Chapter 11 #2
Winnie shook her head. “No. I’m not very well-traveled, unfortunately.”
“No semester abroad?”
“No. I only went to community college for a couple of semesters. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, so I stopped going. Seemed like a waste of money, honestly.”
“Most kids in college are absolutely wasting money. Or their parents’ money, at least.”
“Right? Harlow did undergrad and law school, and now she runs a bookstore. At least she had scholarships.” Her face flickered. “But it was still time well spent. I mean, she had my nephew in that time period. And met Rosie.”
“Mm.” Seven years of higher education to run a bookstore?
It was a good thing she’d gone on scholarship, or her debt would be staggering.
He sipped his drink. He rarely ordered a cocktail, but he supposed the practice wouldn’t hurt.
Most doctors he knew drank at least once in a while, given the state of healthcare these days—being threatened and heckled by ignorant mobs during the pandemic who then came mewling back for medical advice when they got sick.
Having insurance companies dictate which tests were necessary, which medications were needed, how long a patient should stay in the hospital.
The high cost of medical school and medical malpractice insurance.
There was reason to drink. It made him glad to be a surgeon, not the poor beleaguered general practitioners or ER doctors like Lark.
“Would you guys like a table, or would you like to stay right here?” asked the bartender, his eyes on Winnie. “I mean, I have to say I’d miss you if you left.”
“What do you think, Satan? Stay here? It’s pretty cozy.”
He had been about to ask for a table, but he paused when she called him Satan. It was growing on him. “Whatever the lady wants,” he said, wondering if he sounded stupid.
“We’ll stay,” she said to the bartender. The bartender handed them dinner menus, winked at Winnie—inappropriate—and left again.
“Did you ever live abroad?” Winnie asked.
“I did a six-month fellowship in Denmark, and two stints with Doctors Without Borders. One in Haiti about five years ago, one in Palestine six months ago.”
“Wow. How long were those?”
“Because I’m a surgeon, the time periods were shorter. Nine weeks in Haiti, seven in Gaza.”
She nodded, looking at him, toying with the toothpick that had held the olives in her martini glass. “Good for you, Lorenzo. I bet you did some great work there. They must’ve peed themselves when you showed up.”
He smiled a little. “Hopefully not.”
“Well, as you like to tell me, you are the shit.”
“I’m quite sure I’ve never used those words.”
“Semantics. Let’s order. If I order spaghetti and meatballs, will you think I’m a peasant? Or, rather, will that reinforce your view of me as a peasant?”
He started to answer, to tell her that her services were quite helpful, he did not regard her as a peasant at all when he realized she was making a joke. “Get whatever you want.”
“Only if you do, too. And I’m not talking about which meal has the highest nutrient count or whatever. Get something you really want. Something that makes your mouth water. I mean, if you can stand to bend the rules for one night, Dr. Santini. You’re already doing so well by ordering a martini.”
She smiled at him, and suddenly, his brain locked. Not because of anything…romantic. Just because Winnie Smith’s smile made her face something he wanted to study. To memorize. She had gone from a somewhat plain-faced woman to utterly…intriguing. Which came as quite a surprise, to say the least.
Chi studia un bel sorriso, dimentica la strada di casa, Noni used to say. He who studies a beautiful smile forgets the way home. A warning. Winnie seemed to be waiting.
What was the question? Ah. Dinner. “I’ll have the lasagna, in that case. I’ll have to run twelve miles tomorrow to pay for it.”
“Or not. You could get a salad, too, which would erase all that delicious cheese and meat.”
“It wouldn’t,” he said.
“No! Really? Then I’ve been lied to my whole life,” she said, smiling again.
Maybe it was the warm and cozy restaurant, or the rain that had started outside, or the gin in his admittedly excellent dirty martini.
Maybe it was because the bartender had finally gotten busy enough to leave them alone.
Maybe because Winnie Smith was being friendly and cheerful, but Lorenzo was having…
a very nice time. A relaxed time in which he was smiling occasionally and asking an attractive woman questions about her life and listening to the answers, mostly interested to hear what she had to say.
And luckily, he told himself, there was no chemistry between them, which would’ve made things complicated and difficult. No, he hadn’t touched her. Unless you counted on the airplane, but he thought he could be excused for that. She’d been in crisis. He had intervened.
“How did you get involved with that idiot from the airport?” he asked as they shared an unplanned order of focaccia with an olive tapenade.
“I ate in his restaurant. He was the chef, came out, chatted me up, asked for my number.” Emotion flickered under her skin, but her expression didn’t change.
“I didn’t know he was married. His wife obviously found out.
She hired me to throw her five-year-old a birthday party, and outed me as a scarlet woman.
My brother even got me a great sweater with the letter A embroidered on it. ”
That didn’t seem very supportive. Then again, Lorenzo himself had done some assholery on the cheating front, but only with his brother’s best interest at heart, and long ago at that. “She outed you?”
“She announced that I seduced her poor hardworking husband, because you know…” She indicated her torso and face.
“Scarlett Johannsen right here, right?” He didn’t know who that was, so didn’t answer.
“Anyway, I tried to explain, she didn’t believe me—who would?
And then I got…a little outspoken at a restaurant and basically finished digging my grave, at least in the event-planning world. ”
In his normal life, back before he had a personal assistant who made him feel looked after and at home, he would not have enjoyed this conversation about messy personal moments. “What does being a little outspoken mean?” he asked
She shook her head, rolled her eyes and said, “Four glasses of wine, a microphone and a packed house. I told the crowd that A) I knew who slept around, so no stones in glass houses, right? And B) I thought their little parties were mostly stupid.”
“Did you? I’m impressed. They are stupid. My sister had a gender reveal party for both her kids, and I sat there thinking, ‘What if you miscarry, Sofia?’ and also, ‘Is this really necessary?’”
“Exactly! It’s such bad luck!”
“Fai festa troppo presto, e il diavolo infila la coda.”
She pulled back a little to look at him. “Go ahead, show-off. Translate, please.”
“Celebrate too early and the devil slides in his tail.” He lifted his glass in a toast.
“Oh, I like that one.” She took a bite of her food. “Out of professional curiosity, I have to know. How did they do the reveal?”
He smiled. “For William, who came first, they had a picnic and asked Henry’s mother to bring her falcon.”
“Did you say falcon?” She was already smiling.
“I did. And at the appropriate moment, the falcon swooped in, hit a huge balloon with its talons, and poof. Blue powder all over the food. We had to order out.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Whoops! Well, points for creativity. I’ve never heard of that one before. How about for Lucy? By the way, Lark is crazy about her. She’s Lucy’s godmother.”
“Yes, I’m aware, as I’m Lucy’s godfather.
” The instant irritation that always flared when someone told Lorenzo a fact he already knew was absent this time.
“Anyway, they learned their lesson about exploding powder. They just bought a stork pinata and beat the thing to death until pink candy rained out. It was extremely violent. Not child-appropriate in the least.”
“Hopefully therapy will clear William’s mind of the memories. Tell me more about your family. I’m on the fringe, but I know Dante, of course. Your sisters seem wicked nice, and your parents, too.”
“Yes, they’re all wicked nice.”
“But…”
“But nothing. They’re nice people.”
“That’s not how people usually talk about their families, Lorenzo.”
He gave her a look. “It’s how I talk about mine.”
“Here, I’ll demonstrate. My parents are irritatingly happy with each other and like to show the world that they’re winning at marriage.
Lots of public displays of affection, lots of snuggling and flirting.
As their child, I’m glad for them and just wish I saw less of it.
No one likes to see their parents making out, you know?
And also, it’s…well, it’s a lot to live up to. ”
“Mm.” His own parents were less demonstrative, but very much a unit. He’d never thought about their marriage much, to be honest. Assumed it was solid based on the evidence presented.
“My oldest sister is the best,” Winnie went on.
“She had a baby in college and placed him for adoption, but they reunited and he’s awesome.
Lark and Addie are complete opposites in every way but DNA.
No one likes Nicole, Addie’s wife, except Addie, so I guess that’s what really matters.
Addie seems shallow and irritating, but she’d also kill for you.
Lark…well, you know Lark. She’s an angel sent from heaven. ”
“She cries far too often. She definitely cried at the gender reveals. She’d gotten very attached to that stork.”
Winnie grinned. “And finally, there’s my brother, Robbie, who’s a jerk, who falls into the best things without lifting a finger, and just when you think he’s a complete idiot, does something great for you.
And we can’t forget my grandfather, who’s perfect in every way. So. That’s my family. You try again.”