Read Online Miracle (The Pagano Family Book 6) by Susan Fanetti - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Fanetti
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was catchable. There’d been a few looks that had seemed interested. Skittish, but interested.
Come on. Okay. Dark red skinny jeans. Crocheted black sweater with a black cami underneath. Black buckle Docs. And her biker jacket.
She pulled the elastic from her hair and brushed it out, did her face with a bit of extra liner and lips to match her jeans and her nails—which needed a touchup, but no time for that—and called it good enough. She hoped.
In the mirror, plain old Tina stared back. Nothing special, but nothing awful, either.
Before she left, she went in to sit with her mother for a few minutes. Leslie, her weekend nurse, was still on duty, but she was down cellar doing some laundry. The room was bright; her mother didn’t want to settle down for the night unless her husband was there to do it.
To Catch a Thief was playing on the television. When she saw Tina, her mother’s left eye moved vigorously, and Tina paused the movie.
“Yep. I have a date. I’m going to say good night now, because I hope I won’t be in until late.”
Her mother’s left index finger flexed, and Tina picked up that hand. “Do you think I look okay?”
The eye moved up and down.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Yes. It moved several more times. Of course.
“It’s with Joey Pagano.”
Her mother had known about her high school crush—she’d come upon one of Tina’s spiral school notebooks, with Tina Pagano , Mrs. Joey Pagano , Joey + Tina doodled all over the inside of the back cover, in hearts and puffy letters. Such a dork.
‘Come upon’ was a bit passive as a description. ‘Hunted down’ was probably more apt. Her mom had been a snoop, and Tina had gone to inventive lengths to keep her diaries secret. At any rate, her mom had been kind and loving about it, and Tina had been glad that somebody had known. She’d really been lovesick over the guy. Pathetically so. It had helped to have somebody to talk to about it.
But her mother had also known about Joey’s troubles, and how they’d happened, so when her eye simply stared without moving, Tina read an essay in that stillness. “It’s good, Mamma. He’s…different. But in a good way, I think. His troubles don’t matter. Not to me. You know that.”
Up and down. And a twitch of the hand Tina held. I know.
“Okay. I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late. I love you.”
I love you, too.
~oOo~
Santini’s was a typical pizza place—a little nicer than a take-out joint, but not somewhere people generally went for a romantic evening out. Unless you were Lady and the Tramp.
It was the kind of place that had plastic, red-checked tablecloths and, for centerpieces, chianti bottles with candles stuck in their mouths. Napkins were of the paper variety, from dispensers on the table. They served pizza, salads and breadsticks, a couple of pasta dishes, and soda and beer on tap.
Most of the year, their clientele was largely kids’ sports teams filling up after a game or a practice. The wall behind the counter was full of plaques and framed group photos of all the teams Santini’s had sponsored through the years, and a shelf ran along the top of the wall to hold trophies as well.
On this Saturday night at the end of February, the diners were groups of high school kids and a couple of families with young ones. It was pretty loud.
No, not romantic. But safe, and, for that, a good start.
He was already sitting at one of the tables—one as far as possible from the rowdy teens—with a glass of water. When he saw her coming his way, he stood.
Tina used the seconds it took her to cross the dining room to check him out. Without being especially dressed up, either, he looked good. Handsome. Black button-up shirt and faded jeans. He’d shaved, and she was a bit sorry about that; she liked the stubble of beard he sometimes had.
The top two buttons of his shirt were
Come on. Okay. Dark red skinny jeans. Crocheted black sweater with a black cami underneath. Black buckle Docs. And her biker jacket.
She pulled the elastic from her hair and brushed it out, did her face with a bit of extra liner and lips to match her jeans and her nails—which needed a touchup, but no time for that—and called it good enough. She hoped.
In the mirror, plain old Tina stared back. Nothing special, but nothing awful, either.
Before she left, she went in to sit with her mother for a few minutes. Leslie, her weekend nurse, was still on duty, but she was down cellar doing some laundry. The room was bright; her mother didn’t want to settle down for the night unless her husband was there to do it.
To Catch a Thief was playing on the television. When she saw Tina, her mother’s left eye moved vigorously, and Tina paused the movie.
“Yep. I have a date. I’m going to say good night now, because I hope I won’t be in until late.”
Her mother’s left index finger flexed, and Tina picked up that hand. “Do you think I look okay?”
The eye moved up and down.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Yes. It moved several more times. Of course.
“It’s with Joey Pagano.”
Her mother had known about her high school crush—she’d come upon one of Tina’s spiral school notebooks, with Tina Pagano , Mrs. Joey Pagano , Joey + Tina doodled all over the inside of the back cover, in hearts and puffy letters. Such a dork.
‘Come upon’ was a bit passive as a description. ‘Hunted down’ was probably more apt. Her mom had been a snoop, and Tina had gone to inventive lengths to keep her diaries secret. At any rate, her mom had been kind and loving about it, and Tina had been glad that somebody had known. She’d really been lovesick over the guy. Pathetically so. It had helped to have somebody to talk to about it.
But her mother had also known about Joey’s troubles, and how they’d happened, so when her eye simply stared without moving, Tina read an essay in that stillness. “It’s good, Mamma. He’s…different. But in a good way, I think. His troubles don’t matter. Not to me. You know that.”
Up and down. And a twitch of the hand Tina held. I know.
“Okay. I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late. I love you.”
I love you, too.
~oOo~
Santini’s was a typical pizza place—a little nicer than a take-out joint, but not somewhere people generally went for a romantic evening out. Unless you were Lady and the Tramp.
It was the kind of place that had plastic, red-checked tablecloths and, for centerpieces, chianti bottles with candles stuck in their mouths. Napkins were of the paper variety, from dispensers on the table. They served pizza, salads and breadsticks, a couple of pasta dishes, and soda and beer on tap.
Most of the year, their clientele was largely kids’ sports teams filling up after a game or a practice. The wall behind the counter was full of plaques and framed group photos of all the teams Santini’s had sponsored through the years, and a shelf ran along the top of the wall to hold trophies as well.
On this Saturday night at the end of February, the diners were groups of high school kids and a couple of families with young ones. It was pretty loud.
No, not romantic. But safe, and, for that, a good start.
He was already sitting at one of the tables—one as far as possible from the rowdy teens—with a glass of water. When he saw her coming his way, he stood.
Tina used the seconds it took her to cross the dining room to check him out. Without being especially dressed up, either, he looked good. Handsome. Black button-up shirt and faded jeans. He’d shaved, and she was a bit sorry about that; she liked the stubble of beard he sometimes had.
The top two buttons of his shirt were
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