Chapter Eighteen
The first dance lesson was starting on the first of the following month. In the weeks up to the start of their classes, Mari and James met around the appointments they both had to manage.
Arguably, Mari’s schedule should be easier to manipulate, but she quickly realized just how busy her family kept her.
At least once a week, in the evenings, she had both of her grandchildren staying with her. Luca and Brooke took their alone time, or “date night,” as they labeled it.
Mari stepped in for baby duty when Brooke needed to concentrate or deal with conference calls.
All the managerial work defaulted to her when Salena wasn’t on.
Most of which was on autopilot thanks to Salena’s efforts.
Automated inventory, updated POS reports, and batching out at the end of the day.
Even scheduling the employees had been streamlined.
Salena had suggested the staff set their own schedules and then authorized a “comanager” for the waiters and the bar staff.
The kitchen was Luca’s, and Mari only found herself jumping in when mutual agreements couldn’t be met among the employees.
Salena’s system worked. And for the most part, employee retention was at the highest it had been since 2020.
In short, Mari found herself with plenty of time.
Where she once joined her neighbors for an afternoon coffee or walk down to the embarcadero, late breakfasts or lunches with James filled her time.
On the day of her now “regular” bunco date, Mari sat in the chair with her hairdresser.
Peering at herself in the mirror, a plastic cape buttoned around her neck, Mari stared back at herself.
“Are you ready for something different?” Her hairdresser, Deanna, was in her midthirties and had been cutting Mari’s hair for five years.
Slowly, the need to “cover her age” became more frequent.
With the darkness of her Italian roots, literally, Mari had kept it simple. Color and trim. Nothing fancy.
Deanna ran her hands through Mari’s hair and then let it fall.
“Oh, I don’t know. The same, I guess,” she told her.
“That didn’t sound convincing.”
Mari caught her eyes through the mirror. “I don’t like change.”
Deanna hummed. “What about a few highlights and maybe a little bit shorter? Nothing dramatic. The highlights will help you see past any gray peeking out between appointments. And the shorter style will feel breezier.”
“I don’t like short hair either.” Mari never understood the need for women to cut off their hair at a certain age.
Deanna pulled her hair up to demonstrate the length she was suggesting. “Then, with a few passes with a curling iron, you’ll feel ten years younger. Let’s try it, Mari. If you hate the color, we can fix it. And at the rate your hair grows, it will look just like this in a few months.”
Eventually, Mari agreed.
Then, as every hairdresser seemed to double as a therapist, Mari told her about the cruise.
She kept James’s name out of it. Skimmed over the details regarding Rosa’s sickness.
An hour and a half later, Mari twisted her head from side to side and smiled.
“So this is the fountain of youth,” she stated.
“Do you like it?” Deanna asked.
“Do you?”
“I love it. I’ve been wanting to do this for years. Maybe even a few more highlights the next time.”
What will James think?
“I like it.”
After settling with Deanna, Mari walked home and entered through the front of the restaurant.
Salena saw her first. “Oh, wow.”
“What?”
Salena circled a finger in the air. “This. I love it.”
“Deanna thought it was time for a change.”
“It’s fabulous. You look like you’re ready for a night on the town,” Salena said.
Mari clicked her tongue. “If by ‘night on the town’ you mean bunco with Rosa and our new friends, then I guess I am.”
Salena wrinkled her nose. “That’s unfortunate. But maybe when you start those dance lessons you’ll have the opportunity for a nightlife.”
Again, James popped into her head. “If nothing else, I could use the exercise. I’m not getting any younger.” Mari started to walk past.
“You wouldn’t know that by looking at you, Mama D’Angelo.”
“You’re sweet.”
She stepped into her office and settled behind her desk.
Her phone buzzed.
Even before looking, she knew who was texting.
Hi, Beautiful.
Good afternoon.
Have you spoken to Summer since the cruise? he asked.
I’ll see her tonight at bunco. Why?
Three dots flashed on the screen for a few seconds before he replied with a picture.
The two of them stood in the middle of the dance floor on the last night of the cruise. Channeling a little Danny Zuko and Sandy vibes, James had his arm casually over her shoulder. Mari’s head was tossed back, laughing, and James was whispering something in her ear.
She smiled into the memory of that moment.
Summer sent me this today. I thought you might want a copy.
That was a memorable night.
“Mari, can you—”
Mari all but dropped her phone on her desk and shot her attention to her office door.
Salena jolted and stopped talking. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked.
“No.” Mari turned her phone screen-side down on her desk. “What can I do for you?”
The phone buzzed. The vibration tapped on the wood like a toddler demanding attention.
Salena glanced at the desk.
The phone buzzed again.
Cazzo!
“I can wait.”
Mari placed a hand over the phone, willing James to hold off on the next message. “What is it?”
“I, ah . . . wanted to remind you to sign the payroll checks. I know you’re leaving early.”
“Right. Yes. I’ll leave them here for you to distribute tonight.”
“Great.”
The phone buzzed again.
She placed the phone in her lap. “Anything else?”
Salena glanced at Mari’s lap, then shook her head. “Nope.”
Once Salena had walked out of view, Mari read James’s message.
In more ways than one. Which was quickly followed by Mari?
After reading back to remind herself what she and James were talking about, she remembered how the rest of that night went. The way he’d kissed her when no one else was watching.
Yes, in more ways than one.
Chloe and Salena had their bimonthly nail salon appointment.
Over the course of the last couple of years, their lives had changed.
They had both acquired husbands. Chloe helped Dante run their chartered yacht business and had also started a multilanguage online yoga class.
And Salena, in addition to helping manage the restaurant, had opened up a physical pole-dancing studio.
A forced appointment, even one to have their nails done, was keeping them both in close contact. A promise they gave each other.
With feet soaking in warm, soapy water and a technician trimming their fingernails, they caught up.
“Have you told Mama that you want to leave yet?”
Salena had been putting off finding her replacement for months.
“I can’t do that right now. When Emma has the babies, your mama is going to want to be in Temecula more than at the restaurant.”
“And when that happens, then maybe Brooke gets pregnant. Then what? You put it off for another nine months?” Chloe wasn’t about to put herself in the possible motherhood category. She and Dante weren’t ready. Though Chloe had been thinking about babies a little more every month.
“I feel guilty.”
“Mama knows you don’t need the income. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s shocked that you’re still there.”
“Did she say anything to you?” Salena asked.
“No. But I can talk to her. Let her know you’re itchy.”
“Don’t. I can hang in there for a bit longer. Your mama has been filling up her social calendar. Bunco, the cruise . . . and have you seen her new haircut?”
Chloe shook her head.
“She has highlights.”
“My mom?” Chloe pointed to her chest.
“Yeah, and get this . . . I walked in the office the other day. She dropped her phone like it was coming out of a frying pan. One minute she was smiling, the next, all Mrs. Business and ‘what can I do for you?’”
“Was she talking on the phone?”
Salena shook her head. “Texting.”
This sounded off. “You’re sure she was texting?”
“The phone kept buzzing. And she refused to look at it while I was in the room.”
“That sounds like something I did when I was hiding something.”
“Right? Exactly what I thought.” Salena sat up a little taller. “And since when does your mama leave the restaurant in the middle of the day for hours to ‘run errands.’” Salena made air quotes with her free hand. “Takes her car and returns with nothing.”
“Mama almost never takes the car. Unless she needs to do a Costco run or something.” The nice thing about Little Italy was the fact that they could walk to nearly all their needs.
“Nothing, Chloe. Not even a T-shirt.”
“How often has she done that?”
“A handful since she returned from the cruise. And you heard about the dance classes . . .”
“Yeah, that’s weird. Rosa said it was her suggestion.
Dante thinks his mother is having a midlife crisis.
Ever since the divorce, she’s been purging the house, meeting new people.
She doesn’t even sound like the same woman sometimes.
I told Dante I thought she’d been in a low-level depression for years.
Now she’s waking up and realizing how much time she’d lost being married to his useless father. ”
“You called Joseph useless?”
“Dante says much worse. He believes Joseph will cut off the alimony payments long before the judgment date.”
The technician had Chloe switch her hands.
“Ohhh, what will Rosa do then?” Salena asked.
“The house is free and clear. The taxes are nothing in comparison to the norm. She says she has savings. How much, we don’t know.
” Chloe knew that when it all boiled down, she and Dante would make sure Rosa had what she needed.
Worrying about her financial situation was one of the reasons she and Dante were putting off kids. They couldn’t afford both.
“Has she ever worked?”
“Thirty years ago,” Chloe said.
“I can’t imagine having to figure it all out again in my fifties.”
“Hopefully we’ll never have to. In the meantime, my mama is hiding something, and Dante’s appears to be living her best life.”
They both sat with that thought bouncing around.
“Are you coming for Sunday dinner this weekend?” Salena asked.
“Yeah. It’s low-key. Dante has a charter. Gio and Emma are staying home.” Family dinners were a mixed bag at this point. But they were never missed, if possible.
“Tell you what. I’m going to staff up and invite myself. Can you get Rosa to come?”
Chloe hummed; a smile started to spread over her face. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“If your mama is hiding something, there is one person that would know what that is. Between the two of them, someone’s bound to slip.”
Chloe switched hands again, her mind racing.
Then, from nowhere, the technician said, “It’s a man.”
“I don’t know. Rosa? Maybe. But my mama . . .”
Chloe’s and Salena’s gazes met.
“I think she’s right,” she said. “What else could it possibly be?”
Chloe blinked . . . twice.
A tiny spark of hope flared in her chest. “We need a plan.”