Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twelve

He leads me up the stairs. "Yes. She'll love you."

It takes maybe ten seconds for someone to answer Giovanni's knock. It's a man, clearly a butler.

"Afternoon, Mr. Martinelli."

"Afternoon." Giovanni guides me in. "Fred, this is Scarlett Bardot."

"It's a pleasure, Ms. Bardot."

"Scarlett is fine," I respond, smiling awkwardly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Giovanni, is that you?"

My head snaps up at the sound of a deep, feminine drawl, finding a woman walking into the foyer, her heels clicking loudly against the ground.

"Mom," Giovanni says warmly as she smiles wide, stopping in front of him, waiting for him to kiss her. He does, leaning in to hug her as well.

"Gio, I told Laurie to make your favorite, but they didn't have any fresh salmon at the market. I just chewed him out."

I blink, vaguely remembering Giovanni telling me that he doesn't like salmon. When his eyes flicker to my own, the thought is confirmed.

"Don't chew out Laurie. He's going to quit if you keep giving him a hard time."

"He's dealt with me for ten years now, Giovanni. I think he knows what to expect. I want things to be perfect for you. I mean, who knows the next time I'll see you, right? You never come by anymore."

Giovanni breathes in and then turns to me. "Mom, this is Scarlett."

She looks at me and smiles softly. "Yes. I'm Tammy, darling."

I begin to open my mouth to reply, but she has already turned on her heel, beckoning us further into the house. Failing to recover from the surprise of her abruptness, I shut my mouth fast, my hands tightly gripping the wine bottle.

Giovanni's eyes meet mine cautiously as we follow her inside.

"I've had to hire more housekeepers. This place just never seems to be clean. I hope you don't mind, honey."

"I don't."

"It will cost you a bit more." Cost him?

"How many did you hire?"

"Three more."

Giovanni closes his eyes, his features etched with troubled regret. "Mom, you already had two. You do not need five maids."

Five maids? I stare at her as she enters the parlor room, immediately reaching for liquor.

"Gio–"

"Pick two, the most competent ones, and fire the other three, alright?"

"Fine, Giovanni," she responds, turning to me.

"Would you like a martini, dear?"

I shake my head. It's not even three in the afternoon. "No, thank you."

She regards me closely, pursing her lips. She turns back to the tray, grabbing the martini mixer. "I'll make you one anyway."

I look at Giovanni, and he mouths, "I'm sorry," rubbing a hand over my back.

"Mom, Scarlett brought some wine."

She turns, impossibly elegant in a slimming black dress, a tight up-do to keep her black hair tamed. Giovanni clearly gets his curls from her. I hand her the bottle, and she scans the label.

"Not bad."

"It's her favorite," Giovanni grumbles to me, shaking his head. I look between them, unsure of what to do. She smiles at me, and I sense a hostility barely restrained.