Lavished with Lavender - Valerie Comer Page 0,19

— or possibly even four — will be more realistic. We’ll need to evaluate as we move forward.”

Was she making that up because she needed the job? Or because she enjoyed antagonizing Tony? Nah. She wouldn’t be like that. Would she?

“Well, we are certainly thankful for your help,” Mom said. “Everyone has only had good things to say about you.”

Kenna raised her eyebrows at him.

Great. Tony had carefully kept his opinions to himself, which made it sound like he’d been gushing along with his aunts. He certainly had not been. He just hadn’t seen the point in dumping his frustration on his parents, since they lived too far away to be of any practical help. Besides, he’d told the aunts to go ahead and hire Kenna. His personal issues with her were just that. His.

Mom patted Kenna’s arm, but probably didn’t notice her flinch. Tony did. “Well, you just take care of Mamma this weekend and let Matt and me take care of everything else. I’ll do the cooking and the cleaning and...” Mom’s voice faltered as she looked around.

She was probably searching in vain for one single thing that needed tidying, dusting, or scrubbing, but she wouldn’t find it.

“I can—”

“Nonsense,” Mom interrupted. “I’m sure you work too hard, and we’re happy to lift the burden while we’re here. Take some time for yourself. Get out for a bit with your friends.”

If Kenna had any friends, Tony hadn’t seen or heard a peep out of them. He wasn’t one to talk, though. His life revolved around the restaurant. Other than that, he lived in a vast wasteland. One crowded with his grandmother’s excess belongings.

Nonna closed her eyes for a brief second.

In an instant, Kenna squatted by the wheelchair, her knit dress clinging to her perfect curves. “Would you like to lie down for a little while?”

Why did Tony keep noticing the nurse’s shape? It drove him crazy. Sure, he was thankful she’d exchanged her clicking heels for soft-soled tennis shoes. The fact that she’d picked up knit dresses and leggings to go with them hadn’t escaped him, either. The softer look suited her. Made her look a bit less formal. Less imposing. But that was just her outer looks and had nothing to do with her personality. That was just as take-charge and abrasive as before.

Tony might have barked at a young waitress last night and caused a spate of tears, but it wasn’t the same thing. He ran a moderately sized business with nearly two dozen employees. He couldn’t let the restaurant’s reputation lapse because the girl had messed up the orders at table eighteen.

Taking care of Nonna was Kenna’s job in the same way. Sure, she wasn’t responsible for the range of things he was, but she was just as dedicated to making her job run smoothly. He had to hand it to her.

“Let me help you.” Dad followed Kenna and the wheelchair down the hallway.

Good luck with that, Dad.

“No. I’ve got it.” Kenna smiled and nudged the bedroom door shut with her foot as she passed through.

Mom turned to Tony. “She seems... nice.”

“I think you mean efficient.”

“That, too.” She smiled and looked around the living room. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place so spotless, but there appears to be some furniture missing. I guess it needed to be moved to make room for the wheelchair.”

“About that.” Tony glanced at the hallway as Dad paused in front of Kenna’s open door then came the rest of the way with a slight frown on his face. “My aunts got a little carried away, I think. The basement storage area is so jammed full they started putting the excess in my place.”

“There’s almost no furniture in the guest room,” Dad observed. “It’s all in the basement, you say?”

“Has anyone ever noticed that Nonna has way too much stuff that she doesn’t need?” Tony looked between his parents. “I don’t know when someone last went through this house and decluttered it. You guys usually stay in the guest room. Did you know one of the drawers was full of Nonni’s socks? And his clothes still hung in the closet? He’s been dead since I was a kid.”

Dad grimaced. “Yes, we knew that. It was always hard to find a place to put our suitcase in that room. Ray and Grace’s house is much more... organized.”

“We need to stage an intervention.” Tony kept his voice low. “She’s eighty. She could live another twenty years, and it just can’t keep going