Chapter 23
FRANKIE
Ifeel like it’s going well. Sofia’s a little quieter than usual, but I assume she’s just nervous. It is a lot to take in, the magnificent house, my pregnant stepmother, and my magnanimous father. I’m pleased that everyone seems to be getting along.
“Frankie tells me you’re a writer,” Dad says.
“That’s right,” Sofia responds.
“What do you write?” he asks. “Anything I might have read?”
“I’m not published,” Sofia says quickly.
“She’s doing some genealogical research,” I offer, hoping that will extend the pleasant conversation.
“Interesting,” Dad muses. “Where is your family from originally?”
“The research I’m doing isn’t on my family,” Sofia counters. “I’m more interested in the history of this city.”
“Oh,” Dad responds. “Are you writing a paper?”
“Yes,” she confirms.
“Frankie says you met at the library,” Marlena interjects.
Sofia looks at me, and I can see genuine pleasure in her eyes. “We ran into each other in the reference section.”
“That’s so sweet,” Marlena croons.
“How did you two meet?” Sofia asks my stepmother.
I hold my breath. The story of my father’s meeting with Marlena isn’t one for idle conversation. I was actually the one who brought her home, and she wasn’t at all comfortable with my father’s vocation until they got to know each other.
“I was tutoring Frankie,” Marlena replies, neatly glossing over the controversy surrounding my father’s empire. “And I thought he was a good guy, but then I met Cisco, and it was love at first sight.”
Sofia blinks, her reaction muted. I wait breathlessly, wondering if the two women are going to butt heads. I know it wasn’t love at first sight, but in the grand scheme of things, that seems like a small lie. The two are happily married now, and they have a right to their secrets.
“How romantic,” Sofia finally replies.
I shoot her a grateful smile and reach for her hand underneath the table.
We finish our meal in peace, making small talk about the weather and city politics.
My father has some strong opinions when it comes to the mayor, but he doesn’t explain the reasoning behind them.
I’m well aware that the mayor is corrupt and is accepting money from our family.
But Sofia doesn’t need to know that. Instead, we talk about the park cleanup initiative that the mayor is spearheading.
Dad thinks that the money could be spent in a better way, and Sofia agrees with him.
“Downtown needs to be revitalized,” Dad says.
“You’re right,” Sofia declares. “There are entire neighborhoods that could use help.”
“Enough of politics,” Marlena decides.
“You’re right,” Dad defers to her better judgment.
“Who wants pie?” Marlena asks.
“I would love some,” I respond.
Marlena attempts to get up, and Sofia rushes to her aid. “Let me help you,” she says.
“Thank you,” Marlena exclaims.
Sofia goes around the table to help Marlena to her feet. “Forgive me for asking, but don’t you have servants who can clear the table?”
“We’ve given them the night off,” Marlena explains. “We thought a nice family dinner would be better.”
“Oh,” Sofia replies.
The two women disappear into the kitchen with Marlena’s arm looped through Sofia’s.
I watch them go, astonished at the speed with which they seem to bond.
There’s not a big age difference between them, so that’s one thing.
I’m thrilled that they’ve hit it off, because I know Sofia was incredibly nervous. Maybe now she’s feeling better.
I watch the empty doorway for a long time before realizing that my father is looking at me. I glance over and he gives me a wide grin. I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about women with my dad. That’s not the kind of conversation any person wants to have with a parent.
I think I might be falling in love. No, I think I’m already in love.
The way she’s navigating the minefield of my family dinner says volumes about her character.
That she can sit in a room with my father and discuss the mayor’s agenda while simultaneously caring for my stepmother makes me wonder where she’s been all my life.
“She’s a keeper,” Dad says.
“Thanks,” I respond.
The women return to the table, Sofia carrying the pie in her hands. She sets it down on the table in front of me, taking her seat. I guess that means I’m in charge of cutting it.
I reach for my knife, slicing the pie into eight even pieces. I use a fork to dig them out of the dish, since I haven’t been provided with a spatula. No one seems to mind as I distribute one slice to each person.
“This is delicious,” Sofia says.
“Cisco loves pie,” Marlena responds with a wink.
My father doesn’t take offense. Marlena walks on water.
He would go to hell and back again for her in a heartbeat, and I wonder if I could have the same relationship with Sofia.
In time, maybe we’ll sit down to eat in our own home, and she’ll joke with me about my taste for sweets.
Maybe we’ll have a few children of our own, and we’ll send them to private school, and have extravagant birthday parties for them.
I’m so caught up in the fantasy that I almost don’t notice Uncle Gio.
He arrives looking much more formal than usual.
Instead of his habitual uniform of slacks and a loose button-down shirt, he’s wearing a suit and tie.
I can see immediately that he’s dressed up for the occasion, which means he put some thought into it.
He approaches my father as if they haven’t seen each other in days, even though I know they had a meeting earlier this afternoon.
“Gio,” my father says, standing up.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Uncle Gio says.
“Not at all,” my father responds. “Join us for dessert.”
Gio glances around the table, as if only just realizing who is in attendance. I know that’s outlandish though, he’s inserted himself into this family dinner with one purpose in mind. He’s interested in meeting Sofia. I told him all about her, and he wants to see for himself.
“Uncle Gio, this is Sofia,” I say.
Sofia is momentarily stunned. I glance over and see that her eyes are wide as saucers, her lips parted ever so slightly, showing that she’s struggling to breathe.
Gio can have that effect on people. He’s large and rough-looking, the perfect gangster but not such a great dinner companion.
But all that is window dressing. I know him to be the kindest, most loyal human being in the world.
I put a hand on Sofia’s knee, squeezing gently to reassure her. She springs to life, standing up to offer Gio her hand.
“Hello,” she says.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gio responds, having a seat.
I offer him the pie, but he shakes his head. He’s got only one thing on his agenda, and it’s not a slice of pecan.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say the same about you,” Sofia replies hesitantly.
Gio laughs, which is a good sign. “That’s okay. He was probably saving the best for last.”
The whole family laughs, and I can see Sofia relax.
Gio might look scary, but he’s easy to be around if you can see past the gruff exterior.
We fall easily into a generational back and forth, where Dad and Uncle Gio tell stories about concerts they went to in their youth.
Marlena teases them about being ‘old,’ something that no one else in my father’s orbit would dare to attempt. But it’s all in good fun.
“I’m beat,” Marlena says finally, after everyone has finished their pie.
“Go to bed,” my father suggests.
“It was really nice to meet you,” Marlena says to Sofia.
“Likewise,” Sofia agrees.
“I think I will call it an early night,” Marlena decides, getting up.
My father rushes to help her, guiding her toward the staircase before coming back to join us in the dining room. I half expect him to continue probing Sofia for information, but he doesn’t.
“Why don’t you kids take off?” he suggests.
“Do you want help with the dishes?” Sofia asks.
My father laughs. “This is a good woman,” he tells me. Then he turns to her to answer her question. “Gio and I can take care of it. Go, be young.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the opportunity provided.
I don’t think Dad and Uncle Gio are actually going to do the dishes, but they may clean the table. The meal went surprisingly well, and I’m thrilled at the prospect of getting Sofia all to myself.
“Do you want to see the upstairs?” I ask her.
She slides back from the table, standing up. “Sure.”
I lead her out of the dining room and for the first time since meeting my parents, we find ourselves alone. I’m dying of curiosity, but I keep my mouth shut until we mount the stairs. The walls have ears here in the Corello compound, and I don’t want my dad to think we’re talking about him.
But as soon as we reach the second-floor landing, I have to ask. “So, what did you think?”
“Of your parents?” she asks innocently.
“Of my dad,” I clarify. “I don’t really think of Marlena as my parent.”
“No,” Sofia agrees. “She’s far too young.”
“So,” I insist. “What did you think?”
“He’s very friendly,” she answers.
I pause to consider that statement. Of all the things people have called my father over the years, friendly is not one of them. But of course, Sofia is different. She’s not a rival mob boss or a politician looking for a handout. She’s my girlfriend.
“What’s up here?” She asks, looking around at all the gilded decorations on the second floor.
“Bedrooms,” I say, trying not to sound seductive.
I don’t know whether she is interested in spending the night.
That option appeals to me, but I don’t want to pressure her.
Though we’ve slept together, we haven’t had sex.
And this house might be too intimidating to be the first place we become intimate, though I don’t want to rule anything out.
“Which one is yours?” she asks with no hint of shame.