Unforgotten by Kristen Heitzmann Read Free Book Online Page B

pocket. “Ready?”
    “Do I need Mace?”
    “Not if you’re with me.”
    She’d expected him to scoff.
    “If we were touring Rico’s street, I’d arm us both, but this is Little Italy. You’ll be fine as long as you can say ciao and eat fish on Friday.”
    She shook her head. “No way I’m passing for Italian.”
    He grinned. “You don’t have to.”
    The knots in her neck loosened as he took her down the streets, dated and colorful with signs and awnings printed with the names of the shops. The stores themselves were tiny, some selling only one thing, like the D’Auria Brothers pork store with sausages that were mixed and dried right there hanging from the ceiling. Sweet or hot. That was the choice. And the two brothers who ran it had taken over from their father, who opened in 1938.
    Her chest clutched at the thought that she had sold her father’s renovation business, especially since Brad said the new owners were not living up to Dad’s standards, to her own. That business with her dad and hero, Vernon Barrett, had been her life until his accident. Now she had an inn—and a new partner.
    She had known what to expect from Dad. No one in the world had been more predictable, more grounded in routine. But even he had surprised her. Lance was a live wire, a short waiting to happen. What should she expect from him? Nothing. She would depend on herself. That was the Rese Barrett she knew; not the stranger wearing earrings and looking too much like her mother.
    She returned her focus to the neighborhood Lance wanted her to see. Addeo and Sons sold bread and biscotti. DeLillo’s had mini cheesecakes, a rolled cream-filled pastry called cannoli, little cakes and tarts. Egiddio’s Pastry was hardly more than a long glass counter of cookies, but nibbling the cookie Lance handed her, she could see why.
    “ Ciao, Lance.” Two gray-haired men waved from the sidewalk outside the fish market, beside a portable counter with clams and lemon wedges to buy and eat. They eyed her openly. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
    “The less she knows about you two the better.” But Lance turned to her. “Rese, this is Joe and Mario. Gentlemen, Rese Barrett.”
    Rese shook hands.
    Mario squeezed hers. “You settle on this girl, paesano . She’sa best one yet.”
    For a minute she thought he would kiss her, but he let go, and she breathed her relief. Stepping back, she caught sight of something moving— a barrel crawling with she-crabs, according to the label. “They’re alive.”
    “Sure,” Mario said. “Taste better that way.”
    She hoped they didn’t eat them alive, but didn’t ask. She’d been time-warped and body-snatched into another country, another century.
    Joe said, “There was that one with the green eyes.”
    “A crab?” Mario looked puzzled.
    “Not a crab. A girl. That one Lance brought up from the city, the long legs.” He motioned down his own. “Ankles like sticks.”
    “Oh yeah …” Mario nodded. “What ever happened to her, Lance?”
    “Moving along now.” Lance took her elbow and walked her past the laughing pair.
    “So long, Rese,” Joe called. “Buona fortuna.”
    “That means good luck.” Lance drew her around a man hosing down the sidewalk outside his doorway.
    She glanced sideways. “Do I need it?”
    “Doesn’t hurt.” A poorly muffled car passed in a cloud of dark exhaust. He drew in a slow breath through his nose. “Ah. Summer in the city.” He waved to a compact matron with a pushcart whose face broke into a sea of wrinkles as she called, “Buona sera.”
    No wonder Lance had gotten along with Evvy, Rese mused. Most of the people he knew were over sixty—except the girl from the city.
    She cocked her head. “Green eyes, huh? Skinny ankles?”
    He smiled, looking straight ahead.
    “Blonde or redhead?”
    He pondered a moment. “Kind of both.”
    “Reddish blonde, or a blonde and a redhead?”
    He shrugged. “It’s hard to keep them straight.”
    She