Invitation to Italian

Julie swiveled on her clogs to leave but caught herself before she had fully turned away. “I still have to ask, though.” She couldn’t help herself.

He waited silently.

“How can you live with the thought that a baby could have died knowing we could and should have done more?” She peered at him closely.

He remained standing like a man in charge, barricaded on the other side of his desk, but something about him—be it his normally entrenched aura or some indefinable spirit—appeared to contract within.

Until finally, after what Julie felt was one of the most awkward moments of her life, he responded, “I do what I do every morning. I get up and try to do what I think is best for the future of this hospital.”

“And you can be sure that members of the Grantham community recognize that,” Iris said in support.

Oh, hell, who was she kidding? Julie thought. Iris was right. Sebastiano had improved things at the hospital. He appeared to have an almost miraculous green thumb when it came to raising money, and he had spearheaded interim renovations on the chemotherapy infusion clinic besides increasing the number of social workers to help patients navigate the intricacies of insurance coverage for various levels of care. Charging full steam into his office, wanting to do the best for her patients, she’d made a mess of things. “As those of us on staff at the hospital realize what you’ve done, as well,” she said belatedly.

Suddenly she ached, inside and out, and she wasn’t sure what hurt more. She brought her hand to her cheek and rubbed it. She felt a bump. That’s right. That stupid ultrasound machine. Well, she’d have a doozy of a bruise tomorrow. That was for sure. The sooner she got out of this predicament, the better. “So, if you’ll excuse me…” she said, easing her way toward the door.

“Before you go, Julie.” Iris caught her in midflight. “Just the other day, Sarah was showing me the baby pillow you made for little Natalie—my granddaughter,” she said by way of explanation to Sebastiano, with a beaming smile. “And then she gave me the sampler pillow you made for me. It’s beautiful, and it will definitely take pride of place in my library. And I just love the saying, ‘If I had known how much fun grandchildren would be, I would have had them first.’” She mimicked writing the words with queenlike aplomb.

Then she turned abruptly toward Sebastiano. “You do know, of course, that Julie does absolutely magnificent needlepoint, extraordinary stitches.”

He raised his eyebrows. “No, I learn something new every day about Dr. Antonelli.”

“Yes…well…I have many facets, including my innate ability to run half-cocked into a situation. So, if you’ll excuse me again…” She winced. The talking was really starting to take a toll on her composure, not to mention her sore cheek.

Sebastiano frowned. “Actually, you’re not excused. If you ladies would stay here for a moment, there’s something I need to do. I’ll be right back.” He circled the desk and left the room quickly.

Julie looked over at Iris. “Well, that was a little weird,” she said, feeling embarrassed.

Iris looked at Julie, then glanced over her narrow shoulder at the open door before slowly turning back to Julie. She waited a second before commenting, her pearls shining with a yellow, old-monied hue in the morning light coming through the bank of windows. “I believe you’ve taken him out of his comfort zone.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Julie asked.

Iris smiled. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

CHAPTER FOUR

SEBASTIANO COOLED HIS heels beside his assistant’s desk while she ran his errand. But he needed to do more than cool his heels. His temper had reached the boiling point, as well. And all because of Julie Antonelli.

He had always found her an annoying presence—constantly emailing him with suggestions, or, rather, demands, on how to run the hospital.

Even more infuriating was the fact that she was undeniably attractive. She had a kind of insouciant sexiness. Too tall, of course, but one couldn’t deny the appeal of her coltish figure and the way her legs seemed to go on for miles. Normally, he wasn’t fond of women with short hair, but somehow her boyish cut worked with her larger-than-life brown eyes, her classically straight Roman nose and her sharply delineated cheekbones. One of which he couldn’t help noticing during the course of their conversation—no, confrontation was more accurate—was rapidly suffering from edema and a contusion.

“Thank you,” he said to his assistant when she came hurrying back. He didn’t bother to offer any explanations. Then he marched back into his office. “Sorry for my brief absence.” He thrust his arm at Julie. “Here. Take this.”

Julie looked down, confused. “A towel? I mean I know my hair is all sweaty and I need a shower….”

“It’s not your hair that concerns me,” he said gruffly. He forced the bundle on her before circling back to the safety of his side of the desk. “That’s an ice pack. Your bruise is swelling quite nicely. Now, please tell me you didn’t infuriate someone else on these premises, thus necessitating another ice pack and a call to our legal counsel?”

Julie unwrapped the towel and saw the plastic Ziploc bag filled with ice cubes. She shook her head. “No, I didn’t irritate anyone else. It was entirely my own clumsiness. But thanks anyway…for this.”

“Don’t thank me, thank my assistant. She was the one who ran to get it. I can just imagine the rumors circulating through the halls already given the noise of the vase crashing.” He looked sternly at Julie.

She grimaced.

Sebastiano should have felt triumphant, only he didn’t. Another source of irritation.

“Yes, one can just imagine,” Iris said with a chuckle.

Julie pushed the towel-wrapped ice pack up against the side of her face, causing her short hair to stick out the side. He had an incredible urge to lean across his desk and gently pat it in place….

Don’t be ridiculous, he chastised himself. He gulped purposefully. “Dr. Antonelli, I can appreciate that in the heat of the moment and after an arduous night you are tired and upset. Still, the hospital has proper protocol for handling complaints.”

“I know, and I am sorry,” Julie said. “And once more, I apologize, Mrs. Phox. I know how much you’ve done for the hospital and the people of this community.”

“Don’t even mention it, my dear. And next time you see your father, please give him my best. I always tell everyone that I would never let anyone else touch my Mercedes.” She looked over at Sebastiano. “You’ve been to Antonelli Auto Mechanics, haven’t you?”

Sebastiano fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I can’t say I have.”

“You must. It’s immaculate. You could eat off the floor.”

He saw Julie suppress a smile.

“And they have very good espresso,” Iris added.

“I’ll remember that the next time I need to take my car to the shop—or need a coffee.”

Julie held out the towel, carefully folding it over to catch where the bag of ice cubes had started to leak. “Here. Thanks.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You need it more than I. It’s the least we can do as a proper hospital.”

“You sure you don’t need my insurance card first?” she asked.

“Don’t press your luck,” he warned.

“Dr. Fonterra, Mrs. Phox.” Julie nodded and left.

“An interesting woman,” Iris commented.

Her words brought his attention back into the room. “Dr. Antonelli certainly is…ah…unique.”

“If you mean she has chutzpah—”

Sebastiano frowned. “Chutzpah?”

“Yes, such a lovely Yiddish word. It just rolls off your tongue. I find Yiddish so useful when dealing with people. I can see that I must give you a Yiddish dictionary.”

Sebastiano had this uneasy feeling they were about to go down the rabbit hole again. “I take it that it means rude?” he asked.

Iris pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Rude, yes, I suppose so. But at the same time passionate.” She paused. “I’m no expert of course.”