. “I’m thrilled for you.”

  Katie knew Francesca was telling the truth, even if the Grands wouldn’t believe it. Eight years ago, right on schedule, she and Brenna, her fraternal twin, had been married in a lovely double ceremony. While Brenna was still happily married to Jeff, Francesca had become a widow at the tender age of twenty-one. Busy with getting an education, Francesca preferred staying single and independent. A philosophy that violated everything the sisters had ever been taught.

  Grammy M clapped her hands for silence. “When is the wedding to be?”

  A hush fell over the kitchen. Francesca and Katie glanced at each other. Katie remembered the fund-raiser she’d just agreed to organize and tried not to panic. Not soon, she thought silently. The fund raiser was going to take all the free time she had.

  Mia reached for a cherry tomato and popped it into her mouth. “We’re not sure,” she said after she’d finished chewing. “This summer. Probably sometime in July.”

  Katie did the math. The fund-raiser was at the end of May, which meant if the wedding was in mid-July, there would be only six weeks left. Which meant she wouldn’t be sleeping much between now and then.