Page 93 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

Well, shit. My daughter had never turned down outside time.

“I know.” I clapped my hands together, spouting the first thing that popped into my head. “How about we do something special for Uncle Jackson?”

That got her interest. “Like what?”

“Did you know he used to live here? Just like I did when I was a kid?”

She nodded.

“Well, there was this place where we used to get these meatball subs. They are his favorite sandwich ever. What if we went and got some meatballs to put in the fridge and then take home to him?”

“Yeah! And some for Gran too.”

“You got it. We’ll get a ton and we’ll make a special dinner when we get home.”

She smiled and leaned into my side. I wasn’t sure if it was the mention of Jackson or Hazel or just going home, but it was the first happy smile I’d seen from her all day.

As the driver pulled away from the curb, my stomach clenched. Going back to Brooklyn was going to hurt, but for Charlie, I’d do it anyway.

We were going to Giovanni’s.

“Is this it, ma’am?” the driver asked over his shoulder.

Was this it?

I studied the restaurant, taking in the weathered sign and faded red awning over the front door. Giovanni’s was worn and so much smaller than I remembered. Had there always been bars on the windows? From the car, I could make out the same booths Jackson and I had shared once upon a time. Had there always just been the three? I couldn’t remember a time when we’d come to Giovanni’s and there hadn’t been a line at the counter, but today, it was dead.

“We’ll just be a minute,” I told the driver, taking Charlie’s hand as we unbuckled and climbed out of the backseat.

She clutched me tight as we pushed open the front door, ringing the familiar bell. The sound at least hadn’t changed, or the smell of garlic and tomatoes.

“What can I getcha?” The waitress behind the counter didn’t look up from her magazine to greet us.

“Um, I was wondering if I could get an order of meatballs, the ones you make in your subs, to go?”

“Lemme check.” She rolled her eyes and set down the magazine. “Yo, Ruthie!”

“She sounds funny,” Charlie whispered as the girl disappeared into the kitchen.

“It’s just her accent, honey. Some people in the city have different accents.”

Though, neither Jackson nor I had ever picked up a Brooklyn accent. He’d been born in Pennsylvania and had learned to talk there before being brought to New York. And since the nannies at the orphanage had all come from out of state, usually missionaries from some Midwest churches volunteering in the city for a year, I’d never picked up the accent myself.

“Are you the lady who wants meat—” A woman came out from the back but stopped before reaching the counter. “Thea?”

My mouth fell open. “Ruth?”

We stared at each other for a long moment, until the shock on her face morphed into a smug, bitchy grin. “Well, well, well. Back in the neighborhood. I always knew you’d be back.”

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard and I tugged Charlie closer to my side. “I’m just in town visiting. I was hoping to pick up some meatballs for Jackson and take them home as a gift.”

“Knew you two would end up together.” She eyed me up and down before nodding to Charlie. “That his kid?”

“No.” I shook my head. “We’re not together. Same as always, we’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh.” She sneered, looking past us to the car outside. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks. Listen, I think we’ll just go.” There was no way I was ordering food from Giovanni’s now, not when I knew Ruth would spit in it.