When Wishes Collide Read online

  WHEN WISHES COLLIDE

  Barbara Freethy

  WHEN WISHES COLLIDE

  @ Copyright 2011 Barbara Freethy

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact: [email protected]

  Also available in the Wish Series

  A Secret Wish

  Just A Wish Away

  When Wishes Collide

  Prologue

  July …

  Adrianna took off her white long-sleeved chef's coat and tossed it into the laundry basket in the break room of Vincenzo's Restaurant. She then released her long, brown hair from a constricting tie, feeling an immediate release of tension, as the waves cascaded down her shoulders. It had been a long, exhausting night in the kitchen, but it was the kind of exhaustion she loved. Becoming a chef had been her dream since she was a little girl, and at twenty-eight she was beginning to make a name for herself.

  Lindsay Rogers entered the room and gave her a tired smile. The tall, willowy blonde was one of the sous chefs and also a good friend, which sometimes surprised Adrianna, because they were as different in personality as they were in looks. Lindsay was outgoing, funny, and while she liked her job, Lindsay wasn't particularly ambitious. Adrianna had a quieter sense of humor and was far more focused and driven. But then she hadn't had time for a lot of fun in her life. Survival had been her single focus for as long as she could remember. One day, she wanted to get to that place where she could relax, take a breath, look around and see what she'd been missing. But that day wasn't today.

  "That last party took forever to leave," Lindsay said, as she removed her jacket. "Toast after toast until they were all drunk. Will had to call two cabs to get them out of here."

  She smiled. "They were having a good time. That's what it's all about." Nothing made her happier than watching people enjoy her food and enjoy themselves.

  "I guess." Lindsay rolled her head around on her shoulders.

  "We're lucky business has been so good," Adrianna added. "The winter was very slow."

  Throughout January and February, she'd been worried that the restaurant might have to close because the owner and executive chef, Giovanni Ricci, was having health problems. Fortunately, his nephew, Stephan, had stepped in and taken over, turning things around in just a few months. She missed Giovanni's tutelage in the kitchen, but because of his absence she'd also gained more responsibility. Her life always seemed to be a mix of good and bad.

  "The customers are coming because of you," Lindsay said as she stepped up to the mirror to apply some lip gloss. "Your reputation is growing. Stephan is about a day away from making you executive chef."

  "I'm not so sure about that. In sixty years, Vincenzo's has never had an executive chef who wasn't a Ricci."

  "That's true, but while Stephan is a competent chef, he's better in the front of the house. He loves to market and greet customers. You're the one who makes the magic in the kitchen, and Stephan is smart enough to know that. You're pretty much doing the job anyway," Lindsay added, as she turned around. "And you know Will is talking you up to Stephan every chance he gets."

  "He's been very supportive," she said. Will Grayson was the head bartender, and her boyfriend, although, it still felt a little strange to think of him in those terms. She and Will had been friends for four years until a coworker's wedding reception and a lot of champagne had taken them from friends to lovers.

  "Speaking of Will -- he seems distracted lately," Lindsay said. "Is something going on with him?"

  "Nothing that I know about. He was probably just stressed with all the big parties we had tonight."

  "You're right. You need to take him home and make him feel better, as only you can," Lindsay said with a teasing smile. She moved away from the mirror, grabbed Will's jacket off the coat rack and tossed it to Adrianna.

  As the jacket flew through the air, something fell out of one of the pockets onto the floor.

  Lindsay and Adrianna both reached for it at the same time, but it was Lindsay who came up with the blue velvet box.

  "Oh my God," Lindsay said, meeting Adrianna's gaze. "Will is going to propose to you."

  Adrianna stared at the ring box in shock and wariness. "No. It's way too soon."

  "You've been friends forever."

  "But not boyfriend, girlfriend. That's new. Don't open it," she warned as Lindsay's fingers toyed with the lid.

  "Why not? Don't you want to see the ring?"

  "We don't know that it's an engagement ring. It could be something else."

  "Only one way to find out."

  "No." She shook her head and scrambled to her feet, worry and panic running through her. She wasn't ready for an engagement, for marriage, or even for a promise. She didn't want Will to give her a ring of any kind.

  "If it's a bad ring, you'll have a chance to compose your reaction when he shows it to you," Lindsay said practically, as she stood up. "You don't want to have a look of disappointment on your face. I know you would try to be polite, but let's be real, a sucky ring is not the way to start out a marriage."

  "I don't want to see it," she said quickly.

  Lindsay frowned. "What is wrong with you?"

  How could she explain to someone who was as easy and casual about love as Lindsay that for her love, marriage, and family was a huge dream but also a terrifying proposition? She'd locked her heart away a very long time ago, and while Will had been chipping away at her resolve to stay detached, he wasn't even close to breaking through. How could Will think otherwise?

  "Please, put it away before he comes in here," she said shortly.

  "Okay, okay, calm down." Lindsay slipped the ring box back in Will's jacket pocket and hung the jacket on the rack. "There -- it's out of sight. And we'll pretend we never saw it."

  "Good," she said, blowing out a breath.

  "Can I ask why you're so rattled? I thought you and Will were happy together." Her gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "Don't you want Will to propose? I thought you two were getting along really well."

  "I haven't thought about it. It's all about work for me right now. And I thought it was for him, too."

  "Oh, I don't think so, Adrianna. Will isn't as driven as you are, but then nobody is." Lindsay gave her a soft smile. "I'm going to go. I have a late date. It's Jack – as in Jack who gives me a heart attack because he's so hot."

  "Lucky you," she said, thrilled that the conversation was no longer about her.

  "Call me tomorrow. I want to know what happens with the ring."

  As Lindsay left the break room, Adrianna stared at Will's jacket for a long moment. Maybe it wasn't what she thought. Perhaps the ring belonged to someone else. He might be holding on to it for one of his friends.

  Despite her rationalization, there was still a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. Will had always been the one after her, the one pushing for more. But he also knew her better than anyone else, so he had to know she wasn't ready.

  With a sigh, she grabbed her own coat and bag and returned to the kitchen. The room was empty. Everyone had left, except for Will, who was staring at his phone with an odd expression on his face.

  "Everything okay?" she asked.

  He looked up and nodded, but his gaze was distant, as if he were thinking about something else.

  "Are you sure?" she prodded.


  "I need to talk to you, Adrianna."

  "That doesn't sound good."

  His eyes darkened. "It's not bad. It's just … important."

  Her stomach tightened. "Can we do it later? It's been a really long night. I'm exhausted, and I just want to go home and fall into bed."

  His lips turned down into a frown. "I don't think this can wait until tomorrow. I've been putting it off, and I can't do it any longer."

  "Well, it has to wait a few more minutes," she said, stalling for time. If he did ask her to marry him, what on earth would she say? No would hurt his feelings. But yes didn't work either. She wasn't ready to get married. She set her bag on the counter and picked up the box she'd left out. "I promised the kids pizza."

  Disappointment and annoyance filled his eyes. "Adrianna, you told me three days ago you would call the police about those homeless kids."

  "I will – tomorrow."

  "You always say that. I understand that you had problems with the system when you were a kid, but it's there for a reason. Those children need more than leftover pizza."

  He was right, but she was still debating her options. About a week ago, she'd found three kids digging through the trash, and she'd given them a hot meal. Since then they'd come by the restaurant almost every night around closing time. She didn't know if they were homeless or neglected, but she knew they needed help. She also knew that they weren't going to let her help them if they didn't trust her.

  "I'll be back in a minute." She grabbed the pizza box and headed out the back door into the alley behind the restaurant. She was only a few feet away from the door when three kids emerged from the shadows.

  The oldest, a boy, seemed to be about twelve. Then there was a girl around ten, and a younger child, who appeared to be about eight. She'd tried to get their names, but only the boy had been willing to tell her that his name was Ben. He'd assured her that they had somewhere to stay; they just needed food. He'd begged her not to call the police, and his words had hit a nerve. She'd once been a child of the street and sometimes a back alley was safer than a foster home.

  But sometimes it wasn't.

  She needed to think like an adult now.

  "This can't go on," she told Ben, holding the pizza hostage until she got some answers. "You shouldn't be out alone this late. It's not safe or healthy. I want to help you, but you're going to have to tell me more about your situation."

  "We just need a little extra food."

  "Where are your parents?"

  "They're coming back tomorrow. We'll be fine then," he said.

  She didn't believe him. She glanced from him to the two girls. The older girl looked so sleepy she could barely keep her eyes open, but the younger one was alert, wariness in her bright blue eyes.

  "Can we have the pizza?" Ben asked.

  "Who's watching you until your parents come back?"

  "My mom's friend," he said.

  "And where does this friend think you are right now?"

  "She works til late. We'll be home before she gets there."

  "Why don't I take you home?" she suggested. "I'll just get my coat and bag."

  "It's not far from here. We'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

  "I want to help you, Ben."

  "The food is enough," he said.

  Before she could continue the argument, she heard a crash, followed by two loud pops.

  It took a second for the sounds to register in her brain.

  Gunshots!

  Her heart jumped into her throat. She'd grown up in neighborhoods where gunshots were not that uncommon, but this was North Beach, an upscale part of San Francisco. It didn't make sense.

  She looked down the alley and saw two dark, hooded figures running down the street. A sudden terror swept through her. Had the shots come from inside the restaurant?

  Oh, God!

  Will was alone in the kitchen.

  She ran through the back door, praying that the shots had come from somewhere else. The kitchen was empty.

  "Will," she screamed.

  No answer.

  Running into the dining room, her worst fear came true. Will lay on the floor near the bar, blood pooling around his head.

  "No!" she screamed, dropping to her knees.

  His open eyes stared back at her, but there was no longer any life in them.

  "You can't be dead," she said, shaking her head in denial. "You can't be. You have to wake up. This is just a bad dream. You're all right." She put her hands on his face. His skin was still warm. She needed to do something, CPR, call 9-1-1, but even as she pressed her hands against his chest, she knew it wasn't going to matter.

  Will was dead.

  Sirens split the air, and then cops were coming in the door, pulling her away from Will, asking her questions, setting up crime scene tape, and all she could do was stare at the man who had been her best friend, her lover, and if she'd never left the restaurant, maybe her fiancé.

  Chapter One

  August …

  Seven weeks had passed since the robbery at Vincenzo's had left Will dead and destroyed her life. Adrianna had run through all the stages of grief -- shock, denial, pain, guilt, anger, bewilderment, and depression. Now she was supposed to be able to move on with her life, but so far she hadn't been able to do anything but cower in her apartment, watch daytime talk shows, attempt to find some sort of interest in knitting and avoid her kitchen and anything that had to do with cooking. Cooking had once been her therapy, but every time she saw the gleaming steel of her appliances, she was reminded of Will, of Vincenzo's, of a life that had been so good but had gone so wrong.

  She'd hoped the police would find Will's killer or killers and that justice would bring closure, but that had yet to occur. There were no witnesses. Vincenzo's had had no security cameras operating. They'd planned to put in cameras during a future remodel. The only motivation for the robbery seemed to be money. The police believed that Will had surprised the thieves and possibly attempted to stop them, resulting in his getting shot.

  It was difficult to come to terms with a murder so random, so impulsive, so impersonal. But there didn't seem to be any other explanation, not that any other explanation would have changed the results. Will was dead. She'd lost a friend, and the world had lost a really good person.

  Adrianna drew in a quick breath as she stepped out of her apartment building into the sunshine. Being outside made her feel shaky and uncertain. She'd gotten used to the shadowy interior of her one bedroom apartment, and she rarely ventured out unless she absolutely had to.

  Today, she absolutely had to …

  Stephan Ricci wanted to talk to her about her job, her future, and she couldn't put him off any longer. Stephan had reopened Vincenzo's three weeks after the shooting. He'd told her that he'd added new security measures and had made cosmetic improvements to the restaurant so that it wouldn't feel the same to either the staff or the customers. But she doubted a coat of paint and new furniture would erase her memories.

  It was different for the others. They hadn't been there that night. It was easier for them to return to work. They hadn't witnessed the tragedy first hand. They hadn't ended up with Will's blood all over their clothes. She shuddered at that thought and wondered if she'd ever be able to remember Will without remembering him staring up at her with unseeing eyes.

  Stop it, she told herself. Stop going back there.

  As she walked down the sidewalk, she tried to think of something else. Her apartment building was only a few blocks from Vincenzo's, and ordinarily she enjoyed the walk to work. North Beach was known as San Francisco's Little Italy, and there were plenty of red-checked Italian cafés and old world delicatessens. There were also coffee houses that didn't just serve up lattes but also hosted poetry nights, folk singers and jazz musicians. There was plenty of nightlife in this part of town.

  There was also lots of shopping. Vintage clothing stores sat next to art galleries, and upscale boutiques competed with cozy bookstores selling books abou
t the history of the city, the tale of immigrants, the rush for gold, the first stories of the Barbary Coast. Adrianna loved feeling like she was connected to a rich and vibrant past. She didn't have family connections, but she was part of a city neighborhood that was very special.

  The warm summer weather, the strolling tourists, the kids eating ice cream by the park, the clang of a nearby cable car reminded her of a life she'd been missing. She just needed to find a way to stop being afraid. Fear was something she'd grown up with, and she'd thought she'd put that feeling of uncertainty behind her, but one random act of violence had reminded her that she could never truly be safe or in control of her destiny. Life was about chance.

  The irony was that the worst night of her life was being followed by the invitation to accept her dream job. Stephan wanted her to be the executive chef of Vincenzo's. She'd spent the last ten years working toward this exact goal. How could she say no? On the other hand, how could she go back into the restaurant, look at the floor, and not see Will's blood? How could she enter the kitchen and not hear Will tell her that he wanted to talk to her about something important? How could she go into the break room and not see his jacket or the blue velvet ring box?

  She didn't know what had happened to the ring. Will's parents had driven down from Marin and taken charge of clearing out his personal belongings from both the restaurant and his apartment. They'd never mentioned the ring to her, but then they didn't seem to know anything about her relationship with Will. She'd tried to express her sorrow to Will's mother, but the woman had been cold and distant, and uninterested in her condolences.

  When she had asked about the funeral, his mother had told her there wouldn't be one, that Will would be cremated and his ashes would be spread at sea. She'd known Will had not been close with his parents, but she'd never realized the extent of their estrangement. Not that it mattered anymore.