“Carter,” I say, and watch her scratch my name across the cup before hitting the total button on the register.
“That’ll be $4.75.”
We finish the transaction and I go to the waiting area, watching the older gentleman move about efficiently as he takes care of the drink orders, one after another. He’s quick, I’ll give him that. As discreetly as possible, I let my gaze sweep the room, in search of Stella and her nonna. I spot them immediately, sitting at a table tucked away in a corner, Stella facing my direction. She’s smiling and nodding, and when her grandmother reaches out to touch her arm, giving it a shake, Stella bursts into laughter.
My chest tightens. She really has a gorgeous smile. And I like hearing her laugh. Something I haven’t heard in a long time since I don’t amuse her whatsoever.
Once I collect my drink, I contemplate leaving. Or I could settle in at an empty table and enjoy my latte.
But fuck it. Instead, I make my way to the back of the building, weaving through the tables until I’m standing directly in front of the one occupied by Stella and her grandmother.
“Hey Stella,” I say, my voice, my entire demeanor relaxed and hopefully approachable. I can’t help it, I’m curious. I want to meet another family member. One that might like me, unlike her unimpressed teenaged cousin.
Stella’s eyes meet mine, and I can tell I’m the last person she expected to run into. The smile on her face fades and I hate that I’m the cause of that. “Carter. Hey.”
Grandma’s head whips around, revealing a softly lined face and brown eyes that remind me of Stella’s. She sizes me up with one look, her bright pink-painted lips curving into a smile. “And who’s this fine-looking specimen?”
“Nonna. Please.” Stella appears mortified, which makes me laugh.
“Carter Abbott.” I offer my hand for her to shake and she takes it, the many rings on her fingers glittering from the lights shining above. “Nice to meet you.”
“Abbott? Are you related to Caroline?” She doesn’t let go of my hand.
“She’s my sister.”
“Oh, how delightful! Darling, you didn’t tell me about Carter,” Grandma says accusingly to Stella before she returns her attention to me. “My name is Graziella Ricci, but you can call me Grace.”
“Nice to meet you, Grace,” I say as I pry my hand out of hers. She may look like a sweet, diminutive grandma, but she has a hell of a grip. “I just wanted to say hi.” I look over at Stella, our gazes meeting. “Your cousin told me you were still here.”
“Sabina?” Stella shakes her head. “Was she rude to you?”
“Nope,” I lie with ease.
“Please. That girl has the worst attitude,” Grace says, turning in her chair so she can send a glare in Sabina’s direction. “Seventeen and believes she knows everything.”
“She’s a brat,” Stella agrees. “But she’s a hard worker and always shows up on time, so we don’t complain.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt, so I’ll leave you alone,” I tell them both. “It was nice meeting you, Grace.”
“Don’t you dare leave,” Grace says, kicking out the chair next to her. “Sit. Join us.”
My gaze meets Stella’s yet again, silently asking permission, and she blows out a soft breath. “She doesn’t take no for an answer, so you better sit.”
Pleased, I settle into the chair next to Grace and take a long sip from my latte. Not as good as Stella’s, but I’d rather have her sitting across from me than behind the counter and too busy to talk.
“So you two know each other because of Caroline?” Grace asks.
We both nod.
“Have you always been friends?”
“Not really,” Stella says.
“I just moved back here after being in L.A. for the last ten years, and I’m living with—ow.” I glare at Stella, who just kicked the shit out of my shins. Damn, that hurt. Is she wearing steel-toed boots or what?
“Sorry,” Stella says sweetly. “Had one of those weird leg reflexes. You know how I suffer from them sometimes, don’t you, Nonna?”
“Mmmhmmm, I think I’ve suffered from them before a time or two over the years.” Clearly she doesn’t believe Stella, but she lets it go. “Where do you live again, dear?”
I get the sense that Stella doesn’t want her nonna to know that we live together. “I’m staying with my mom until I get back on my feet.” I hate lying, but I’m guessing Stella’s old-fashioned grandmother would flip out if she knew we were living together, even platonically.
“And what do you do, Carter?”
“I’m a real estate agent. Well, I was when I was living in Los Angeles,” I explain.
“Oh? So you’re not working for a real estate company currently? I’m looking for an agent. I’m thinking about selling my house here in Carmel.”
“Nonna, you can’t sell it,” Stella says, reaching out to settle her hand over her grandmother’s. “Your house holds so many memories for all of us.”
“I know, but we have plenty of pictures and all those memories filling our heads. I’m tired of taking care of that yard, sweetie. It’s too much. Besides, I want something smaller. I want to live in a condo.” Grace does a little shimmy in her seat, making Stella laugh, and I smile too. “What’s so funny? I’m serious! I think a small condo right on the beach would be perfect. It could be part of a retirement community too, so I can meet new people and have fun.”
“You already live by the beach,” Stella points out. “Why would you sell your beautiful house for a condo?”
“Because it holds a lot of memories that I’m tired of living in, if you want me to be truthful.” Grace turns to smile at me. “Would you care to see the house?”
“Oh, I don’t plan on doing real—”
“Don’t protest,” Grace says, cutting me off. “You’re coming with me. And so is Stella.”
“But I have to work,” Stella starts, and her grandma shakes her head.
“You’re off. You told me so yourself, so stop trying to avoid this. Come on, kids. I’m parked out front.” Grace pushes back her chair and stands, then grabs hold of a cane I didn’t notice before. “Let’s go,” she calls as she slowly makes her way to the front door.
“If you want to leave, you can,” Stella says as we both stand. “You probably have better things to do than humor my grandmother.”
“I don’t mind,” I say truthfully.
“She’s very pushy,” Stella says.
“Yeah, she’s pretty feisty,” I say as we start for the door, falling into sync as we walk beside each other.
We tend to do that, Stella and I.
“Some say I’m just like her.” Stella steals a glance my way. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Take it as a compliment.” I hold the door open for her just as a loud, musical horn sounds.
Stella makes a face. “That’s my grandmother’s car.” She waves a hand toward the vintage white Mercedes sedan parked directly in front of Sweet Dreams. “If you’re going with us, you get to ride in the front seat.”