35. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
Marcy
Patrick would have his hands full with this plan of Bea’s, which involved an unsuspecting Eric Ribben and what sounded like an afternoon of presentation slides (I pleaded the fifth on that, to which Patrick reminded me was not the right context—oh well). Which left me to sort out the scattered remains of my relationship with my grandmother.
Patrick walked me out to my car after having told him it was time to face my matriarchal nemesis. “You’re going now? But I promised I’d be there with you.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to do this alone. Not because I don’t want you there, but after what you’ve been through with your parents today, I think you could use a break. Is that okay?”
He cupped my cheek in the way that made my knees weak. “Of course. Thanks for telling me you’re doing this and why. It matters with our whole united front campaign.”
I kissed his cheek. “We aren’t a campaign. Thankfully.”
“I stand corrected.” He pulled me back for another kiss.
At my parents’ house, I found Nonna Russo out back, sitting in a patio chair with a blanket over her shoulders and another draped across her lap. Sunglasses on even though gray clouds muted the sky. She wasn’t doing a darned thing. No tea, no phone, just a lone lady who’d commanded a party planning army mere days ago, watching over her land. Er, the yard.
She eyed me as I sank into the empty chair beside her. “Ah, the prodigal granddaughter returns.”
I spun toward her and the plastic chair squeaked in response. “Oh, for the love. Let’s stop with the dramatics. Did you know?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Did you know what I’d planned to do with the money? Is that why you gave it up so easily? To watch me squirm? To corner me and Patrick with that bombshell sudden wedding, to get me to ’fess up in front of everyone? Were those contract clauses even real? Was anything other than the money actually real?”
Whew, I was out of breath.
“I suspected you had a secret, but I wasn’t sure what. You’d been spinning your wheels for several years. All three of you kids have, and Lucas too, until he met your friend Hudson, who whipped him into shape.”
“Nonna, Lucas is very much in shape. He splits logs at camp like they’re toothpicks.” I knew she meant metaphorically in shape, but I couldn’t resist.
“Your great aunt was right when she said things used to move faster, with marriage and figuring out one’s life. But we didn’t have as many choices then. Women have always worked, some had to work jobs outside the home, but we were only starting to see more of us shift from nursing to doctors and surgeons. From secretaries to VPs and CEOs. These infinite choices seem to cause you children to freeze up. When I checked in on my investments, I was happy with the amounts and decided a shake-up would be an interesting experiment. ”
“You experimented on us?”
“What is life but an experiment?”
I made a stink face at her.
“You kids were stuck. So I threw money at you to see what you would do.”
Well, there it was. The whole bald truth. Not even actual money, but the promise of money. The idea of money.
“In a few days’ time we had two engagements.” She laughed. “Two! Oh, that dinner was the highlight of my year. The look on your father’s face when he ordered that wine!”
I couldn’t believe she was laughing about this. “You experimented with our lives!”
“I offered you opportunity. You did the rest.” Her attention was caught by a squirrel hopping past, then skittering up the big tree. “I knew you and Patrick loved each other. You were just too stubborn to do anything.”
“The clause? Being thirty or married?”
“Oh, it’s real. You saw the contract yourself. My attorney and I had a laugh over it. She’s close to retirement herself and has a son who won’t commit to a relationship. She’s thinking of trying the idea on him.”
“This is outrageous!” I stood and paced the concrete patio. “Is this really a joke to you? We deceived a lot of people!”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
Okay, fair point. I was just so mad about all of this. She’d nearly ruined my future with Patrick. Nearly. I needed to think through this more later over a pint of froyo and junky reality TV, but right now I had to get the rest of this off my chest.
“I love baking. I really love it. You’ve told me so many times how hard it is to run a bakery and that you don’t want that path for me. Are you upset I’m choosing to do this? That I went behind your back to plan to open my own bakery? ”
“I don’t want you running a bakery,” she said with zero hesitation. “It’s hard work. I want you in an easier occupation so you can enjoy your life and not have to feed your business every waking moment because you can’t afford for it to fail. I want stability for you.”
Of course she hadn’t changed her mind. I was the one who needed to change here. I needed to be strong enough to say, I want this anyway .
“I want a bakery anyway. I’m not ignoring what you said, but I don’t think I can live any other way. I tried what you wanted and I’m not happy.” She was listening, so I pressed on. “I don’t expect my life to be sunshine and roses all the time. It isn’t now and it won’t be with a bakery. It’s already been so hard determining whether to lease or buy, how I would fund the first six months, which restaurants and stores need bread suppliers, how to get top grade equipment at the best price, the licenses…it’s a lot.”
“And you did that? You figured all of that out?”
“Most of it. Yeah.”
“Then I’m incredibly proud. Instead of wishing and wanting, you did something about it. And on top of that, you’re engaged to a wonderful man.”
I smiled like a dork. Patrick was pretty great. “You’re not mad?”
“Dear, being mad is not the issue. I wish I could protect you from hardship. I’ll always want that. I wanted that for my children too, and we did the best we could to pay for their education. It was more affordable then, but still a struggle. In turn, they worked hard to provide for you. When I sold the bakery and my house and moved here, I wished I’d done it years earlier to help take care of you all. To give your parents a break. We do these things out of love, not because we demand perfection. If a bakery is what you’re passionate about, you go, girl.”
I groaned. “No. Please don’t say that again. Ever.”
She laughed. “Didn’t you have that on a T-shirt? ”
“When I was seven!”
“That’s like yesterday to me.” A faraway look crossed her eyes. “Even Matteo seems to have found a steady relationship. That Carmen is a real class act. Robby, we need to work on.”
“Don’t pressure him to date. It’s not cool, Nonna. Just let him be.”
“Maybe he’ll go on tour with his garage band.”
“He just wants to practice in a garage.” Never mind, I didn’t want to bust on Robby without him here. Where was the fun in that?
I sensed my anger fading. I couldn’t stay mad at Nonna forever. I loved her too much. She might have nearly ruined my life but I’d been a willing participant in my own shenanigans. “I love you, Nonna. I’m sorry I didn’t share the truth before.”
“I’m afraid I made it difficult to share that truth. When I saw you talking to the baker at the wedding expo, I suspected the entrepreneurial bug had bit.”
“Ew. Bugs and cakes, Nonna? No.” If I didn’t joke, I’d lose it. I was tired of crying.
“I love you too.” She paused. “I’m sorry about the surprise wedding. I went too far.”
I dug out my phone from the pocket of my jacket. “Can you say that again? Let me get this recording. Talk plain and clear.”
“I apologized, and that’s that. Father Messina is interested when you and Patrick have a new date set.”
“Joke’s on him—we’re going to the courthouse.” I shivered. “Come on, let’s go in.”
I held my arms out to help her out of the chair. She stood and flipped her sunglasses to her head. “You are not doing a courthouse wedding. Your mamá will throw a fit.”