“Well, you’ve been gone forty-eight hours,” I said with a pout. “I missed you.” Not that I minded, really. My honey’s trek to his hometown of Splendora, about an hour and a half north of Galveston, was a gesture of kindness. D.J. had agreed to do some construction work on his parents’ church. At no charge, of course. Just one more thing I loved about him—his generous nature.
“Sorry I was gone so long.” He held me close again. “But thanks for understanding. My parents send their hellos, by the way. Mama wants you to know she’s already picked out her dress for our wedding. She wanted to know if you thought red would be brazen, whatever that means.”
“Funny.” I laughed. “She knows our wedding colors are black and red, so red makes perfect sense. I’d rather she be brazen in red than mournful in black!”
“You have a point.” He gave me a smile, and my heart fluttered. “But you know how my mom is. She wants us to be happy, and if that means changing the color of her dress, she’s willing to do it.”
“Aw.” I grinned. Earline Neeley, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, was about the sweetest person I’d ever met. She and her church friends from Splendora would likely make our wedding unforgettable. They’d already impacted our lives in so many fun and quirky ways.
“I wish you could have heard me trying to talk my dad out of wearing his motorcycle jacket to the ceremony.” D.J. laughed. “He suggested we have a motorcycle-themed ceremony. He even went into detail about how we could accomplish that. I’ll spare you the details.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that one. “Did you tell him we’re going with a traditional Valentine’s wedding instead? No gimmicks?”
“Yeah, but he’s determined to sneak a Harley or two in there. If I tell him our wedding colors, he’ll probably have seat covers made to match. Oh, and by the way, he specifically asked if Guido was invited to the ceremony.”
I groaned as D.J. mentioned our family’s adopted parrot. “No. We left him off the guest list on purpose. Remember what happened the last time he showed up at a wedding?”
“How could I forget?” D.J. chuckled. “He stole my dad’s toupee.”
I shook my head, trying to push the image out of my brain. Oh, what chaos had transpired that horrible, wacky night! “Guido is a reformed bird now,” I said. “Well, sort of, anyway. I still don’t trust him in public arenas, so I’m going to have to put my foot down on this one. No birds at the wedding.”
“Except the lovebirds that happen to be flying overhead at the time.” D.J. winked, and my heart jolted. Oy, what this cowboy could do to me!
I gazed into his eyes and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You hungry?” I asked.
“Mmm.” He quirked a brow, and his blue eyes twinkled. “You have to ask?”
“Laz made his famous Caesar salad tonight, and Rosa’s cooking chicken parmesan.”
“With her garlic twists?” D.J. asked, his eyebrows elevating.
“Of course!” My aunt’s garlic twists were famous, not just on the island, but across the country. She’d recently been featured on a Food Network special, Italian Chefs from Coast to Coast. The fine folks at the network had offered her a show of her very own, but she’d turned them down after Laz declared his intentions. To her way of thinking, love trumped fame. I had to agree. Not that I’d ever been offered fame. Still, I had to believe I’d pick love any day.
“What’s for dessert?” D.J. asked.
“White chocolate raspberry cheesecake.”
At this announcement, we both closed our eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying a spiritual moment. Aunt Rosa’s cheesecake was nothing short of heavenly, after all.
After a moment, D.J. kissed my closed eyelids. “What are we doing standing out here then?” he asked.
As we walked in the front door, the pungent aroma of garlic and other spices caused us both to stop and draw in another lingering breath. Rosa’s cooking could do that to you.
“I’m learning to love that smell,” D.J. said with a nod.
“It ain’t chicken-fried steak,” I responded with a laugh. “Not exactly Texas fare. But you have to admit, Rosa’s the best cook on the island, and Laz comes in a close second.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what everyone is going to do without them once they get married.”
I shook my head, unwilling to think about that. We’d all secretly wondered if we would starve to death once Rosa and Laz found their own place to live. Rosa had always resided in the room next to mine, with Laz’s room just on the other side of hers. For as long as I’d remembered, she’d been a permanent fixture in both our home and our kitchen, where the magic took place. How would we make it without her? I had no idea.
“Looks like we’ll be visiting them often.” D.J. offered up a wink, once again melting my heart.
At this point, my Yorkie-Poo, Precious, greeted us by springing up and down repeatedly. I finally scooped her into my arms and planted a few kisses on her little head. “Were you a good girl while Mama was next door?” I asked in baby talk.
“Good?” Mama asked, approaching us. “You might want to check out what she did in Rosa’s room. She got into the silk floral centerpieces and chewed one of them up.”
“No way!” Not after all the work we’d done on them. I leaned down to scold her, then found myself captivated by her sweet little face. Maybe I could scold her tomorrow. The centerpieces were replaceable. My loveable pooch was not.
As we approached the living room, I heard Uncle Laz’s adopted parrot, Guido, singing “Amazing Grace.” Nothing unusual there. We paused to look at him. Though he drove me crazy at times, I was happy to see that Guido’s feathers were finally growing back in. He’d lost most of them over the summer—an allergic reaction.
When the song ended, the ornery parrot hollered, “Go to the mattresses!” then lifted his leg and let out what sounded like machine-gun fire. So much for saying the bird was reformed. Laz had been working with him for months now, but Guido was apparently still waffling. Another week or two and my uncle would surely have him walking the straight and narrow. No doubt about it. If anyone could work a miracle, Laz could.
Rosa and Laz headed into the kitchen to help Mama finish up our dinner, and I washed my hands, then went into the dining room to set the table. D.J. knew the routine, so he offered to help.
“How many?” he asked, holding up the placemats.
“Hmm.” I did a quick head count. “Nick, Marcella, and their boys …” I smiled, thinking about my oldest brother and his wife. They were expecting a baby in a few months. “What about Joey?” D.J. asked.
“Yes.” My baby brother would be there too, along with his fiancée. “Norah will be with him.” I paused a moment. “Armando won’t be here. He’s in Houston again.” I shrugged as I thought of my middle brother. He was always flitting off after some woman or another, usually on the mainland.
“Sophia?”
“Yes.” I smiled as my younger sister’s latest announcement resurfaced in my brain. “And here’s an interesting tidbit. She and Tony are dating. As in, seriously dating.”
“Wow.” D.J. almost lost his grip on the placemats at that announcement. No doubt. Seeing my sister with my ex-boyfriend still took a bit of getting used to. Personally, I thought they made a great couple and hoped things worked out for them.
D.J. composed himself, and his eyes narrowed as he did the math. “So, with your parents, Rosa, and Laz, that makes fourteen, right?”
“Sounds about right.” I nodded.
“Good thing you have a big table.” He pointed at the family’s oversized mahogany table, imported from Europe.
“I hate to break it to you, D.J., but every Italian family has a table like this. And it’s always filled with food and surrounded by laughter.”
“Then I wish I’d been born in Italy.” He released his hold on the placemats and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
“You’re marrying into a true-blue Italian family. That’s close enough.” I wriggled into h
is arms, and we enjoyed a kiss for the record books.
Just then, my pop walked into the room. He narrowed his gaze. “Hey, no PDA.”
Pop was half-kidding, but I knew what he meant. No public displays of affection. Not until after marriage, of course. D.J. and I backed away from each other as my father grabbed the placemats and started putting them in place.
“Oh, to be young again.” Pop sighed but continued his work.
“No one says you have to be young to be in love,” Laz said, entering the room. “Look at me and Rosa! I’ll be sixty-seven next month, and she’s—”
“She’s not keen on you telling everyone her age,” I threw in.
Laz grinned. “You’re probably right. But you don’t have to be young to be in love.”
Just then, the sound of swing music filled the room. Laz’s face lit up. “Ah. Rosa must’ve put in the Glenn Miller CD. We’re trying to get in the mood before our big day.” He laughed. “Get it? ‘In the mood’?”
D.J.’s bright red cheeks faded to a somewhat lighter color as Laz explained that “In the Mood” was the name of a Glenn Miller song.
We continued to set up the room for dinner, adding Aunt Rosa’s hand-painted plates from her beloved Napoli, silverware that had been in the family for over fifty years, and beautiful etched glasses Mama had purchased on her last European jaunt. When it was all said and done, D.J. and I stood back and stared at the table. He let out a whistle.
“Man. Looks like something out of a magazine.”
“Prettier than a magazine,” I added.
Rosa entered with a serving dish in hand. Chicken parmesan. The sauce still bubbled, and the melted mozzarella on top was perfectly browned. Yum! I could hardly wait to take my first bite.
The pungent aroma of garlic now permeated the room. I drew in a long breath, savoring every second. My mouth watered as I looked down at the table. The vibrant colors of the red tomato gravy and the crisp, green Caesar salad drew my eye. These, combined with the steam coming from the buttered garlic twists, made me so hungry I could hardly wait for the others.
Still, I must wait. Probably wouldn’t be very nice to dive right in ahead of the crowd. No, that sort of thing was left to Armando, who had a habit of beating the rest of us to the punch. When he bothered to show up, anyway.
By the time Rosa and Laz had the food on the table, the room was full. My brother Joey arrived first with his fiancée. Norah gave me a hug and commented on my new blouse, a silky green number I’d picked up on a recent trip to the Galleria in Houston. My older brother Nick arrived next with his boys, Deany-boy and Frankie.
“Hey, where’s Marcella?” I asked, looking around.
“She’s here. Just had to make a pit stop.”
True enough, Marcella walked into the dining room a couple of minutes later, her protruding belly leading the way. She looked miserably uncomfortable, in spite of her stretchy maternity attire.
“How’s it going at the florist shop?” I asked. “Did you get all of the flowers ordered for Rosa?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I finally found them at that great place in Houston near the medical center.” She released a groan as she took a seat. “Sorry if I seem a little out of sorts. I’ve been on my feet all day, and this baby is giving me fits.”
“Morning sickness?” I asked.
“No, that passed ages ago. I’m starting to feel him move now.”
“Him?” I quirked a brow in Nick’s direction, wondering if he and his wife had been keeping something from us. Marcella and Nick already had two boys. Two hyper, disobedient boys, who had now taken to fighting over where they were going to sit. I was holding out for a girl this time around. Surely her timely arrival would break the evil spell.
My sister Sophia entered the room moments later with my ex-boyfriend on her heels. I’d known Tony DeLuca for years. He was, as my mother put it, practically perfect in every way. Came from just the right family line in Sicily. Spoke fluent Italian. Was shockingly handsome. Still, I’d never truly fallen for him, and in the end, I’d broken his heart with my rejection of his affections.
Funny. As he gazed into my sister’s big brown eyes, he didn’t look heartbroken now. Tony had always enjoyed hanging out at the Rossi home. Perhaps he’d had the right address all along, just the wrong girl.
Not that I minded. Oh no. My gaze shifted to the one person whose heartstrings were looped with my own—D.J. Neeley. The background music changed to a familiar swing number, and I wanted to grab him by the hand and ask for a spin around the dance floor. Only, not now. Those tantalizing garlic twists still called out to me. There would be plenty of time for dancing later, especially if this swing music kept up.
Within seconds, everyone in the household was gathered around the table. My gaze shifted from my perfectly made-up mother to my father, who had actually combed his hair and put on a shirt for dinner. Then I transitioned my thoughts to Laz as he pulled out a seat for Rosa. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen this loving, tender side of him. Ah, what love could do to a crusty old heart! It had melted Uncle Laz like the mozzarella on top of the chicken parmesan.
“Let’s pray.” Pop’s voice rang out above the chatter of my other family members.
We all reached to take hands, though I noticed Deany-boy and Frankie refused to touch each other. Nothing new there. They would come around in time, surely.
I closed my eyes and listened as my father’s melodic voice rang out. Even after half a lifetime in the States, he still had that marvelous lyrical sound to his voice—kind of like water flowing over rocks.
When the prayer ended, everyone began to talk at once. To my left, Nick and Joey talked about something that had happened at Parma John’s. Marcella and Rosa talked about flowers. Mama told Pop about a website she’d found with great deals on European vacations. Laz and D.J. talked about music for the upcoming wedding. Sophia chatted with Norah about wedding dresses. Deany-boy and Frankie argued over a video game. The only one not talking was, well, me. Not that I minded. I was having too much fun just listening.
As always, the voices overlapped. I heard snippets of a thousand conversations.
“Are you thinking of using babies’ breath—”
“—to take a train to the wine country. Then we’ll move on to the Vatican. After that, we’ll—”
“—add a new pizza to our menu. I’m thinking it’s going to be—”
“—a great swing number that the band can play. And speaking of bands, we’ve hired the best one in the country. Wait till you see their—”
“—new video game! It’s the best. Even better than a—”
“—pink wedding dress? Are you kidding me? White is still the ideal color for a wedding dress, no matter what the bridal magazines try to tell you. Those—”
“—Double Delight roses have the prettiest petals I’ve ever seen in my life. Have you ever seen such a great mixture of colors and—”
“What a dish! This chicken parmesan is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. I’d like another—”
“Garlic twist, anyone?” Rosa held up the plate, and Nick reached for it, never dropping a line in his conversation with Joey about the new pizza they planned to add to the menu at Parma John’s.
Above the noise, a pinging sound rang out. I looked across the table to see Laz tapping his water glass with his spoon. “Attention, everyone. Attention. Rosa and I have an announcement to make.”
“You’re eloping?” Pop suggested with a smile.
“Over my dead body!” I whispered, chasing away the shudder that wiggled down my spine. They’d better not!
“I’ve talked about this for months, but I’ve finally decided to officially retire from the restaurant,” Laz said. “Want to give my undivided attention to our wedding and our wedding guests.”
“Isn’t that wonderful?” Rosa beamed with delight.
“Nick and Joey can handle things without me,” Laz said. “And if I can keep Jenna focused, I th
ink the transition will be fine.”
Keeping my best friend focused might be harder than he knew. She was, after all, in love.
Laz put his hand to his chest and spoke with a tremor in his voice. “I have more news to share. As you know, my good friend Salvadore Lucci has entrusted Guido to us for a season. I don’t take that season lightly. The Lord has given us this time to minister to Guido in the hopes that he will remember what he’s learned and share it with Sal when the time comes.”
I sighed, thinking about my uncle’s passion to reach out to his friend Sal. Call it desperation. Call it inspiration from on high. Laz had this idea that Sal would be won by the words coming from Guido’s beak, so he’d been filling the bird’s head with sermons, songs, and Scriptures. He called this the “Triple S” program.
I watched with tenderness wrapping my heart as Laz dabbed his eyes and whispered, “Chi la dura la vince.” I knew the translation, of course: “He who perseveres wins at last.” Laz would keep at this until the very end, if need be.
From across the table, Pop’s voice rang out. “What are you saying, Laz? Is Sal coming to get Guido? To take him back to Atlantic City?”
Laz nodded and his eyes filled with tears. “Yes. I’m gonna miss the old bird.” He dabbed his eyes. “Guido, I mean.”
“When is Sal coming?” Sophia asked.
Laz’s eyes lit with excitement. “One week before our big day. He will stay at the Tremont and help me with the wedding plans. In fact …” Laz’s eyes brimmed over. “Sal has agreed to be my best man.”
I stifled the gasp that threatened to escape at this news. Sal? Was he serious?
Nick looked at Laz in horror. “You picked someone with mob ties to stand up for you at your wedding? Are you kidding me?”
“Nicholas, please.” Laz shook his head. “Sal is seventy-six years old. Whatever ties he might’ve had have long since been severed. And, as you know, my primary goal is to win Salvadore Lucci to the Lord while there is still time, so please do not question my motives.”