CHAPTER FORTY-ONE Ginger
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ginger
I should’ve known Mabel and my nonna would become instant friends. My father also invited his mother, my always cheeky Granny Dan, this evening. She and my nonna are the best of frenemies; they’re always competing for the best grandma award when I love them both equally and for totally different reasons. I stand behind the kitchen island and watch Granny Dan, Nonna and Mabel play Uno in the next room. My father sits at the dining room table with Cole, talking about his intent to crack down on the vandalism of public buildings in the downtown core. I internally laugh at the fact that there are a total of two buildings that have graffiti on, and the designs are actually quite beautiful.
“Do you think she likes the game?” my mother asks as we roll out fresh ravioli sheets.
“Yes, I do.” I smile, before continuing, “You’ve really pulled out all of the stops tonight. Even though I told you ten times over not to make a big deal. This is just dinner.”
She waves her perfectly manicured hand at me. “It’s not very often my daughter brings …” She looks out to the other room to make sure no one is listening, then whispers, “… a boyfriend and his beautiful daughter home.”
I instantly feel the pressure of what she is insinuating weighing down on me. The expectation of a future family always creates an overwhelming sense of anxiety in me. Not because I don’t want a family, but because there’s a pressure to give my parents, mostly my father, the kind of family he can brag about to voters. But, tonight, with Mabel and Cole here, it feels like I have teammates in my corner, and that makes everything just a little less crushing.
Both my grandmothers return to the kitchen when their game of Uno is finished, and Mabel runs over to Cole with her coloring book. He helps get her situated at the dinner table while he continues to talk with my father. Granny Dan, always looking for trouble to stir, wanders by me and pats me on the shoulder.
“Quite the looker, CeCe’s brother.” She nods to Cole and winks as she grabs a cloth and begins to swipe leftover flour off the counter and into her hand. “I remember when your grandad was young like that. He was so handsome. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself half of the time.”
“Granny …” I start with a giggle.
“What does CeCe think about all of this?” she asks.
I shrug. “This is a summer arrangement,” I say, loud enough for all the nosy women in my life to hear, but not loud enough to reach the next room, “You all act as though we’re … we’re …”
“Getting married?” My nonna finishes my sentence and laughs before taking to the stove to stir the beef mixture simmering there. She fishes a spoon out of the drawer and tastes it.
“More garlic, mia cara ,” she tells my mother.
“You’re crazy,” my mother quips over her shoulder. “It’s perfect.”
Nonna ignores her and Granny Dan passes her the garlic to add to the pot. Grannies unite.
Mabel walks into the kitchen and sniffs the air.
“It smells yummy in here,” she says. “Can I help?”
“Sure. But wash your hands first,” I tell her. “I’m done making the pasta but we have to stuff it now before it cooks in the sauce. You can help me do the hard work.”
“That’s the good stuff,” Granny Dan says as she tastes the ravioli filling.
I smile at her. How she’s so sweet and open, yet shaped my father into the man he is today, I’ll never quite understand. Though everyone says my dad is just like my grandfather, I don’t remember him all that well; I was young when he died. But, if it’s true what they say, it seems that the Danforth men have a habit of marrying free-spirited women who soften their otherwise desolate personalities.
I watch my mother and granny giggle over something Mabel says while she washes her hands.
“On Disney Channel, the rich people have a cook,” Mabel says nonchalantly as my nonna hands her a rolling pin.
Everyone in the kitchen laughs at her honesty.
“Mabes,” Cole says sheepishly, overhearing her comment from the table.
I wave it off. “My family would cook even if they were the richest family in the world,” I say as my granny heads out to the dining area to sit with Cole and ask him if he’s excited for CeCe’s fast-approaching wedding.
“Why?” Mabel asks inquisitively.
“Well, food is part of our roots. We put all our love into it.” I lean down toward her. “That’s why it smells so good.”
“Roots like our garden?” Mabel asks as I pull the warm beef mixture off the stove and put it in a cool bowl to scoop into little pasta parcels.
“Yes, just like our garden,” I say.
“How?” she questions as I place a sheet of pasta in front of her.
“Well. My nonna taught my mother how to make this recipe. In fact, she taught her all her special and secret recipes,” I tell her. “Then my mother taught me, and now I’m teaching you. So my nonna’s roots are now your roots. Do you understand?”
She nods. “So even though I’m not in your family, I can still have your roots?” she asks.
“Yes, babe. That’s exactly right,” I say with a smile.
She grins up at me and my heart feels like it may burst. I’ve never given much thought to having kids of my own. But man, if they’re anything like Mabes, I think it could be pretty damn amazing.
“So, what’s next?” she says, clapping her tiny hands together.
My nonna joins in now, showing Mabel carefully how to fill and fold the ravioli before securing the ends.
“Fold and press, fold and press,” she chants in the same way she did when I was young.
I take a moment while they work to steal a glance at Cole. He’s sitting at the table, listening intently while my father says something to my granny. When our eyes connect across the room, his molten gaze settles somewhere deep within me. It’s more than knowing I’m starting to care for him, a lot. It’s more than I can explain. It’s almost like I can breathe deeper and I feel calmer the moment his eyes find mine. He leans back in his chair and sips his drink before flashing me a smirk. It’s the kind of smirk that tells me what I already know. When this ends and I move back into my own house, leaving Cole Ashby is going to fucking destroy me.