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The woman turns, her face breaking into a bright, infectious smile. “Oh, hello there! You must be Sofia. I’m Edith Bonetti, but please, call me Edie. I’m the contractor.”
I pause, taken aback. This bubbly, pregnant woman is the contractor Angelo sent? I struggle to find the right words, not wanting to offend her.
Edie seems to read the confusion on my face and lets out a hearty laugh, showing off slightly crooked teeth. “Don’t worry, I get that reaction a lot,” she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “But yes, I am the contractor, and if I do say so myself, one of the best in the business.”
I can’t help but smile at her confidence. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting?—”
“A woman? Or someone who looks like they’re about to pop out a baby any second?” Edie finishes for me, patting her belly affectionately.
I laugh, feeling some of the tension from earlier dissipate. “Both, I suppose.”
What on earth kind of favor could this vivacious woman possibly owe Angelo? It’s hard to imagine her being involved in anything that would put her in debt to a man like him.
“So,” Edie says, clapping her hands together. “Shall we take a look inside?”
I nod, guiding Lou forward as I unlock the door and step inside. I watch as Edie moves through Perfezione, her eyestaking in every detail. She asks a few questions about the layout and the fire damage before her gaze lands on Lou.
A wide grin spreads across Edie's face. “And who’s this little lady?” she asks, her voice warm and inviting.
Lou shrinks back, pressing herself against my side. I run a soothing hand over her hair. “I’m sorry,” I explain to Edie. “We had a pretty traumatic morning. This is my daughter, Lou.”
Edie’s face softens with sympathy. “Oh, honey,” she clucks. “I’m sorry to hear that. You know what always makes me feel better after a rough day? Ice cream. Maybe we can convince your mom to get us some later, huh?”
Despite her fear, I see Lou’s interest piqued by Edie’s friendly demeanor. She offers a small smile, which Edie returns with a playful wink.
As Edie continues her assessment, my curiosity gets the better of me. How on earth does this woman know Angelo? Is she part of the Mob, too? There’s no way…
“So, Edie,” I begin cautiously, “how do you know Angelo?”
Edie turns, a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes. “Oh, you want to know what favor I owe him, don’t you?”
I feel my cheeks heat up, caught off guard by her directness. “I, uh… I mean, if you don’t mind sharing…”
Edie laughs, the sound bright and infectious. She pats my arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing sinister. I lost a bet to him, if you can believe it.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Thatwasn’twhat I was expecting. “A bet?”
Edie nods, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Yep. I bet that the Red Sox would win the World Series against the damn Yankees. But somehow, in the last game of the series, those damn Yankees pulled it off.” She scoffs. “I bet Angelo somehow fixed the game to make sure I lost. Bastard.”
I can’t help but laugh at the unexpected explanation. “And that's why you’re here? Because of a baseball bet?”
“Hey, a bet’s a bet,” Edie says with a shrug. “And Angelo Pirelli isn’t a man you want to owe a favor to for long. So, here I am, ready to work my magic on your shop. Speaking of your shop, here are some ideas I have…”
As Edie launches into her plans for Perfezione’s renovation, I find myself relaxing for the first time since this morning’s incident. There’s something about Edie's presence—her warmth, her humor, her obvious competence—that makes me feel like everything might just turn out okay.
I glance at Lou, noticing that she’s slowly inching closer to Edie, drawn in by the woman’s animated descriptions. It’s a small thing, but seeing Lou engage after the trauma of this morning fills me with hope.
Edie and I finalize the details for Perfezione’s renovation, including work schedules and the timeline for the grand reopening and auction, and I feel a sense of relief wash over me. Having a concrete plan makes everything seem more manageable.
Suddenly, Edie places a hand on her rounded belly. “Well, ladies,” she announces with a grin, “my little one is demanding ice cream. And who am I to deny my baby anything?”
Lou, who’s been quietly observing until now, pipes up. “But it’s so early for ice cream!”
Edie shrugs, her eyes twinkling. “Ice cream is healthy, you know. It’s got milk, eggs, and if you get a waffle cone, you’ve even got some wheat. That’s a balanced breakfast right there!”
Lou’s eyes light up at this logic, and I can’t help but groan good-naturedly. “Oh, Edie,” I laugh, “Lou’s going to use that argument every morning now.”
“I see nothing wrong with that,” Edie says with a wink, nudging Lou playfully.
