Page 31 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

I half-sighed, half-laughed at that.

“I was thinking about the food waste,” I admitted.

“Isn’t it against the health code to donate it?” he asked, likely knowing about that since some of his cousins ran restaurants and event venues.

“And that’s where you sayFuck the law, pack up the food, and hand it out to the homeless. Guerrilla charity is better than no charity at all.”

“I have to agree with you on that, I guess. But I wasn’t wrong on the original point.”

“I’m notthatinsufferable,” I said, actually finding myself a little insulted. Which was weird. I never really gave a damn what people thought about how dedicated I was to my causes. What the hell was the point of a life if you didn’t, in some small way, try to make the world better?

“I wouldn’t say insufferable,” August said. “You’re… passionate.”

“Then why call me a pain in the ass?”

“Because you are,” he said, smiling. “Two things can be true at the same time.”

“Right. Like you being halfway decent but also a dick.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, still smiling. Which was irritating. “Oh, snickerdoodle, you’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to get a rise out of me. I grew up with four brothers; I’ve heard a lot worse.

“I mean, they have so much material to work with,” I teased, but this time, I was smiling too.

Do you ever consider that you’re just prickly in an attempt to keep people away who are too sensitive to be in your inner circle?

My father said that to me once.

And, you know, it was valid. Even if I, yes, prickled at the suggestion.

“That they do,” he agreed. And, damn him, you had to appreciate a man who was capable of owning up to his flaws.

“Angel, your phone keeps lighting up,” Aurelio called, making me jump to my feet, thinking it was the hospital. That my father was awake.

Hope swelled, a weightless, easily deflated thing.

I learned this when I reached for my phone and saw Sheryl’s number there.

“I’m okay,” I answered, knowing she would have seen the store when she came by for her usual morning coffee after she fiddled in the garden for a few hours.

“Oh, my God!” Sheryl exhaled. “What happened?”

“The shop was closed for the night. I was in the back getting ready to do some baking. And… they broke in.”

“Did they… are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Physically,” she clarified.

“Yeah,” I agreed, aware of eyes on me and ears tuned to me.

“Emotionally…”

“Hanging in. My father—“ I started, but got a head shake from Aurelio and a cut-it-out motion from August.

“He’s got to be furious!” Sheryl said, saving me from having to backpedal.

“Yeah, we don’t know what is going on,” I said.

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