We're not through with surprising connections, but first House needs to eat.

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Chapter 148.

When I left The Melting Pot, I had more answers, but also more questions. It was too late to return to the hospital, so I drove home, hoping I could bounce some things off Jess.

But she wasn't there. I knew she'd met earlier with her sister and their staff. I hoped there were no glitches this close to their first gig. So many things could go wrong with a catering operation.

I sat down at my piano. Perhaps playing some music would make all the threads harmonize, but all I got was a goulash of incompatible ideas. My fingers crashed on the keys and I stood. I was pouring some bourbon when Jess finally came through the door.

"What a day! You wouldn't believe what happened." Her hands flew up in the air.

"So, tell me already. I'm waiting with baited breath." I kept the accompanying eyeroll to a minimum.

"No need to get snarky. So, you know the company that we ordered the extra freezer from? They never showed up, and when we called, their phone was disconnected. The deposit alone was a chunk of change. I don't know if we have any recourse, either. Anyway, we called another place, but they can't deliver a freezer until Friday afternoon."

"The party isn't until Saturday."

"I know, but we need room to store the food that's delivered before then." She dropped down on the sofa like a rock. "Nina and I don't know what we'll do."

"Can't the restaurant supplying the food hold it until you have a freezer?" It didn't sound like such a problem to me.

"We asked, but Maison Phillipe needs room for the food for the restaurant. We can squeeze more into the freezer we have, but it's a big party and there's tons of food. This is a disaster!"

I'd never seen her so frazzled. "We can put some in our freezer."

"That's not much space, and besides, it's full of ice cream."

I shrugged. "So, we'll eat it and make room. And then there's Nina's freezer and Wilson's. Jess, we'll find a way."

She looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears and nodded. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

No woman had ever said that to me. It left me speechless. Finally, I swallowed. "Let's get started on that ice cream now. It'll make you feel better."

A fleeting, wan smile was her only reply.

I kissed her lightly and went to get us both bowls of chocolate goodness, covered liberally with syrup and a spritz of whipped cream.

We sat side-by-side on the couch, spooning the stuff into our mouths. My mind should have been on other suggestions for Jess, but it strayed to Marisa and her sister. "Beverly showed up today," I said between spoonfuls.

"Marisa's sister? What's she doing here? What did she want?"

"I'm glad you're sitting down, because you're in for a shock or two."

She stopped eating and narrowed her eyes.

"The sisters are closer than I thought. Bev's very protective of Marisa."

"Well, that's not much of a surprise, since she's older. But I still don't understand why she hooked up with Molino."

"Bertoli."

"Huh?"

"Beverly's biodad is Bertoli, and he asked her to get the goods on Molino."

"Oh. Oh!" Her eyes went wide and she finally smiled. "That explains a lot. So what did she find out?" Her worries about the freezer faded as her curiosity took over.

I told her what Bev reported to her father and me. She nodded a few times as if it was beginning to make sense.

"So, Francesca took the blame for their inability to have a child?" She frowned. "Boy, did that backfire!"

"Oh, and Tina's now working as a hostess at The Melting Pot."

Jess grinned. "That's great." Then she got that speculative look in her eyes. "I wonder if Bertoli has extra space in his freezers." So, her worries weren't buried that far.

I shrugged. "Call and ask him. And while you're at it, how about your uncle?"

She nodded as she got up and went to the land phone.

I listened to her and watched her face as she spoke to each of them. Based on her smile and relaxed shoulders, they were both willing to help her out.

She returned to the couch. "Success."

"Yeah, I could tell." I slipped an arm around her.

"And they both asked when we're coming in for dinner."

"No time like the present." I was already salivating.

Jess snickered. "You just stuffed your face with ice cream." She patted my stomach. "And your belly. Okay. I don't feel like cooking."

I could have asked whether she ever did, but knew the answer. "So, Italian or fondu?"

"I haven't seen my uncle in a while, although I'd like to meet this Beverly."

"She was going to visit Marisa again tonight, so I doubt she's still with Bertoli. I'm sure you'll meet her while she's in town." I didn't know how long that would be.

"Italian it is, then." She stood and held out a hand to me.

While we drove to Uncle Johnny's restaurant, she peppered me with questions about Marisa's sister.

"She's as pretty as my former patient but older and more sophisticated. She has a quality I can't explain, a little like you, actually." From the corner of my eye, I saw her raise an eyebrow.

"Sounds like you were impressed with her."

I smirked. "Ya think? Yeah. She's impressive, but she's not you." I didn't think she was jealous, but you never knew with women.

Jess was quiet for the rest of the trip. When we reached the restaurant parking lot and got out, she took my hand and squeezed it.

Johnny was standing at a table not far from the entrance when we walked through the door, but when he saw us, he came over with a big grin on his face. "When I said you should come by soon, I didn't expect you tonight."

"We were hungry." It was the truth.

He chuckled and kissed his niece's cheek. Then he had the hostess take us to a table.

I perused the menu, but I knew already what I wanted to eat, the veal Marsala.

Jess took a little longer to decide. "Everything looks so good."

"That's because you're famisheddespite your ice cream appetizer. You always like the chicken piccata here."

"Yes, but I'm in the mood for something with a tomatoey sauce." Her mouth twisted into a quirky smile. "Either the lasagne or the ravioli. Or maybe the cacciatore."

I rolled my eyes and sighed, as our waiter poured ice water and placed a basket of focaccia and crusty bread on the table, then poured olive oil over a plate of herbs.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked.

I ordered wine, and Jess nodded, then sipped her water. He went off to get the vino. When he returned, we placed our orders. Jess had finally decided on chicken pizzaiola.

Of course, Johnny came over to make sure we were being treated well.

I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions. "Where do you buy the fruit for your restaurant?"

"Fruit?" He seemed to be confused by the question. "You forget, I have my own fruit company."

I had forgotten. That was how he got started when he first came to the states. "Ever heard of Bernini Fruit?"

"Yes. They haven't been on the scene for long, but have taken some business from my company and built up a sizable clientele. Why do you ask?"

"We think Molino owns it. His thug, Giancarlo Bernini, lent his name to the company." I let him digest that.

His initial astonishment morphed into growing acceptance.

Just in time for me to drop the last piece of information. "One of the drivers for Bernini Fruit is none other than Mike Morgan."

"The same one who killed Jess' mother?" He looked at her with a sadness I hadn't expected.

"And Molino's wife, probably Lucy Locarno, and recently he attempted to kill Ellie."

He let out a whistle and sat down hard in a nearby chair. "You're sure?"

"I saw him at a piano bar soon after he made a delivery. I'm afraid I was a bit confrontational and now he seems to be, as they say, in the wind."

"The police are after him for driving into the front window of the bar in retaliation for what Greg said," Jess told her uncle.

"I shouldn't be surprised by any of this, but I am."

Our food arrived, piping hot and smelling fantastic. I picked up my fork. "But enough of talk about Molino and the web of intrigue around him."

Johnny nodded and stood again. "I'll leave you to your dinner."

I was happy to dig in. Not so Jess. "Uncle Johnny, before you go, have you talked to my father lately?"

"He was here for lunch yesterday, mostly to pump me about suppliers. I guess he's serious about starting his own restaurant."

I swallowed a mouthful of veal before saying, "I hope he'll be getting his fruit from you. All we'd need would be for him to contract with Bernini."

"I don't think he's gotten that far in his thinking. He was more concerned about linens and tableware."

"He wouldn't happen to have a freezer he can spare?" Jess asked, and Johnny and I laughed.

Johnny was called away to one of the other tables and we continued eating. Based on her orgasmic murmurs, Jess was happy with her dinner choice.

We were almost finished when I looked up and saw two people I hadn't expected to see together, let alone in this restaurant, Marcello Locarno and Beverly Bertoli Windermaker.

Jess must have seen my look of surprise, because she turned around. She smiled at the sight of Marcello and motioned him over.

"We didn't expect to see you two here tonight." Marcello grinned.

"We could say the same." Jess was talking to Marcello, but studying Bev.

"I thought you were going to visit your sister." My eyes were on both women so I saw when Jess realized this was Beverly.

"Greg's not so good on introductions." She smiled and held out her hand. "I'm Jess Giordano and you must be Beverly."

Bev took it and smiled back. "Nice to meet you."

"I didn't realize you two knew each other." This time I looked at Marcello.

"Oh, Bev and I go way back."

Another connection I didn't know of. So how did this piece fit into the puzzle?

"We were just finishing or we'd ask you to join us." Jess pointed to her empty plate.

But I wanted to hear more about how they knew each other. "Nonsense. We still have to have dessert." I pointed to the chairs at an empty neighboring table. "Pull up a seat."

While they did, Jess whispered to me, "We started with dessert at home."

"I thought that was an appetizer. I love the zabaglione here."

Our waiter showed up with menus, water, tableware and another basket of bread for the latecomers, then took their drink orders.

Bev quickly scanned the menu. "What did you have? Everything sounds wonderful."

We gave her a rundown of what we'd had and our favorites from past visits to the restaurant.

"Sounds like you come here often." She looked back at the menu. "I guess I'll have the chicken piccata with a bowl of minestrone before."

Uncle Johnny took that moment to appear again. I wondered if he, too, knew Bev, but he asked Jess, "Are these two friends of yours? Welcome to my restaurant."

"Uncle Johnny, this is Marcello Locarno and Beverly Windermaker. Marcello's company found us the space for our business, and Beverly..." Jess stopped, unsure of what to say about her.