Educating Gina

The memory made him look over his shoulder as he turned on the office lights. After he got the coffee started, he emptied his In box and started to sift through the reports and invoices that required his attention.

His mind kept wandering to Gina. She wasn’t easy to figure out. Did she have her family fooled? Or had she really been that sheltered? He couldn’t deny the unguarded innocence in her eyes or the uncertainty in her voice when she tried to assert herself. Don’t judge a book by its cover was one of his mother’s favorite sayings. Gina made a good case for that old adage.

“Hey, Mike.”

At the sound of Antonio’s voice, Mike jumped and dropped his pen. It rolled toward his desk clock. Seven-fifteen. “What are you doing here so early?”

Antonio grunted and reached into his pocket for a cigar. “It’s Gina.”

Shit! He was going to get fired. Or worse.

“I couldn’t go out last night,” Antonio said. “I had to stay home with her and got too damn much sleep. Where were you?”

“Me? Home. I, uh, figured she was too tired to go anywhere.”

“Tired? She drove me crazy. She has a list this long of places to go.” He held his hands an exaggerated distance apart. “I told her she has to wait for you to take her. I don’t know these young people’s hangouts.”

“I thought she liked hanging around libraries and computers.”

Antonio snorted. “Her mother likes her hanging around libraries and computers. Sophia is too old-fashioned. Gina should go to a dance or a movie sometimes. She should do what other young girls do.”

Mike didn’t think so, but he kept his mouth shut.

Antonio eyed the stack of paper in front of Mike. “You are not planning to work today.”

“I have a few calls to make and—”

“No. Gina is at home eating breakfast. She will be ready in an hour. Today I want you to take her to Central Park.”

“Maybe Robert can—”

Antonio gave his head an emphatic shake. “Robert is going to New Jersey to check a location for a new distribution center.”

“In Jersey?” That didn’t make sense. Not if they were looking into a West Coast site. They couldn’t afford two new locations at once.

Antonio shrugged. “It’s close and cheaper than any of the boroughs.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“No decision has been made.” Antonio waved an impatient hand. “Worry about Gina. Your work can wait.”

Mike bit back a curse. What the hell was going on? Was the West Coast proposal just a carrot to keep him placated for a while? He had to talk to Robert. “I’ll take care of your niece.”

“Good.” Antonio reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash stuck in a gold money clip. He threw a couple of large bills on Mike’s desk. “Tell her to buy something nice, huh?”

Mike watched him leave. He’d always liked Antonio. The man had been good to Mike’s mother, paying her a more-than-reasonable salary and being generous with bonuses for Christmas and her birthday. He’d been generous with Mike, as well. But he didn’t like the way Antonio ignored Gina. For all his talk about family being everything, he sure didn’t have much time for his niece.

Of course the Scarpetti men’s attitudes toward women were not always admirable. Not that they overtly disrespected them, but they coddled them too much, failed to give them enough credit for having any sense outside the home.

It surprised Mike that Gina had attended college. Made him wonder what she planned to do with her education. Probably enter the family business on the Italian end, where they made the wine. It was logical she’d stay there where her father and Antonio’s older brother Guisseppi ran the vineyard and harvested the grapes.

Other options could keep her in Europe, as well. Antonio’s other brother, Dominic, headed the wine distribution in Paris, and the younger one, Pietro, handled the marketing and warehousing in Rome. Gina would do well on the sales side of things. What red-blooded man wouldn’t want to place an enormous order with her? Sexist, he knew, but it was the reality of the male-dominated business.

So why did the idea annoy the hell out of him? Why his sudden interest in Gina’s future? He had enough to worry about keeping her out of trouble for the next month. And not getting himself fired.

He plowed through the paperwork that couldn’t wait, left a voice mail for Robert to contact him as soon as he got back and then grabbed a cab and headed home. If he was going to spend the day in Central Park, it wouldn’t be in a suit.

GINA SAT ON THE WINDOWSILL, staring down at the crowded sidewalk, watching the streams of people hurry to work. Many of the women wore suits and tennis shoes. An odd but practical combination, she figured, envious of their freedom of choice.

She wished she owned a suit. Mama thought they looked too manly. As if the ugly black dresses she liked Gina to wear were not too grandmotherly.

Sighing, she checked her watch. Would Mike ever show up? She hoped he was not angry about yesterday. All her courage had faded when she heard Zio Antonio outside the door, and she panicked. No harm had been done, though. Her uncle thought she had been in her room alone.

She slid off the sill and adjusted her skirt. Wearing skirts so short was not easy. She was constantly tugging and pulling and trying not to feel self-conscious. Some of her school friends had encouraged her. They wore skirts equally short, some of them even in front of their parents.

The knock at the door had her tripping over the unfamiliar high heels, and she hopped to the door on one leg, trying to adjust the fit. Before she opened it, she slipped the other shoe back on.

Mike did not look happy, and her mood fell. “Gina, why didn’t you ask who it was before you opened the door?”

She shrugged, more interested in the snug fit of his jeans and black T-shirt. “I knew it was you. Zio Antonio said you were coming.”

His gaze ran down the front of her, something in his eyes making her get hot and prickly. “Since I didn’t call from downstairs for you to buzz me in, you should have been more cautious. Next time find out who it is before you unlock the door. New York is not the safest place.”

“Why are you trying to frighten me?”

“I’m just trying to make you more aware.” He walked in and locked the door behind him. “Your uncle told me you wanted to go to Central Park.”

“Oh, yes. The sky is so blue and pretty. It would be a perfect day, yes?”

His eyebrows dipped in a frown. “Then why are you dressed like that?”

She looked down at the pink blouse tied at her waist and denim miniskirt. “You do not like this outfit, either?”

“I like it fine, but not for a day in the park. What if you want to sit in the grass?”

“I do not have any pants,” she murmured, and looked away.

“Pardon me?”

“Mama does not think women should wear pants.”

Mike laughed. “And she would want you to wear this?”

His amusement fueled her embarrassment. Sometimes her parents’ old-fashioned attitude made her ashamed. “No, but I sewed this myself in secret. Pants are harder and take longer to make.”

Surprise, then understanding flickered in his eyes, and he smiled. “How would you like a pair of jeans?”

“Oh, yes. The kind with a ripped knee or—”