Chapter 2 #2
I nodded, having heard this song and dance before. The pizzeria had become something of a neighborhood institution over the years. But my grandparents’ reluctance to adapt to the changing times had left them struggling in a market that had long moved beyond traditional family-run businesses.
“And Dad’s had enough of it?” I prodded, reaching for another olive.
She motioned to the plate of snacks, urging me to eat. “Let’s leave it to him to handle. He’ll figure something out. Eat first. You’re too thin. Those long hours at the office are not doing you any good.”
“I have a dinner later,” I told her, but she waved me off and edged the plate closer. I plucked yet another olive from the plate to appease her.
“What is Dad going to do?” My mother shrugged a shoulder—I wished I could strive for her level of unbothered.
“Enough talk about business. That’s all we do in this house … business, business, business.” She let out a long sigh before mischief filled her eyes.
“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “I know that look.”
A smile played at the corners of her lips. “I ran into Nora Lauder at brunch this morning.”
I knew this was going in a direction I would not like.
“She mentioned that her daughter, Felicity, is back in the city from her time in London.”
And there it was.
As did everyone who grew up on the Upper East Side, Felicity and I had frequented the same circles growing up—between balls, dinners, and society events.
The two of us knew each other well. Which was how I knew she’d been in London for a “gap year”, even though she was years out of college.
It had been more of an attempt to find an eligible bachelor overseas because Felicity Lauder had scared off nearly every man that came from a family with status.
Let’s just say, “high maintenance” was a vast understatement when it came to her.
“Did she now?”
“I think you should reach out to her,” my mother continued, oblivious to my disinterest. “Ask her to lunch.”
“That’s a nice thought,” I murmured.
She reached out to wrap a hand over the top of mine. “I just want you to be happy again.”
“I am happy.” My hand turned over to squeeze hers.
“Felicity could be a great option. She comes from a wealthy family.”
“Why does that matter?” I asked. Money had never been in the conversation before with who I dated. “You didn’t marry for money.”
“No, I married for love.” My mother looked toward the study where her husband was finishing up his phone call with the kind of adoration in her eyes that people made movies about.
My father, Giacomo, walked into the room looking much happier than I’d heard from him through the front door earlier. He walked over to give his wife a kiss, even though he’d seen her minutes ago, and reached across the counter to shake my hand.
“Well, look who finally made it home,” he said, his deep voice warm, the anger that had been audible moments before nowhere to be found.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, returning the handshake. “You okay?”
He shrugged, his demeanor shifting to something lighter. “Of course I am. Everything’s fine.”
But he couldn’t fool me. “What happened with the restaurant?”
He hesitated for a moment, glancing at my mother. “It’s the same thing again, James,” he muttered, rubbing a hand through his thick dark hair. “They’re going to run the business into the ground. I’ve been trying to get your uncle to see reason, but …” He trailed off, looking away.
“You both are stubborn. It’s in the Rossi blood,” my mother chimed in, not missing a beat. She moved to pour herself a glass of wine, as if this conversation was already old news to her. “The two of you are far more similar than you are different.”
I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “How bad is it?”
“This is the third month in a row that we’ve had to float some cash into the business to keep them out of the red,” my father said, his voice now quieter, tinged with frustration. “I don’t know how much longer we can keep doing this.”
“I’ll help,” I said, without thinking.
Both of my parents turned to look at me.
“No,” my father said quickly, shaking his head. “You’ve got your own life to worry about. We’ll figure it out.”
But I was already firm in my decision. “I can’t just ignore this. It’s been a part of this family since the fifties. You’re not going to let it fail, are you?”
He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly exhausted. “I’ll handle it.”
“I’m not going to let it fall apart, Dad. Let me help.”
My mother placed a hand on my arm. “Enough about business. It’s not good for you to get worked up.”
But I couldn’t let it go. My family’s restaurant had always been a part of our lives, and I wasn’t going to let it slip through our fingers without trying to do something about it. Despite my father’s protests, I stood my ground.
“I’ll find a way to help,” I insisted.
He sighed. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I nodded, then glanced at my watch. “I’ve got to go, but we’ll talk more about this soon.”
As I headed toward the door, my father’s voice called out, a hint of pride in his tone. “It was good to see you, son. You should come around more often.”