Free Blue Smoke by Nora Roberts Page B

He’s brilliant. Mama and Dad like him a lot.”
    “How about you?”
    “I do. He’s got style, which Bella likes, but he’s easy around the family, and slips into the rhythm when we’re here, or down at the shop.” Something wistful came into her face as she kept her hands busy unpacking Reena’s things. “He looks at Bella like she’s a work of art. I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she added. “It’s like he’s stunned by his good fortune. Most of all, he rolls with her moods. Which are legion.”
    “Then he has the seal of approval.” Reena walked over to the closet herself, drew out the mint green confection of a bridesmaid dress. “Could be uglier.”
    “Sure.” Studying it, Fran leaned on the jamb, folded her arms. “She could’ve gone with the puce. We’ll all look a bit sallow and silly next to her elegant radiance. Which is exactly the plan.”
    With a grin, Reena let the dress fall back. “Better than the pumpkin orange with the million flounces and puff sleeves cousin Angela decked us out in last year.”
    “Don’t remind me. Even Bella’s not that mean.”

    “Let’s make a pact. When our turns come around, we pick dresses for each other that don’t make us look like homely runners-up.”
    Fran put her arms around Reena, pressed cheek to cheek and swayed. “It’s so good to have you home.”
    S he walked down to Sirico’s at lunchtime, straight into the familiar scents and sounds.
    They’d done more than clean up and repair after the fire. They’d kept traditions—the kitchen area open to the dining area, the bottles of Chianti serving as candleholders, the wide glass display holding the desserts still purchased from the Italian bakery every day.
    But they’d made changes, too, as if to say they not only weren’t leveled by adversity, but would use it to thrive.
    The walls were a dusky Tuscan yellow now, and her mother had done dozens of new drawings. Not only of the family, but of the neighborhood itself, of Sirico’s as it had been, as it was now. The booths were a defiant red, with the traditional red-and-white-checked cloths covering the tables.
    New lighting kept the place cheerful even on gloomy days, or could be dimmed to add atmosphere for the private parties they’d begun booking over the last two years.
    Her father was at the big work counter, ladling sauce on dough. There were touches of gray in his hair now that had started weaving in during those weeks after the fire. He also needed reading glasses, which annoyed the hell out of him. Especially if anyone told him they made him look distinguished.
    Her mother was back at the stove, minding the sauces and pastas. Fran had already donned her bright red apron and was serving plates of lasagna that were today’s lunch special.
    On the way to the kitchen, Reena stopped by tables, greeted neighbors and regulars, laughed each time she was told she needed to eat, get some meat on her bones.
    Gib was sliding one pizza into the oven, taking another out by the time she got to him.

    “There’s my girl.” He set the pie aside and gathered her in for a rib-crusher. He smelled of flour and sweat. “Fran said you were home, but we were swamped. Couldn’t get away to come up.”
    “Came by to pitch in. Bella in the back?”
    “You just missed Bella. Wedding emergency.” He picked up the pizza cutter, divided the pie with quick, practiced strokes. “Something about rose petals. Or maybe it was bud vases.”
    “Then you’re short-handed. Who gets the sausage and green pepper?”
    “Table six. Thanks, baby.”
    She delivered the pizza, took two more orders. It was like she’d never been away, she thought.
    Except she was different. There was not only a year of college under her belt, but everything she’d learned crowded in her head. Familiar faces, familiar smells, routines and movements that were automatic. Yet she was just a little more than she had been the last time she’d worked here.
    She had a boyfriend. It