The Longest Yard Sale Read Online Free Page B

friends of the DiNapolis. It amazed me that they weren’t able to get a liquor license while Carol had one for Paint and Wine. It burned Angelo as well, so two of my favorite people hadn’t warmed to each other.
    As we ate, we talked about all of the tourists and the success of the sale.
    â€œWe were swamped all day,” Rosalie said, but her warm, brown eyes still sparkled with energy. Her brown hair was in place, as always.
    â€œWhat do you know about the fires?” Angelo asked me.
    It didn’t surprise me that Angelo already knew the news. His restaurant was a hub for gossip in Ellington. Policemen and firefighters frequented the place.
    â€œNot much. A series of small fires were started around town at about the same time. All were put out without too much damage, although those old creepy chicken coops out at the VA burned to the ground.” I pushed my plate away and sipped my Chianti. “Nancy told me that if the fire damaged the new football field she’d hold me responsible.”
    Angelo waved his hands in the air. “That woman—she thinks she knows more than the rest of us.” In Italian, Angelo meant messenger of God, and he took that role to heart, which meant he butted heads way too often with the town powers that be. “You let me know if she pulls something like that again. I’ll take care of it.”
    I worried about what Angelo’s method of “taking care of it” would be. I’d seen him nose-to-nose with a traffic officer when he didn’t like the way traffic was rerouted. I knew Angelo had a cousin who was a lawyer for the Mob. His letters to the editor in the local paper were scathing if he didn’t like something the town was considering. I hoped he was joking.
    Rosalie set a tray full of cannolis and Italian cookies on the table. Minutes ago I’d thought I couldn’t take another bite, but Rosalie’s baked goods were irresistible. I picked a cannoli filled with chocolate mousse. The ends were dipped in mini chocolate chips. I must have made some kind of happy noise when I bit in because Rosalie smiled at me.
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    I left a few minutes later with one bag stuffed with what we didn’t eat, plus another full of Italian cookies. As I left, Rosalie tucked the unfinished bottle of “cooking wine” under my arm.
    My legs ached as I walked back across the common. I’d been on my feet almost all day. As I’d predicted this morning, boots with heels hadn’t been a smart choice. But at least the fall air was still warm. When I stopped for a moment in the middle of the common to stare at the stars popping out, weariness settled over me. A bath, with a glass of wine and some decent blues playing in the background, sounded like the perfect ending to the day.
    As I got closer to my building, I saw a figure sitting on the porch, arms on knees, head down. I hoped it was Bubbles waiting for Stella or one of the Callahans’ kids. But soon enough the figure shifted, and I could tell it was CJ. I thought about ducking into the shadows of the church and sneaking around the back way. But CJ spotted me and stood.
    I had a minute or so to decide, as I walked the rest of the way across the common, whether to invite CJ in or keep him out on the porch. Talking on the porch would shorten our visit and get me into the tub sooner. But I’d hurt CJ’s feelings so many times recently that inviting him up might be the more diplomatic thing to do. I hoped he wasn’t here for a relationship talk because I was too tired to fight.
    I held the food between us when I reached the porch. “Want to come up for some leftovers?”
    CJ took the food from my hands and swooped in for a kiss. I kept it to a brush on the lips, even though part of me longed to fall into his arms, lean into his chest, and surrender. But there was too much unfinished business between us to allow myself to do that. I stepped back, hoping the