He didn’t want her there anyway.

The point of the service was to honor his grandmother’s memory, not to entertain his mother’s stories about how awful her childhood had been because of so many made-up infractions.

He wouldn’t claim his grandparents had been perfect. No family was perfect, but his mother lived in a house made entirely of glass, so she was the last person who should be throwing stones.

“If there’s anything you need, please let us know. Of course you’ll spend Christmas at our home.”

“I don’t know—”

“I insist,” Bianca told him. “We have a traditional Italian feast, and my Angela makes the best panettone you’ve ever tried.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” he admitted, smiling at the affronted look he received. “But I know Angi is amazing in the kitchen.” He gestured to the table. “Have you tried the chicken samosas? I think they’re becoming one of her signature items at the inn. Emma told me guests request them when booking events.”

“I haven’t taken a bite of anything here.” Bianca said the words almost proudly or like a challenge. “Angi will soon be done with this place. Perhaps we’ll add panettone—which is a traditional Christmas bread—to Il Rigatone’s menu.”

“I’m going to check on her,” Gabe said, taking a step away from Bianca. “You should try some of the food. Give it a chance. One thing I learned from this week is not to let any moment pass you by.”

Bianca eyed the table like it was covered with slithering snakes. “Thank you for the suggestion,” she said, not sounding appreciative in the least. “I’m simply not hungry.”

Why did families have to be so complicated? Gabe wondered about the dynamics he’d never noticed before as he made his way past sympathetic guests toward the kitchen. His mom had been negligent bordering on abusive, and as a kid he’d thought he had it worse than anyone else he knew.

But maybe that was just an immature perspective. A lot of kids didn’t have anyone to give them unconditional love the way his grandmother had. And other children had expectations placed on their shoulders by well-meaning parents like Bianca.

In some ways that was almost worse. At least he could do his best to cut his mother out of his life and certainly out of his heart.

Angi loved her mom, even though their relationship taxed her nerves and heart.

“You’ve outdone yourself once again,” he said as he came through the swinging door into the kitchen. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs was heavy in the air. “I think you can take a break. The guests are starting to leave, and there’s still plenty of food left on the table.”

“I’m prepping for an office holiday party Emma’s hosting early next week. They want heavy hors d’oeuvres and a variety of cookies. I’ve been researching recipes that can be made and frozen ahead of time.” She placed a tray of something in the oven and then wiped her sleeve across her forehead. “If my mom forbids me to come over here again after today, I want to make sure Emma has what she needs.”