Chapter 8 #4
“We have to have pasta. You know my father is not a fan of turkey. Give him the stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy, and he’ll skip the bird.”
“I’m with him, unless you make turkey grilled cheese sandwiches,” Nina suggested lightly.
“That sounds like a good idea for leftovers.” Frankie jotted down a note to include extra cheese on her shopping list. “What kind of bread?”
“I happen to like grilled Swiss, turkey, and bacon on rye.”
“That sounds delish. You’re making me hungry.” Frankie’s stomach growled in agreement.
“Do you need help shopping?” Nina offered.
“I might. I hope to take the week off.”
“When have you ever done that, except for our excursions?”
“Like never. But it’s time to start paying more attention to the things that bring me joy.”
“Doesn’t your work bring you joy?” Nina asked. She was puzzled.
“Yes. I created something, and it’s working well.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I feel like my job is done. It can continue without me.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Nina said. She was surprised to hear her friend speak like this.
“It’s routine now. It was exciting creating the imprint, curating books. Now it’s about finding chefs with a favorite charity. Not that it’s a bad thing, but the hard part is essentially over. I accomplished what I set out to do.”
“Well, of course you did. You always do,” Nina said reassuringly.
“Now I feel as if I need to find another project. Something to stimulate my creativity.”
“I totally get that. We must feed our souls,” Nina waxed philosophically.
“Indeed, we do, girlfriend. Moving on to fun stuff. Got any ideas about New Year’s Eve?” Frankie was at a loss.
“Well, it’s going to be hard to top the past three years.”
“Yes. No twisted ankles, no jailbirds,” Frankie said.
“At least we didn’t do too much damage on the cruise.”
“That’s because we kept Rachael on a leash,” Frankie said, and giggled.
“I don’t think the ship’s captain would agree.” Nina recalled Rachael planting mistletoe in a number of places on the boat.
“We were lucky he was good-natured and didn’t toss us overboard,” Frankie added.
“So true.”
“Giovanni’s mother and aunt are coming into town, and I have to make some plans for them.”
“Are they coming with those fine gentlemen we met? The two Parisi brothers?”
“Good question. I’m waiting for Giovanni to let me know what the travel plans are, so I can’t do much planning until I get the info.”
“I’m sure it will all come together with you at the helm,” Nina said.
“By the way, Giovanni is now referring to me as pantaloni prepotenti .”
“That’s adorable!” Nina yelped.
“Yeah. Now I’m ‘bossy pants’ in two languages.” Frankie smiled to herself.
“I can always come up with a French version.”
“Thank you. No,” Frankie answered. “I told Giovanni that I’m not bossy. I just have better ideas.”
Nina chuckled and said, “Well, that much is true.”
“Okay, honey pie. I’ve gotta get out of here. When are you getting back?”
“Next week.”
“Okay. Safe travels, and let me know when you land.”
“Will do. Love you, babycakes.”
“Love you too!”
When the conversation was over, Frankie asked herself, What will we do for New Year’s Eve?
Frankie stretched her arms over her head and began to play with her long, dark ponytail, curling her locks around her finger.
It was something she did when she was deep in thought, something she had been doing since she was a kid.
It was her father that was the first to comment.
“What are you thinking about, Francesca?” he had asked.
“Huh? What do you mean?” she had answered.
“I noticed that you play with your hair when you are mulling something over,” he said, and smiled.
“Oh.” Frankie had been oblivious to this habit. She immediately came back with, “It helps me think, Daddy.”
He couldn’t argue with that, especially when it came from a five-year-old.
The more Frankie thought, the more she spun her hair, contemplating all the people and all the festivities coming up.
Then she chuckled to herself. “I guess I’m swapping my fancy holiday anxieties for my normal ones.
” She flicked her ponytail back, stood, smoothed her tunic sweater.
It was time to clear her head and take a walk.
She took the elevator to the lobby, said goodbye to the security guard, walked through the revolving doors, and stepped into the cool, crisp air.
Firemen and construction workers were in the process of securing the tree to the scaffold that would remain until all the decorating was finished.
Frankie calculated it would be another week or so.
She headed toward Sixth Avenue and then two blocks north to Radio City Music Hall. She could have easily looked up the information online, but there was something special about the box office and the facade of the famous hall.
Frankie approached the historical building that began construction in 1932.
It was known as The Great Stage, and six bronze plaques graced the facade representing dance, drama, and song.
A wraparound marquee featured its name in neon with reddish pink and yellow art deco lettering.
Beneath the marquee, the iconic scroll boasted the performances of the R ADIO C ITY C HRISTMAS S PECTACULAR S TARRING THE R ADIO C ITY R OCKETTES .
Frankie got the chills as she looked up at the words moving across the front and sides of the building.
The annual show started running the week before, and she knew it would be a sold-out venue if she didn’t purchase tickets soon.
She decided to grab six tickets for December 18th.
Even though she didn’t have all the details, she knew Lucia and Rosevita were arriving on the 15th and were going to spend three weeks in the states.
The 18th was a safe bet. On second thought, she decided to purchase eight tickets, just in case the Parisi brothers were tagging along with Rosevita and Lucia.
The other four would go to Marco, Anita, and their two children.
If the Parisi brothers did not join their female companions, Frankie and Giovanni would use the tickets and go with the gang.
There were a few people ahead of her in line, and as she was waiting, she heard a voice she recognized call out, “Hey girlie!” She turned quickly to see Randy Wheeler heading in her direction.
“Hey!” She gave him a big hug. “Rehearsal?”
“Yes! And you?”
“Tickets for Giovanni’s family.”
Randy gave her a subtle nod. “Follow me.” He led her to the side door where a security guard was standing. “Hello, Rupert! This is my friend Frankie.”
“You work at Seventy-five Rock,” he said pointedly.
Frankie was startled. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“You gave us a box of cupcakes last year when we were stationed at the tree.” He grinned. “This year I have door duty.”
“Nice to meet you. Again.” Frankie was moved that he remembered this small act of kindness.
Not that she was doing it for the thanks.
She did kind things out of the goodness of her heart.
Not for anything except the satisfaction she was spreading some kind of love, whether it was accepted or not.
“Just put it out there,” she would often say.
And she didn’t expect people to feel obliged to reciprocate.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have standards for other people to follow.
She certainly had expectations, particularly when people promised to do something.
Say what you mean, mean what you say, and do what you say you are going to do.
And if you can’t, let someone know if you need help .
Those words hung in a frame in her office.
One coworker once accused Frankie of having high standards.
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Frankie had responded, and smiled.
She wasn’t sure how that landed, but that particular coworker was never late with any of her work after that encounter.
“Well, Rupert, had I known you would be here, I would have saved one for you. The guys working on the tree inhaled them.”
“I don’t doubt it. You know, most people don’t go out of their way for other people,” Rupert said, and gave her a wide smile.
“We just need to keep on keeping on, and maybe it will rub off. You never know how you can touch someone else’s life. Even if it’s paying a total stranger a compliment. I mean, as long as it’s not creepy,” she said, and chuckled.
Randy interrupted; he agreed with everything Frankie was saying, but it was a little too kumbaya for him. “I want to give Frankie a tour before the massive crowds gather.” He looked at her. “You do want a tour, do you not?”
“I most certainly do,” Frankie said with a huge smile on her face.
“Follow me, dearie.” He made a crook of his arm, and Frankie threaded hers through it.
“Nice seeing you again, Rupert,” Frankie called as they walked toward the magnificent lobby.
“Nice to see you. Save a cupcake for me next year.”
As they entered the grand lobby, Frankie froze and gasped. “This is magnificent.”
“You’ve been here before,” Randy said plainly.
“Yes, but never when it’s been decorated, and with nobody else around.
It’s hard to take it all in when there are a few hundred people milling about.
” She gazed at the enormous chandelier decorated with lights in the shape of a Christmas tree.
Large green wreaths wrapped in lights hung on the red marble walls between the fifty-feet-high mirrors.
A forty-foot-high mural called The Fountain of Youth by Ezra Winter served as the backdrop for the grand staircase that led to the mezzanine level.
It was the quintessential example of opulence and grandeur.
“The mural was painted in a tennis court near Winter’s studio and then transported here. But the mural had to be restored after someone covered it in polyurethane. I guess they thought they were preserving it.” Randy tsk ed.