Chapter 7
Charlie
T he drive wasn’t nearly long enough. Maybe I’ll ask him to go for a longer ride after dinner. I’d missed feeling my knees in the breeze. We come to a stop. I focus on my surroundings and realize we’re in front of Vincent’s.
I take his hand and get off the sled. I take off my helmet and stow it in the luggage. Wizard gives me a look of admiration before stowing his helmet next to mine and locking the trunk.
“The girls will be so jealous.”
“Oh yeah, do they like it here?”
“They love it. I take them every year for their birthday.”
Wizard places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the door. A uniformed employee opens the door and ushers us toward the hostess stand. A handsome woman dressed to the nines with silver hair greets us.
“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”
“Morelli.”
The woman glances at the blotter in front of her. She grabs two menus and a wine list.
“Right this way, Mr. Morelli.”
We pass through the main dining room to a smaller private room.
“I’ll send your server in and let Mr. Di Bacco know you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Wizard says to the hostess, while pulling out the chair for me.
I take a seat and open the menu. I know it by heart, but they always have weekly specials. Plus, this place isn’t exactly cheap. I normally order the least expensive thing on the menu so the girls can have what they want. Ma and Pops either stay home or insist on paying for their dinner.
When Dad died, he left enough money for us to live on for a few years. Ma’s never had a job outside the home and, in my opinion, she doesn’t need one. She’s never been interested in one. She takes care of the house and helps with the girls. Pops insists on helping with the bills. I let him pay half the lights and internet/cable.
Our server comes in with ice water and a bottle of red wine.
“Compliments of Mr. Di Bacco.”
“Only a half glass for me. I’m driving,” Wizard says.
I nod at the server as he fills my glass. I smell the wine before taking a taste.
“This is good.”
“Why don’t we order enough food for you to take home to your family?” he asks after the server leaves.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I’d like to. If you’ll let me.”
“Will it fit on the sled?”
“That’s what prospects are for. I’ll shoot off a text message to Tully. He’ll come and get it and deliver it to your house.”
“Thank you. They’ll be thrilled. Over the moon.”
The server comes back to take our order. We decide on the tasting menu: artichoke hearts with prosciutto, parmesan and olive oil, parmesan crusted shrimp, corn and crab chowder, cannelloni, a walnut, gorgonzola salad, seafood medallions and blackened redfish. We also ordered Osso Bucco to split and half the menu to take home for the family.
Paying for it will put a massive dent in my reserve cash, but I couldn’t tell him no when he suggested it. The girls deserve a treat. Fresh garlic bread and more ice water arrive at the table.
“Valentina seemed upset when you arrived at the compound earlier. Anything I can do to help?” Wizard asks.
I shake my head. “Only if you have a time machine. I’ll write myself a note that says, ‘ditch the asshole as soon as you find out you're pregnant.’ Valentina blames me for the divorce. As we arrived at the compound, Francesca dropped a bomb. She knows her dad cheated on me.”
“I imagine those words were like a punch in the gut.”
Wizard
SHE NODS. IF I HADN’T already decided to look into her scumbag ex, the look on her face clinched it.
“Knowing that any of my daughters know makes it worse. I have a feeling when I know the full story, I’m going to want to throttle him. Not that I don’t want to most days.”
“Was your ex responsible for your tires?”
“Yes. He bought the girls a decent used car. Asshat promised them a new one. Likely spent it on his latest chippie.”
I nearly spit out the drink of iced tea I’d just taken.
“Chippie?”
“It’s an oldie but a goodie, Pops would say.”
“I like him. I think Hollywood’s already adopted him.”
She nods again. “He has. His kids are already calling him Pops. Ma already promised to teach them how to make gravy like a real Italian. Invited them to Sunday dinner. You should come too. Unless being stared at by my sixteen-year-old daughter is too weird.”
“I’d love to come. What time should I be there and what can I bring?”
“We’ll eat at six, but Ma will have a million snacks made, so come after one. We’ll be home from church by then. Bring your appetite. She’ll cook for days.”
“My Nona is the same way. Anytime any of us visit her, she cooks for days and sends us home with a box of leftovers.”
“Do you have siblings?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m an only child, but both my parents come from large families. I have dozens of cousins.”
“That must have been fun growing up.”
“It was. Holidays were always controlled chaos. But it was a lot of fun.”
“Papa has two brothers. They live in New Jersey but visit at least once a year to see Pops. He’s their dad. Ma is an only child like me. Her parents, my grandparents, live in Palermo.”
Our first course arrives. We continue to talk in between bites as the food arrives. I notice Charlie stops after her second glass of wine. I ask the server to cork the bottle. I’ll send it with Tully.
“How long has Pops lived with you?”
“Since Nonnina died. I was six. He can take care of himself, but the heart just went out of him when she died. He’s still not the carefree Pops I remember as a girl. They were so in love. It was like watching a romance movie happen in real time. He’d bring her a gift every day. A flower, perhaps a feather or beautiful stone. Maybe pints of berries he’d get scratched up picking.”
“Did they live in Louisiana?”
“No, they had a farm in New Jersey. Most people just think of the city and forget some of Jersey is farm country. My uncles still run the farm.”
“Do you and the girls get there often?”
“Not really. Even before the divorce, money was tight. I thought we were strapped for cash so JR could pay off his school loans. Turns out it all went into an offshore account. I guess he knew his cheating would catch up one day.”
She suddenly straightens. Her brow furrows. Charlie reaches out and places her hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t an actual date or anything, but you don’t want to hear about my ex.”
“First, I want you to know you can talk about your ex anytime. You need someone to vent to outside your house. I’m happy to be that. Second, who says this isn’t an actual date?”