Page 24 of Empire of Temptation

“But . . .” I wasn’t sure. “Does it fit?”

“Val.” Maggie turned me to face her, hands holding onto my shoulders. “You like things to stay the same. I get it and I understand why. But you can’t hold onto the past through signs and chicken parm.”

I felt my eyes starting to burn again. I stared at Maggie helplessly, but my friend was rock steady. As always. “I’m being silly.”

Her smile was kind. “No, but you are being given a gift that almost any restaurant owner would kill for, especially one who has worked as tirelessly as you have the past few years. Embrace it. Change can be good for you.”

I sighed. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now, introduce me to your bespoke friend.”

Oh, I’d forgotten about Roberto. Wiping the edges of my eyes, I shifted to Maggie’s side. “Roberto, meet a very good friend of mine, Maggie Fiorentino.”

“Of the Fiorentino wines?”

“Yes.”

He inclined his head. “Buongiorno, signorina. A pleasure.”

Maggie didn’t crack a smile. “You’re the one who thinks my red table wine sucks.”

“Margaret!” I hissed. “You promised.”

Roberto seemed undaunted, his expression cool. “I mean no disrespect, Signorina Fiorentino.”

“But you don’t like it.”

If I thought Roberto was too polite to quibble, I was dead wrong. He said, “There is no acidic backbone. Perhaps it is a personal preference.” He shrugged, which somehow managed to come across as charming instead of asshole-ish.

“I’ll show you no backbone,” she muttered under her breath, then turned and started for the truck.

“Wait, where are you going?” I called. Was she leaving?

“I’m grabbing the wine for book club.”

Oh, shit. I forgot about book club! That was tomorrow night.

“Book club?” Roberto asked.

“Yeah, it’s the first Saturday night of every month. We always host it here. With everything going on, it totally slipped my mind.”

“The restaurant is open on Saturday nights, no?”

“Yes, but we usually start around nine, after the dinner rush. Not that it matters tomorrow because we’re still closed.”

With his wrinkled brow and flat expression, his disapproval was evident. “Is this a good idea? The remodel is not yet complete.”

“It’ll be fine. We hardly ever break anything.” Roberto’s olive skin lost its pallor, his eyes going wide, so I hurried to say, “I’m kidding! It’s six or seven women, sitting around gossiping and drinking wine. And after the sign surprise, you and my secret investor owe me.”

He held up his palms. “I will return inside, signorina. There are more CVs to read through before our server interviews begin this afternoon.”

Roberto strode to the front door and disappeared into the restaurant. I shifted to look at the sign again.

It wasn’t terrible. It was actually nice.

But Investor Daddy and I needed to have a serious conversation. Too much was happening too fast. New chef, new kitchen staff. A maître d’. The restaurant my mother had loved and labored over, her legacy, mygrandfather’slegacy, was slipping away from me. I needed time to adjust.

“Stop freaking out and help me with this wine.” Maggie shoved a crate into my arms.

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