him.”
“Dad?”
“Yes. Since I never got to meet him, I’m curious. What was he like?”
“Well, as you’ve probably guessed because he passed the trait along to the rest of us, he was tall and athletic. He was the son of Italian immigrants. Came from a large Catholic family. Between Mom’s family and his we have so many cousins I’ve lost count.”
“I’ve heard those types of details. I’m curious what he was like as a father.”
“He was a great dad. We all looked up to him. He was smart as a whip and very charismatic. He could have sold a snowball to an Eskimo. Everybody loved him.”
“Sounds like Gabi.”
Lucca nodded. “I always thought she was more like Dad than any of his sons are. He treated her differently, not only because she was the only girl, but because I think he saw himself in her. Not that he let her get away with stuff. He was strict with all of us, but he left the disciplining up to Mom. He was the threat she used to keep us in line. ‘Don’t make me tell your father.’ We didn’t want that, either, believe me. The very worst thing in the world was disappointing Marcello Romano.”
“So you were all a bunch of angels?” Zach asked.
“Not hardly.” Lucca grinned at the idea. “Max, Tony, and I got into our share of trouble, but Dad’s ‘boys will be boys’ category was pretty big. He didn’t give us grief about sneaking out of the house or underage drinking or sleeping around—as long as we got out of the house and back into it without Mom finding out, didn’t mix drinking and driving, and swore we wore condoms.”
“Did he have that same attitude where Gabi was concerned?”
“Oh, no. Dad was old-fashioned. Mom was a stay-at-home mom, and Dad wouldn’t have had it any other way. If Gabi hadn’t earned a basketball scholarship, I’m not sure he’d have sent her to college—unless it was nursing school or beauty school.”
“What did he think about her becoming a cop?”
Lucca smiled at the memory. “It was World War Three. Mom stood up for Gabi, though, so he couldn’t do much more than grumble and bluster. Mom didn’t take positions against him often, and when she did, she usually got her way.”
“I know that feeling,” Zach said. “Savannah is like that. Most of the time, she’s pretty easygoing, but when something really matters to her, she’s implacable. There is no changing her mind.”
“Speaking of implacable women, what can you tell me about my next-door neighbor?”
Zach glanced his way. “I assume you don’t mean Mrs. Winsted?”
“Is her first name Hope?”
“Catherine.”
Mrs. Winsted must be the elderly woman who lived in the house to his south. “I’m talking about the redhead with the dog and the big Bambi eyes.”
“Ah, Hope Montgomery. I didn’t know she had a dog.”
“An annoying, yappy little terrier mix. With puppies.”
Chuckling, Zach asked, “You don’t like little dogs, Lucca?”
“I don’t like dogs, period,” Lucca fired back.
Zach looked taken aback by that. “Really? I’m surprised. Gabi has told me about the antics of the Labradors you and Tony got for one of your birthdays. I thought you were a dog lover, too.”
Lucca had never told anyone about the puppy that Seth Seidel had brought onto the Ravens’ team bus or the part it had played in the accident. “No, not particularly. Back to Hope … Montgomery, was it? She’s always coming and going from her house. What does she do for a living?”
“Easier question might be what she doesn’t do. I heard Celeste say just last week that from now on when she’s going to use the cliché ‘busy as a beaver’ she’ll say instead ‘busy as Hope Montgomery.’ She teaches at our school. Kindergarten and high school English, I think. Or maybe math. This summer she’s been working at the tourist office, conducting tours for the historical society, helping out up at the Davenports’ camp, and once a week she leads an alpine mountain bike
“Dad?”
“Yes. Since I never got to meet him, I’m curious. What was he like?”
“Well, as you’ve probably guessed because he passed the trait along to the rest of us, he was tall and athletic. He was the son of Italian immigrants. Came from a large Catholic family. Between Mom’s family and his we have so many cousins I’ve lost count.”
“I’ve heard those types of details. I’m curious what he was like as a father.”
“He was a great dad. We all looked up to him. He was smart as a whip and very charismatic. He could have sold a snowball to an Eskimo. Everybody loved him.”
“Sounds like Gabi.”
Lucca nodded. “I always thought she was more like Dad than any of his sons are. He treated her differently, not only because she was the only girl, but because I think he saw himself in her. Not that he let her get away with stuff. He was strict with all of us, but he left the disciplining up to Mom. He was the threat she used to keep us in line. ‘Don’t make me tell your father.’ We didn’t want that, either, believe me. The very worst thing in the world was disappointing Marcello Romano.”
“So you were all a bunch of angels?” Zach asked.
“Not hardly.” Lucca grinned at the idea. “Max, Tony, and I got into our share of trouble, but Dad’s ‘boys will be boys’ category was pretty big. He didn’t give us grief about sneaking out of the house or underage drinking or sleeping around—as long as we got out of the house and back into it without Mom finding out, didn’t mix drinking and driving, and swore we wore condoms.”
“Did he have that same attitude where Gabi was concerned?”
“Oh, no. Dad was old-fashioned. Mom was a stay-at-home mom, and Dad wouldn’t have had it any other way. If Gabi hadn’t earned a basketball scholarship, I’m not sure he’d have sent her to college—unless it was nursing school or beauty school.”
“What did he think about her becoming a cop?”
Lucca smiled at the memory. “It was World War Three. Mom stood up for Gabi, though, so he couldn’t do much more than grumble and bluster. Mom didn’t take positions against him often, and when she did, she usually got her way.”
“I know that feeling,” Zach said. “Savannah is like that. Most of the time, she’s pretty easygoing, but when something really matters to her, she’s implacable. There is no changing her mind.”
“Speaking of implacable women, what can you tell me about my next-door neighbor?”
Zach glanced his way. “I assume you don’t mean Mrs. Winsted?”
“Is her first name Hope?”
“Catherine.”
Mrs. Winsted must be the elderly woman who lived in the house to his south. “I’m talking about the redhead with the dog and the big Bambi eyes.”
“Ah, Hope Montgomery. I didn’t know she had a dog.”
“An annoying, yappy little terrier mix. With puppies.”
Chuckling, Zach asked, “You don’t like little dogs, Lucca?”
“I don’t like dogs, period,” Lucca fired back.
Zach looked taken aback by that. “Really? I’m surprised. Gabi has told me about the antics of the Labradors you and Tony got for one of your birthdays. I thought you were a dog lover, too.”
Lucca had never told anyone about the puppy that Seth Seidel had brought onto the Ravens’ team bus or the part it had played in the accident. “No, not particularly. Back to Hope … Montgomery, was it? She’s always coming and going from her house. What does she do for a living?”
“Easier question might be what she doesn’t do. I heard Celeste say just last week that from now on when she’s going to use the cliché ‘busy as a beaver’ she’ll say instead ‘busy as Hope Montgomery.’ She teaches at our school. Kindergarten and high school English, I think. Or maybe math. This summer she’s been working at the tourist office, conducting tours for the historical society, helping out up at the Davenports’ camp, and once a week she leads an alpine mountain bike
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