Page 6 of Absinthe Minded

Evelyn pursed her lips and shook her head. “Irish Catholics arehardlythe same.”

“How is Maggie doing?” I knew better than to ask, but my curiosity had always gotten me into trouble.

My mother’s temper went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat. German engineering had nothing on Evelyn Marchionni.

“She’s too young to handle three kids. Your father and I are taking her back to court next month. I don’t know what Rebecca and Joe were thinking.” She paused to do the sign of the cross after mentioning my brother’s name. “Our lawyers think we’ll win this time. She’s two months late on her mortgage. What are we supposed to do? Throw our own grandchildren out on the street?”

“It’s not a mortgage. You gave Joe and Rebecca the house as a wedding gift.” I ran my hands over my head. Joe had made his wishes clear, but since when did something as trivial as a last will and testament ever stop my parents?

“Yes, but she insisted on paying rent.”

“You and Pops have no business taking money from Maggie.”

“That’s a matter for your father.” Her chin rose.

I knew better than to fight this battle, not when I had my own problems. From all reports, Maggie had done a great job with the kids. It’d kill her if she lost custody.“Don’t be so hard on her.”

“Hmmph.” Evelyn pulled the baby from her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Let’s go see Grandfather. He’s going to love you. Another baby girl to spoil.”

“It’d be better if you watch her while I talk to him—”

“Nonsense. You made this mess. You’ll deal with the consequences.” My mother marched me toward my father’s study as if she were taking me before a firing squad—solemn with a chaser of doom. She rushed inside with Ella, leaving me to watch from the door. “Look what your son has brought home. Poor thing. Her mother left her on the doorstep like a bottle of milk.”

Giuseppe Marchionni Sr.—aka Papa Joe—went wide-eyed for half a beat before he smiled.

Evelyn held the baby out to my father and smirked. “I told him he should stay here. He needs help. With the hours he keeps, he can’t raise a baby.”

I sighed, which drew my father’s attention. I didn’t dare grin, instead I hung my head and walked into the room. “Hey, Pops. Sorry to spring this on you and Ma. I found out about her today.”

If the fact I’d become a father surprised him, he hid it well. “What did you name her?”

“Her mother named her Gabriella Antoinette. She doesn’t have our last name, but I intend to change that.”

Joe Sr. grinned at Ella. A rumbling laugh started in his gut and spilled into the room. “Is that right,mio piccolo rosa? That’s a big name for a little rose.”

“I call her Ella.”

“Where’s her mother?” Joe’s voice remained playful, even if his words didn’t.

“She works on a cruise ship. She left today. Said she’s not coming back.”

Joe’s mouth fell open and snapped shut. “Have you called our lawyer?”

“Not yet. I’ll speak to Santiago tomorrow.”

“Get this taken care of.” Joe glanced at his wife. “Eve, leave us to discuss business.”

Evelyn scooped the baby from his arms. “Before I go, since my other grandchildren will be under this roof soon, so should Ella.”

No Marchionni had ever moved back home, and I wouldn’t be the first. My brothers would never let me live it down. “Ma, I just need a little help getting started. I can and will handle this.”

She continued speaking as if she hadn’t heard me. “If Gabriel’s man enough to get some girl pregnant, he’s man enough to fix his mistakes. I think he needs to track her down and make this right.”

Not believing my ears, I whipped my head back and forth between them. “No freakin’ way.”

“This is how you speak to your mother?” My father narrowed his eyes. “Sit down.”

I’d come here for help with the baby—the same baby Chantal had abandoned. I’d be damned if I allowed anyone to force me to marry a woman I couldn’t stand. All I had to do was drop the name Chantal DuBois, and all talk of marriage would end. My father despised her for a myriad of reason, some I knew and some I didn’t. Then again, my parents were old-school Sicilian. My mother could guilt the devil into turning down the heat, and my father held the deed to my bar and the strings to mine and my brothers’ finances.

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