17. Meg
17
MEG
H ome was an old two-story wooden craftsman house where I grew up.
Although the wood was weathered and the paint was fading, the house still had a certain charm with its classic lines and cozy porch.
The roof was in rough shape, and I wasn’t sure it would make it through another winter. It was one of the things I wanted to handle when Pops wasn’t looking, and the sooner I got my first paycheck from the Belmont Trust, it would be a go.
I made a mental note to find some quotes for a new roof.
As the Navigator pulled up to the house, I couldn't help but draw a quick comparison between my parents’ place and Belmont Manor.
For all its towering grandeur, Belmont Manor didn’t feel like a home. It had no soul, at least not one I could detect. It was all cold stone, fanciness, and echoes.
Maybe that could explain the two Belmont brothers. Growing up in a house like that had probably helped mold them into the people they’d become.
As I stepped through the front door of my childhood home, the familiar aroma of lasagna and garlic bread filled the air, and the usual chaos was unfolding.
Pops was belting out an opera song, serenading Mom as she cooked. Not that he could carry a tune to save his life.
In the family room, the TV blared some reality show, and my two sisters were bickering over which character they thought was the worst. And since there were many characters to pick from, the argument was never-ending.
The only one absent was Isabel, who usually helped Mom make the food. And I missed listening to the two of them exchange boring tips on which tomatoes to use for the perfect Italian sauce.
I felt the weight of my day slip away.
Shedding my coat, I walked past the family room where my sisters were sprawled out over the old circa 1990s suede couch that Pops refused to get rid of because “ they didn’t make them like that anymore.”
“Hey, you sexy monsters!” I yelled as I went by, heading for the kitchen where Mom was feeding Pops a spoonful of lasagna for a taste test.
He gave her an exaggerated chef’s kiss and squeezed her butt for good measure.
She caught sight of me in the doorway and flashed me the most beautiful smile. “You’re home! Sal, pour Meg a glass of wine.”
“I just had a very strong Bloody Mary on my ride,” I said. “Maybe I’ll give it a few minutes before I have wine.”
“What, you drank inside a moving car?” Pops asked. ‘That’s against the law!”
“Relax, it’s fine, Pops. You know the rich…they don’t live by the same rules as the rest of us poor plebs. Besides, I needed a stiff drink after my day.”
Pops scoffed. “I’ll bet. That’s what you get going to work in Satan’s Den.”
Mom looked up from her lasagna prep, spatula in hand. “Let me see where you bumped your head. You never told me what happened.”
The memory involuntarily sparked a grin. “A flash drive fell, and when I bent down to pick it up, the desk got in my way.”
She gently poked at the goose egg on my head. “Does that hurt?”
A squeal escaped me. “Mom! Yes…ouch!”
That got me a gentle kiss on the goose egg. “I still think you should see a doc,” she said.
“If it hurts in the morning, I will,” I promised. “You’re not going to believe this, but they have a doctor on the estate.”
Mom laughed in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
I gave Pops a playful slap on the arm. “You know what, I’ll take that glass of wine anyway. Please.”
He bellowed out a laugh. “You just told me you had a glass of booze in the car over here. You can have a little wine at the table. I don’t care how old you are. In my house, you are still my piccolina who played a tree in the school play when you were eight.”
Mom chuckled. “Remember when the tree decided to lay down at the most pivotal moment in the play? What the teacher was thinking making you a tree, I would never know.”
“It was a choice between being a tree and being a flower,” I said. “And we all know I’m no flower.”
Just then, my sisters burst into the kitchen, with Mona right in my face. “Heyyy! You missed the knives-out fight between your two favorite housewives. A few hair extensions might have been ripped out. Things were said, and there were a lot of bleeps.”
And she had my attention. “I hope you recorded that.”
To which she smiled and winked. “I’ve got your back, Sissie. Always. We’ll watch it again with you later. How was your first day at the new job!?
“It was fine. Uneventful. Busy. Very busy.”
“Ugh, that sounds totally boring,” Mona whined. “I was hoping for something really exciting to happen. I mean, you wore that dress.”
“Without Spanx, no less,” Mimi said. But then her eyes narrowed in disbelief, her focus zeroing in on the stain. “What the hell did you do to my dress?!”
I shot back defensively. “Hello to you, too. It’s a bit of chocolate glaze, relax. Apparently, baking soda will get it right out.”
“That dress cost me like 25 bucks!” Mimi continued. “What the fuck, Meg.”
“Language, please,” Mom warned, waving us out of the way with the spatula. “Go wash your hands, we’re eating in one minute.”
No one bothered to wash their hands. Instead, Pops seized the moment to steal a quick kiss from Mom as she pulled the lasagna out of the oven, while Mimi swiped a hot mozzarella stick and eagerly chomped it down.
“Let me Venmo you the $25, okay,” I said to Mimi. “Then you can stop crying about the damn dress. Like I said, it’s cursed. It needs to be burned.”
Mimi shrugged nonchalantly. “No, it’s okay. You might just as well keep it now, so Merry Christmas, Sis!”
"Look at you,” I laughed. “The things we sacrifice for sisterly love.”
“Shut up,” she went on. “So, when you say cursed…”
I shrugged. “You don’t wanna know.”
Mona poked her finger at the stain. “How the hell did you get chocolate glaze right where your nipple is?”
It sparked another pleasant memory, but I played it down. “That’s for me to know and for you not to find out. Can we please stop talking about the stupid dress!”
Mom took over and started ordering us around. And with everyone carrying food to the table, dinner was officially underway.
We were careful to skirt the issue of my first day at the new job since dinner at the table was considered a sacred family ritual, and talking about the Belmonts would only upset Pops.
It was right after our second helping of tiramisu that I casually asked Pops if the pizza business was picking up for the coming winter.
I knew there’d been a slowdown, but I was hoping it was just a temporary dip.
“It’s fine. It’s always fine,” he said with his familiar bravado, dismissing my concern with a wave of his hand. “Nothing you need to worry your little head over, piccolina. ”
His words were reassuring, but there was an edge to them that I couldn’t quite shake off.
Mom reached for his hand and closed it between both of hers. A small, intimate gesture, one she always used to soothe him.
She cast me a knowing glance that meant we’d talk later .
Pops’ phone dinged, and his face tightened as he read whatever message had come through.
With a grunt, he stood up, already moving toward the door. “Gotta go,” he muttered.
“I thought you didn’t work weeknights anymore,” I said.
“Matteo didn’t come in today, so we’re short,” he said. “Got to hold things together.”
“Pops, you have three very capable daughters who’d love to help out,” I suggested. “Just say the word.”
My sisters agreed with vigorous nods.
“Next time,” was all he said as he walked around the table, kissing each of his girls on the cheek. When he bent down to kiss Mom, she kissed him back like he was a soldier going off to war.
“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” she asked with a smile.
Pops’ eyes softened. “I’ll never get tired of hearing it, sweetheart. I love you too.”
With that, he blew us all one last kiss and left.
The front door barely shut closed before Mona accosted me. “Sooo, you never said if your new boss is hot or not. Why won’t you answer that?”
I rolled my eyes. “First off, he’s not my boss. He is my coworker. And secondly, even if he was hot, I’m there to work, not to play.”
Mona snagged a sip of wine from Mom’s glass. “So, he is hot.”
I heaped another spoon of tiramisu into my mouth. “You know what, can’t say I even noticed.”
“Well, is he at least nice?” Mimi asked, feeding small table scraps to Cannoli. “Nothing worse than working for someone ick.”
There was no way to answer that question truthfully, so I shrugged it off like I didn’t really care. “He’s fine. Like I said, he’s nice enough. He used to be a real asshole but apparently, he’s changed his ways. So, we’ll see how that goes.”
Mom’s gaze met mine, curiosity behind her look. The topic needed to change because there was no escaping her ever-present mom-scrutiny.
“So, are we going to talk about what’s going on with Pops?” I asked, deviating. “Is he okay?”
Cannoli slinked between our legs, tail wagging, searching for more scraps, and I reached down to scratch behind his ears.
A quick glance passed between my sisters and Mom. Mimi gave a small nod as if encouraging Mom to say something.
I could sense a bit of tension in the air. Something was up, and I had no idea what.