“You sell yourself short, that’s your problem.” Pop zeroed in on Harry’s sore spot, dug around. “That’s always been your problem. You think these people care about your past? Heck no; they care about what you’re doing for this town, the kindness you show people in need, the help you give them.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just the rich guy with the fancy clothes and the swimming pool.”

“That’s about as far from the truth as saying I lost my taste for pizzelles.” Pop pushed his empty plate aside, leaned forward. “I know what you’ve been doing, Harry: sending groceries to some of the needier families, paying tuitions, taking care of hospital bills. And how about the check you wrote for the library books and computers? You really thought I wouldn’t find out? You can make every last one of them swear an oath of eternal silence, but Pop Benito’s the best puzzle solver there ever was and he’ll figure it out.”

“So, you figured it out?” Harry looked away, concentrated on the coconut cream pie in the display case. Maybe he’d buy a piece for Christine and drop it off, and he’d get Lily a cream puff—

“Ignore me all you want, but you’re next in line for the Godfather of Magdalena. Oh, I can see you still think you don’t deserve it, but even the most questionable of men rise to the occasion when called upon.” He paused, lowered his voice to a whisper, “Like me. I wasn’t always the logical do-gooder you see now. There was a time I’d have rather primped and postured than listen to a sad tale and call for help. But one day necessity came knocking and I had to make a choice. Necessity changes a person, Harry. Mark my words, when the time comes, you’ll do what needs done for the good of Magdalena and people will be proud to call you the Godfather of this town.”

Chapter 5

When Harry Meets Stephanie

A Family Affair: The Gift

Bonus Scene

“Harry, this is so sad. The Casherdons will live day to day, never knowing when that woman will show up and want her son back.” Greta’s blue eyes misted, her German accent thickened with her next words. “What kind of person creates stories like that woman did? Dying? Pretending Cash is that poor boy’s father? Why would she do such a thing?”

Harry clasped his wife’s hand, squeezed. She still didn’t understand the workings behind a devious woman’s mind, how she spent her existence perfecting ways to “trap” a guy. He’d been one of the lucky ones, but how many guys had been caught by treachery involving long legs and big breasts? Yeah, how about that? And how many had ended up getting pinned with the “you’re going to be a father” even when the woman had sworn there was nothing to worry about: she was on the pill, couldn’t get pregnant, had her tubes tied…yada, yada. And it didn’t matter how many times you used protection because there could be one or two times—like when the woman had you so ramped up you just wanted to do the deed—that you didn’t use anything. Gotcha! A few weeks later, you were informed you’re going to be a daddy.