19
Florence
"Nonna." I reach over and give my grandmother a gentle hug. "How're you doing?" I sit down on the couch next to her. With everyone at my parents' house for our weekly family dinner, it gets a little chaotic for her.
"La vita è bella, carino." Life is beautiful. "Tell me what's new in your life. How are things at the hospital?"
I groan. "Mostly good." I glance over at my brother and his kids. His youngest, Lena, is within earshot. "We had a little porcellino at work who was trying to take me out on a date."
"Doesn't he know that he's not exactly what you're looking for in that regard?" She hides a smile, but she can't hide the glint of amusement in her eye.
Lena comes over and gives Nonna a big hug.
"Sit down, carino," Nonna tells her. She settles on the floor between us. She's done this since she was three, after Joe told her you get smart by listening to Nonna. She does it to Mom, too, when Mom is sitting still—which isn't very often. Nonna switches to Italian. "Is he bothering you? You should report him."
I laugh. "I'm the top boss. Everyone reports to me."
"Why do you have a pig working in your office, Auntie Florence?" Lena asks, curious.
"Well," I tap her nose, "he was wearing the mask of a man until he showed his true colors. Now that we know what he really is, he can't work there anymore."
"Is he like il porcellino that he brings luck? Nonna told me that story, once."
"A little like that," I say. "But instead of bringing good luck to anyone who touches him, he brings bad luck to anyone he talks to."
"You should use duct tape to shut his mouth then," she declares. "Dad says duct tape can fix anything."
Joe bends over to greet Nonna before answering his daughter. "I said almost anything. Duct tape can't fix people, sweetie. We use our words to fix things with people." He winks at me. "Or you get your auntie to send them away."
Nonna laughs. "Giovanni. Don't teach your daughter to rely on others. She can stand up for herself." She turns back to me, her tone shifting. "Is he a real problem?"
I take her thin hands in mine. "He hasn't hurt anyone," I tell her. "We're taking care of the problem. I'm the boss, remember? No one acts like that on my watch." I squeeze her hands. I learned from the strong Italian women in my life not to take shit from anyone.
"Sometimes you've gotta muck the stalls," Lena says at our feet.
It looks like the next generation is learning that lesson, too. I ruffle Lena's auburn hair. "Sit on the couch, sweetie. I'm going to help with dinner."
I give Joe's wife Rosie a hug before looking around to see what still needs to get done. Mom has the food under control, so I help Rosie set the table. Joe and Dad are in the library with his older two kids.
"What's this I hear about a pig at work?" Mom asks sternly. "Do I need to come and kick some ass?"
"Mamma mia, don't talk like that in front of the kids," Rosie scolds.
Mom barks out a laugh. "You can't shelter them from the world, Rosella. It's better to prepare them for it."
Rosie looks at me and rolls her eyes. You'd think she hasn't spent the last fifteen years married to my brother and dealing with Mom and her attitude every single week . "Still," she mutters.
"It's fine, mom. The situation is handled. I have very talented people mucking out the stalls."
"Who needs to be mucked out of where?" Hettie asks, waltzing in the door with tiramisu in her hands.
"Just someone at work," I shrug off her question.
"Woodhouse?" she asks, glancing at me.
I glance over at Nonna and Lena on the couch before nodding to her. "The situation escalated. He's gone as of this morning."
She sticks the tiramisu in the fridge and pulls me aside, lowering her voice. "Did something happen?"
"He was digging around the whole C-suite, trying to figure out who I'm sleeping with. Stefanie told Gwen he's asked at least four of the EAs."
"So he believes you like women." She raises an eyebrow.
"I don't give a flying fuck what he believes. Carole and Cristine showed him the door this morning, and if he tries to make it an issue, he'll have lawyers on his ass. He already should, but it's better for the hospital if he goes quietly." I take a deep breath.
"You know some of the best lawyers in Delmont," she teases me. "You have my number if you need it."
"Dinner's ready," Rosie tells us. "Florence, can you help Nonna?"
Once everyone is seated and served, Mom checks in on everyone's week. This is one of my favorite things about being part of a big family. Every week, we get together with Nonna, Mom and Dad, and us kids. Grown-up kids. Catalina is in Italy, but the rest of us never miss the chance to be here and catch up with each other. Even though we've all grown a little too big for our britches, we keep each other grounded. Everyone except Hettie's husband, anyway—who's noticeably absent. Again.
Mom turns to Lena. "How's school, carino?"
"School is okay. Horseback lessons are more fun, though." She takes a bite of her spaghetti. "They started a chess club at school. I think I want to join it."
"You'd be better off playing against me every day," her eleven-year-old brother tells her. "You'd get bored playing other third graders."
"If you like it, we could find a teacher to work with you," Joe says, smiling at his youngest. "Did you know Aunt Florence used to be on the chess team when she was in college?"
"I think you should join the club at school, and if you like it you can explore more options," I tell her. She's eight, for heaven's sake. Let her be a kid.
"Tell your parents about Karl," Rosie encourages Joe.
"Who's Karl?" I ask, curious.
"One of the biggest numismatists in the Midwest. He had one of the biggest collections in the country—he passed away recently. There's a lot of speculation about what will happen to his collection, since he didn't have any family."
"I think I've heard of him," Dad adds. "Some of my old colleagues knew of him. He collected art, too, right?"
Joe nods enthusiastically. "Anything of value. The guy was loaded. He was also more than a hundred years old." He glances at Nonna. "Older than you, even."
She gives him a wistful smile. "Your Nonno would've been a century next year." Her first husband—Mom's biological father who died in the war, leaving a very pregnant Elena heartbroken and alone. He'd been stationed in North Africa, in Tunisia, working against the Axis powers from the inside. His heroism cost him his life.
"He was a good man, Mamma." My mom grew up with stories regaling her first daddy's bravery and heroism. The sacrifice he made to defend freedom, and the sacrifices Nonna endured as well. Nonno Roberto, who married Nonna when she was eight months pregnant, and supported her until he passed twenty years ago, settled for a lukewarm marriage to support his childhood best friend's widow. He was an amazing man, and—according to Mom—an amazing father.
"I want to know," Hettie says, pausing dramatically, "about Florence's new girlfriend."
Way to lighten the mood, little sister.
All eyes turn toward me.
"I have a date for the charity gala on Friday. It's not a big deal." I glare at Hettie.
"Insta says you're engaged to her," my oldest niece Paola says.
"Who is this Insta?" asks Nonna, absently rubbing her thumb against the inside of her ring finger, "and why does she know about this before I do?"
Paola laughs. "It's the internet, Grandma. Someone saw them together at a restaurant last week, and then at the fundraiser for the Cultural Center."
"Why does my granddaughter get to be on the internet just by going out to dinner?"
"She's famous around here." Paola rolls her eyes. "She's a very successful lesbian. That's important."
"That's pretty damn sexist," Mom mutters. "A man can love a woman and be successful, and no one thinks twice about it. Why can't a woman do the same thing? I thought women could do anything a man can do these days." She huffs. "It's a brand new century. Hell, it's a new millennium."
"Actually, I can do it better than a man." I purse my lips together to keep from laughing. "My job, I mean."
Hettie kicks me under the table.
"Grandma, it's not a new millennium anymore. It's been the two-thousands for almost twenty-five years," Paola says, deadpan.
Rosie looks at Paola. "Close your mouth and eat."
Lena looks at her mom. "That doesn't make sense. How is she supposed to eat if her mouth is closed?"
Hettie gives me a dangerously dirty look. "Tell us about Dr. Mueller, Florence."
"Her name is Josie." I give her a death glare. "She's a neurologist at the medical school. I like her." I shrug my shoulders.
Rosie looks at me. "I don't think I've heard you say that about anyone—not since Katie."
Katie was a casualty of my ambition. She needed more than I could give her. "Josie can handle me. She accepts me for who I am, and respects me for the position I hold."
"Marin says she's melting your edges," Hettie says, grinning. "I've seen how you are in a professional setting. You're the ice queen incarnate."
"What's an ice queen?" Lena pipes in.
"It's a boss lady who acts like no one is ever good enough for her, but then a pretty lady comes along and melts her ice cold heart so she can fall in love." This comes from Paola, and leaves everyone in a stunned silence for a long minute.
I see Joe reach over and put a hand over Rosie's. He used to do the same to me when we were kids. It was a warning not to overreact.
"That's exactly what an ice queen is." I wink at Paola and see Joe let out a long breath. "Only I'm not an ice queen. I have lots of people who work for me who are very good at their jobs. I only keep people who are good at their jobs and respectful of other people."
"When do I get to meet this woman of yours?" Nonna asks.