Chapter Twenty-One
TWENTY-ONE
CHARLIE
“I have some news,” Charlie says. His headphones are in.
Angelo is curled up in his lap, looking like a well-packed snowball.
On Dario’s phone screen, Charlie’s family questions him, confused about why he is calling from an unknown number.
“Oh, I lost my phone in a well.” He laughs this time, the comedy of it hitting harder.
“That’s the news?” Grandma asks.
“No,” Charlie says.
“We can’t afford to help you get a new one,” Dad says, sounding concerned.
“I know. It’s all right. Dario is taking care of it.” Charlie wouldn’t be surprised if there was a new phone ready to unwrap when he got off this call.
“How will you pay him back?” Mom asks. “I can wire you a little something, if you need to get rolling.”
“That’s okay. He wouldn’t take the money if I offered,” Charlie says.
“There’s no such thing as a free phone, Charlie.” Dad sounds like a poorly rewritten economics textbook.
“Sure, but generosity is free, and Dario is really generous and caring,” Charlie says. “I can’t go a whole week in a foreign country without a phone.”
“A whole week? We thought you were coming home tomorrow,” Dad says.
Oops. Charlie jumped the gun and now his cheeks are aflame. “About that…”
“We started making you a welcome home banner!” says Grandpa.
“That’s really kind. You might just have to hang it up a little later. See, ’cause Dario invited me to stay one more week…here…with him…” Mom and Dad’s faces fall almost immediately. Grandma, however, looks more excited than when she sees the tree on Christmas morning.
“Charlie, that is wonderful! My, he must really be generous to extend all of your stays like that.”
“Not all. Just mine. Just me.” Charlie lets out a shaky yet excited breath. “Dario wants to marry me. I think you remember that this whole contest was a bid to find a spouse to help him head up Amorina.”
“That was serious?” Dad asks.
“Why wouldn’t it have been serious?” Charlie asks.
Mom says, “It did sound a bit outlandish. We thought maybe it was a cheesy gimmick.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie asks.
“You know, like a cheesy gimmick to sell more of those fancy-shmancy chocolate bars,” Dad says.
“No, it—it was real,” Charlie says, stumbling over his words a bit. “We’ve really connected, and you know I’ve never really been the romantic type, but he’s incredibly smart, well-spoken, not to mention well-dressed. I…like him.”
Grandma nearly explodes with elation. This is the happiest he’s seen her in a long time. “Charlie! Oh, Charlie! How exciting! A wedding! We’ve always wanted to be around when you married. Haven’t we, Grandpa?”
“You betcha.” Grandpa beams alongside her. “What wonderful news!”
Charlie can’t focus on his grandparents’ delight when it’s being overshadowed by his parents’ evident skepticism.
Mom shakes her head. “He’s known you for a week. How could he possibly know he wants to marry you?”
“Charlie’s a catch!” Grandma says, coming to his defense.
“Grandma and I got engaged after only a few weeks. When you know, you know!” Grandpa exclaims.
Dad sets down his coffee mug. “Today’s world isn’t like it was back then.”
“I’m not prehistoric,” Grandpa chides.
“What does he want from you?” Dad asks, ignoring Grandpa.
“Companionship and love! What else could he want?” Grandma says.
“I think your dad is asking about logistics here. It’s one thing to win a contest and a free trip. It’s another to accept an engagement from a stranger,” his mom relays in a much calmer manner.
“He hasn’t asked, and I haven’t accepted yet. He’s only requested I stay longer so we can figure out whether we could get married and build a life together.” Angelo stirs in his lap. Charlie pets him between the ears to give his fidgeting fingers something to do.
“Well, good,” Dad says with a huff. “I don’t care how smart or well-dressed he is. Call me old-fashioned, but I think it’s a man’s duty to meet the father and ask for his blessing before he proposes. That’s what I did.”
“Dad, this isn’t some Austen novel. You don’t need to give him a dowry or some sh—stuff.” He hates cursing in front of his grandparents. He can have the blue hair and the tattoos and the piercings, but he draws the line at that. His rebellion has its hard limits.
Is one of those limits not marrying someone his family disapproves of?
“Still, we should meet the man in person if he wants to be a Moore!” Dad says.
“Maybe we can arrange to have you all come out here?” Charlie says, confidence dimming.
“And miss work?” Mom asks.
“I’m not sure I’m well enough for a nine-hour flight,” says Grandma, losing some of her sparkle.
“We’re about to lose our house, Charlie.” Tears speckle Dad’s eyes. In twenty-eight years, his father has never shown this much emotion before. It frightens him a bit.
“I know…” Charlie’s voice is as thin as a chocolate wafer. His breath shortens.
“Do you?” Dad asks, really laying into the words.
“I do because I’m the one who got the letter from the bank.
” They all go ghostly white at the confession.
Charlie wishes relief came along with his words, but the hurt he’s inflicted on his family registers deeper than before.
His guilt is a mallet plunking him on the head.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know you’re all under a lot of stress right now with your jobs and your health, and I wanted to step up and handle this for us.
Originally, that was the reason I came out here.
Dario must marry to inherit Amorina, and he is very rich. ”
“Marrying him doesn’t make it your money, Charlie. Don’t you think you’d have to sign a prenup?” Mom asks.
“You were using him for his money?” Grandma asks, concerned and perhaps a tad disappointed.
“No, I mean, well, at first I…” Hadn’t he already worked through this? Hadn’t Dario confirmed that Charlie’s need did not outweigh his feelings? That he would write the Moore family a check to save their house, no questions asked, because he liked Charlie.
“Sounds like he’s using you,” Dad says.
“It’s not like that,” Charlie protests, trying and failing to cling to his optimism. His usual refrain of we get on just fine reveals itself to have been more of a defense mechanism than a long-held truth.
“You just said he has to marry or else he loses his big, cushy corporate job,” Dad says.
“It’s not a big, cushy, corporate job. He’s managing one of Italy’s largest chocolate production operations. He’s trying to make it more sustainable and help it thrive. He can explain it all better than I can.” Charlie’s head hurts, and his thoughts scramble together.
“Then Dario should come here and shake my hand and tell me himself,” Dad says.
Charlie sags in his chair. “I… I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“Why not?” Dad asks in challenge.
Charlie won’t share Dario’s diagnosis. It’s not his place. So all he says is: “I just don’t think he can.”
“If he’s too busy or too good to come out here and do the gentlemanly thing, then he’s not good enough for you, kiddo,” Dad says. “End of discussion.”
“No. Not ‘end of discussion.’ I’m not a ‘kiddo’ anymore.
I’m twenty-eight years old. I contribute to our household as much as anyone else.
I wanted to do what I could to fix this for us,” Charlie says as his voice and eyes grow watery.
Even adults need to let their emotions out sometimes.
“I really care about this guy, and he wants to help us fix this. Why would we turn away from that?”
“We’re not in the market for charity,” Dad says, seemingly already dead set against this. Charlie wants to take him by the shoulders and shake some reason into him.
“Help and charity are not the same thing! It’s not charity when it’s family,” Charlie protests.
“He has a point,” Grandpa says.
Dad shakes his head. “If he can’t come here to meet us and make his intentions known, then I want absolutely no part of this,” Dad says with a note of finality. He stands and exits the room.
The phone shakes. Charlie calls after him but he doesn’t come back.
Mom sighs after several seconds that feel like hours. “Maybe it’s best you stay another week. It’ll give him time to cool off and—who knows—maybe come around. If that’s what you want. I love you, Char.” She gets up and follows Dad, disappearing around the corner.
The tears percolate but they don’t fall. Charlie is more stunned than anything else. His mouth hangs open, barely any words left.
“I don’t mean to pour salt in the wound, but you should have at least told us about the letter when you got it,” Grandpa says, sounding a bit hurt. His cheeks sag more than they already do.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Charlie says. Because he betrayed his grandparents’ trust when they’ve never given him a reason to be dishonest. They’ve always been there for him.
Theirs were the smiling faces he saw each day when he got home from a long day at school.
Theirs were the shoulders he cried on when he came home soaked through with rain from Max’s house after being outed and dumped.
Theirs were the hands he squeezed for luck when he opened the email to see if he’d won the Amorina contest.
His grandparents have given him so much his parents couldn’t that he didn’t waste a second thought when he turned eighteen, graduated high school and took over as their full-time caretaker.
He just wanted to do this one thing alone for the good of them all. Now regret is a clamp around his heart, cutting off his blood flow.
“You probably should’ve eased your father into this a little more, too. You know he doesn’t take kindly to change,” Grandpa adds.
“I know.” Charlie hangs his head as a tear slides down his cheek.
“Despite that, we’re very excited for you,” Grandpa concludes, happiness playing softly behind his words.
“I know.” Charlie feels like a broken record, but he looks up and smiles through the tears.
“Really, truly, over-the-moon excited for you, Charlie,” Grandma says, hands pressed to her chest.