Chapter 42: Hopefully

“Oh?” Tony said, his expression brightening hopefully. “What solution?” “Let Hanna take over. She’s insistent on staying here for the time being

because of her friend Karen. It would give her something to do.”

Tony seemed startled by the suggestion. “Were you not the one who warned

me not to expect her to work here again?”

“I meant permanently,” Rafe said, then shrugged. “Who knows, though? Maybe I was wrong about that, as well. Hanna is not an easy woman to read.”

Tony looked shocked by the assessment. “Hanna? She wears her heart on her sleeve. Anyone who knows her can see that.”

“Then maybe I don’t know her as well as I thought.”

“Or perhaps as well as you would like to?” Tony inquired, looking amused. “Or is it that what you see terrifies you, so you pretend not to see it?”

Rafe glanced toward the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman in question, but the door remained steadfastly closed. “It’s possible that you’re right,” he admitted, turning back to Tony. “Maybe I do see things that scare me, even though a part of me wants what she wants.”

“This is a good thing,” Tony said enthusiastically. “I am very pleased.

Admitting what you want is always the first step.” “First step to what?” Rafe asked.

“The future.” He grinned. “Now, what would you like to know about our Hanna? Ask, and I will tell you.”

His sudden openness startled Rafe. “Why the change of heart? You’ve been refusing to discuss her with me before now.”

Tony’s amusement seemed to grow. “Because you have changed. As has your reason for being here, I suspect. Now, tell me, what is it about Hanna that you do not understand?”

Rafe asked the first thing that came to mind. “Is she a good chef?”

“Of all the things you might have asked, that is what you pick?” Tony said with a sad shake of his head. “Perhaps I was wrong about you, after all. I was expecting something personal.”

“I thought cooking was personal to her. It’s what she does.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “But not who she is. Besides, I cannot believe you have never eaten in her restaurant.”

“Never, though my business associates dine there all the time.” Rafe thought of Lydia and added, “And my secretary loves the place.”

“Because Hanna has a passion for food. She understands it. She knows what will add to a meal and what will distract. She shares all of that when she cooks.”

“Then why hasn’t she fought harder to keep Café Tuscany afloat? I know she came here for that reunion, but I thought she would go back at once and charge into battle to save the restaurant. Instead, there have been times when I’ve had to wonder if she even cares whether it closes or not.”

Tony looked shocked by Rafe’s assessment. “You are wrong,” he said fiercely. “She cares, too much perhaps. She has tried to distance herself, I think,

out of fear. She is trying not to let it matter, in case she is not able to keep it open.”

When Rafe would have responded, Tony stopped him with a sign. “Wait, there is more. There is one thing that matters more to Hanna than food.”

“Her friends,” Rafe guessed.

Tony gave a curt nod of satisfaction. “Precisely. And can you see how that has affected what she’d done these past weeks? She has taken their burdens as her own, but she has not shared hers with them.”

“And she has stayed on because she cares about her friend Karen,” Rafe said slowly. “She will stay on longer because of you and Francesca. If there is another friend with another crisis, she will extend her stay yet again.”

“True, but it is more than that. She has stayed because a man she trusted, a man she believed in and counted on, betrayed her. Bobby Rinaldi is a criminal to you, but to Hanna he was a friend. Think about that,” Tony said quietly. “I will go and get us another bottle of wine.”

He left Rafe feeling shaken. Not once had he stopped to consider the impact Bobby’s actions would have had on Hanna emotionally. He’d thought only in terms of dollars and cents, only in terms of the business, not the friendship, quite likely because he had never established such deep ties to another person.

Of course Hanna had been devastated. To the woman Tony had described— the woman Rafe was only beginning to know—losing a friend would be far worse than losing a restaurant.

Rafe wasn’t entirely sure he could understand that depth of feeling for another person. He didn’t profess to understand love, either, and this was something altogether different, something he’d always assumed would be less intense, less demanding.

In his world, there were no messy, emotional connections. No long-term lovers. As he had explained to Hanna, there were colleagues, business associates, casual acquaintances. Even his relationship with his mother was coolly polite, rather than loving. He’d grown too jaded over the years, first by watching his parents’ marriage disintegrate, later by watching criminals—and yes, his colleagues, too—manipulate the legal system.

But when he thought of the way Lauren had rushed to Hanna’s defense while knowing none of the facts, when he considered how Ashlee was prepared to staunchly defend Hanna, he could see that there were people in the world to whom loyalty and friendship were more than mere words.

A part of him wanted that kind of closeness to another human being—to Hanna—but he was afraid to risk it. People who made commitments risked betrayal and hurt. He had only to look at what Bobby had done to Hanna to see

that.

And yet never, not even once, had he had the sense that Hanna regretted her friendship with Rinaldi, only that it had come to this tragic end. Though she had never said the words, he realized that was also why she had been so slow to join forces with him, so reluctant to leap to her own defense and throw Bobby to the wolves. She hadn’t been ready to give up on her friend.

Rafe wondered wistfully what it would be like to be deserving of that kind of loyalty. Bobby certainly wasn’t. Was Rafe? He thought of what could still happen to take Café Tuscany away from Hanna. He had set those wheels in motion with his suit against the restaurant and Rinaldi. Would Hanna ultimately blame him for that, especially if it cost her the business she had poured her heart and soul into? Would she hate him for it? Or would she understand and forgive?

Time would tell, he supposed, then he shuddered at the thought. It implied far more patience than he had. But what choice did he have? None.

Professionally and personally, he was going to have to see this through on whatever timetable it took. He tried to see beyond that to the future, but to his frustration it was disturbingly blank.

“Sorry I took so long,” Hanna said, sliding a plate of steaming lasagna in front of him. “This is Francesca’s favorite, and it took a while to get all the ingredients together. I sent some home to her with Tony.”

“Did he tell you about her homesickness?” he asked, amazingly unsurprised that Hanna had thought of preparing Francesca’s favorite dish.

She nodded. “I told him to take her to Italy, that I would cover for him.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that his estimation of her reaction had been proved right. “I told him you would do that.”