Say Ye (10 page)

“We’re friends, right?” he said instead.

Lita opened her eyes. A balloon of relief soared up. “I hope so.”

“Good. Almost the younger sister I never had. Janetta used to tease me I needed one.”

“I look forward to meeting her.” Janetta would be up for Thanksgiving.

Joe chuckled. “Maybe you shouldn’t. You want me to walk you in?”

Lita shook her head and thanked him for inviting her. She went inside and sighed as she shut the door behind her. Uncle Enzo called from his sitting room.

“Have a nice evening, my dear?” he said.

“Yes, Joe wants to adopt me as his sister.”

“Does he?” Uncle Enzo raised an eyebrow.

Lita sat in the paisley wing chair next to the forest green sofa; it was clear Uncle Enzo chose the décor for this part of the house.

“I’m a good sister.” She slipped off her heels and curled her feet under her.

He reached over and patted her hand. She smiled and leaned back to watch the late news with him.

Lita forgot her worries as Thanksgiving approached. After all these years, she would have family to cook with and enough guests so she could make some new dishes she’d wanted to try, like pecan pie and cornbread dressing. Even Celeste and her family would join them so they’d need to have two tables to fit everyone. Celeste hugged her more closely than usual when she arrived early--her family would arrive later.

“Your granddaughter Gina couldn’t come?” Lita said as they walked arm in arm into the already crowded kitchen.

“No, she’s having Thanksgiving with her boyfriend’s family in Los Angeles.”

“I hope to meet her some other time, then,” Lita said.

They joined Sophia to finish the rolls. Carlo and Joe took trays of colorful antipasti to the living room, while Uncle Enzo sat, after he greeted Celeste, talking to Janetta, up for the holiday from San Luis Obispo. Lita hadn’t spoken to her much. Janice and Vincente prepped vegetables at the sink while Nick, one of Carlo’s younger brothers, started his risotto. He and Lita stood together at the stove; he stirred the creamy rice while she watched the ruby cranberry sauce bubble.

“I’m glad to finally meet you,” he said, as he had earlier. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And I you.” Nick had known Lorenzo’s mother before she married his father. More family rumors hinted at a long-ago summer romance between Nick and Annamaria, Lorenzo’s mom.

“It’s been a busy time at the restaurant or we would have met sooner. You’re just as Lorenzo told me.”

“Lorenzo? I thought--”

“Lorenzo and the rest of the family,” he said as he added more hot broth to the rice. “I have a lot on my mind. Forgive me.”

“Of course.” She looked at him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes again.

The meal was a feast and Lita giggled, smiled, and joined the bantering, loud conversations. Everyone held hands to pray before they ate, exchanged news and stories, and exclaimed over the food. All the men did the dishes after dinner, except Uncle Enzo and Vittorio, who sat with their coffee cups surveying everyone like two grand dukes presiding over their territories. While her family relaxed in chairs and sofas, some younger people on the floor, drank coffee, and ate apple, pumpkin, and pecan pies, Lita stood by the doorway and beheld each detail.

She wandered from the living room, into the foyer, where the younger D’Angelo men and Pete debated football. She glanced in the dining room, where Janice sat in a hushed conversation with Frank and Eva D’Angelo. She traipsed toward the kitchen. She stopped to study the DeGrazia family portrait which hung near the doorway. She loved their now familiar faces, she loved the warm cream walls and plush deep blue carpeting, the family pictures and paintings of Italy which lined the walls, the mellowed hardwood floors downstairs, cushioned by blue and cream floral area rugs, the crackling fire in the living room fireplace, though she felt a bit too warm when Gianni sidled up behind her and whispered how great she looked. She only missed Lee, who was on vacation. That was a lie, she missed Lorenzo too. She smiled at Gianni and went back into the living room to sit at Celeste’s feet, where there was no more room for anyone else.

Lee came over two evenings later to take her to Nick’s. Her brother started a yearly tradition of taking Lita out the day before her birthday when she turned eight and he was fourteen. Lita wasn’t sure if it had been his idea or Jane’s, but, whatever the reason, she appreciated this special time with her older brother. They used to go for ice cream sundaes, but last year, Lee took her to his favorite French restaurant in San Luis Obispo, where he and Lorenzo had also gone to college, and this year it would be Nick’s.

She loved to dress up and take extra care with her appearance, but now more so than ever. It wasn’t her favorite outfit, but she nodded at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair waved nicely, she couldn’t see the small pimple on her temple, the pink sweater cheered her, while the dark brown skirt slimmed her hips and the high-heel, knee-high boots made her appear taller. She gave herself one last approving glance and headed downstairs to join her brother.

Lee looked handsome himself, in a dark navy suit, powder blue dress shirt, and striped tie. The color brought out the blue in his green eyes and complimented his light brown cropped curls. They greeted each other, exchanged their latest news, and drove to the restaurant. Lee had been there many times--he said they served the best Italian food in the city, and Nick was a great guy, which Lita agreed with. She walked into the entry and noticed the simple but tasteful décor, from the dark fabric covered booths and chairs to crisp white tablecloths and napkins on the dark wood tables. She surveyed the far wall, knowing the evocative mural of Sorrento had been painted by Celeste’s late son. Helping her take off her coat, Lee led Lita over to the host’s stand.

Nick greeted them with his broad smile. “Your table awaits.”

He led them to a booth in the far corner, where Lorenzo stood as they approached. No one had said he was home. He looked as handsome as ever, in black Ferragamo dress shoes, pressed black slacks, a grey and black cashmere V neck sweater, his hair cut short--Lorenzo was an Italian Cary Grant. Heat spread through her limbs as she glanced at him. He and Lee exchanged greetings and a man hug: a handshake and a quick, one-armed hug with a pat on the back.

She glanced at Lee, her eyebrows raised in question. He grinned at her and shrugged. They all sat. Nick handed her a menu, which she hid behind as Lee and Lorenzo spoke. After they all ordered, she looked over at Lorenzo. He stared at her.

“Excuse me” Lee said. He stood and walked toward the hall, where Lita guessed the restrooms were.

Lita glanced at Lorenzo again. He still had his eyes on her. She rubbed her fingers on her thighs.

“How have you been?” Lorenzo rubbed his fingertip along his water glass. As he had her cheek the night they’d kissed.

She brushed her hand across her throat. How did he think she’d been? She’d thought their kiss meant something, that it was a beginning. And then he’d left.

“Okay,” she said.

He stared at her. She tried to stay angry and upset, but his look, melting and intense, made her forget.

“I thought--” How could she possibly tell him what she thought, felt? He might just want to get along for the family’s sake. She wouldn’t risk embarrassing herself or Lorenzo.

“Can we start over?” Lorenzo moved his hand toward her.

Lita nodded, not sure if he meant as a couple or as friends. The way his eyes blazed and his hand inched toward hers, she felt he meant more than friendship. But instead of taking her hand, as she thought he would, he picked up the wine list and glanced at it. She opened her mouth to ask what he’d meant, but Lee sat back down.

“You tell Lita the big news?”

“Saved it for you,” Lorenzo replied.

“Lorenzo and I are finally starting our architecture firm. We plan to open in the new year. I’ll give my notice on Monday.”

“That’s great. I know how much you two wanted that.” They used to talk about it in college—Lee would handle the architecture and Lorenzo the business. But Lorenzo’d gone into his family business. She’d heard he’d sold it, but no one had told her he was coming home, or starting a new firm with Lee.

“What’s your plan tomorrow?” Lee asked her.

“Celeste, Sophia, and Joanna are taking me to tea at the Fairmont.”

Lee said that would be nice and she asked him about the details of his plans with Lorenzo; it was easy to get Lee to talk architecture. She and Lorenzo remained quiet, glancing at each other while they ate and Lee talked.

Once they finished dinner, their waiter asked if they’d like dessert. Lita shook her head, so Lee asked for the check. Lorenzo rose.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

If Lee hadn’t been there, Lita would’ve spoken to him. But, instead, she smiled up at him and nodded.

“’Night,” Lee said as he took the check.

“Did you know he’d be here?” Lita asked as Lee led her out. They waved to Nick, who was busy helping other customers.

“Yeah. He came to see me this morning.”

Lita bundled up in her coat as they walked to Lee’s car.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had some thinking to do about things.”

“Like what?” Lita studied Lee as he held the car door for her. Ever since she found out about her father, a thorn of doubt prickled her sense of trust. It would really hurt if Lee’d been keeping secrets too.

Lee waited to speak until he got in and started driving up the hill. “Look, it’s a big step, starting this business. I have to be sure Lorenzo’s changed.”

Lita wondered why Lee needed to feel sure about that—Lorenzo’d always had a good business sense. Lorenzo’s personal life had never seemed to bother Lee before.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s your birthday. I just want you to be happy.” Lee kissed her cheek as he pulled up to Uncle Enzo’s.

Lita nodded and thanked him, but she still felt something was off.

When she got inside, she made herself a cup of earl grey tea. Uncle Enzo was in his room. She thought about the way Lorenzo looked at her, his dark eyes sparkling as if lit with some inner flame, and that he asked to start over. Hope simmered. Then she remembered the months of his avoiding her, all the opportunities he’d had to contact her. Her anger and disappointment boiled over. Bringing her tea upstairs, she got ready for bed then sat, cozy under her blankets, one last whiff of tea soothing her. She needed to sleep or she would look terrible tomorrow, her twenty-second birthday. She wanted to look her best.

The next morning, she went to church with Uncle Enzo. Lita distracted herself from thoughts of Lorenzo; she prayed and tried to give things up to God. That was difficult, but at least it helped her get through most of the day. Lita spent almost two hours getting ready. She luxuriated in a bath with her vanilla spice bubbles, put on full makeup, styled her hair twice, and spread half her closet on her bed before she decided what to wear.

She chose her favorite: a black cocktail dress of cotton and silk, with a scalloped neckline, three-quarter-length sleeves, and floral cutouts above the hem which showed a pastel pink underskirt, sheer black hose, and black high heels, also with pink cutouts. She wore a tiny gold cross on a delicate chain, a birthday present from Uncle Enzo. She wished they were having a family party, maybe then Lorenzo would be here. Her stomach fluttered. She wanted to fight for Lorenzo, but there was no one to fight, no other woman, only Lorenzo. She went downstairs to met Celeste and Sophia.

“Surprise!” her family shouted: Uncle Enzo, Sophia, Carlo, Joe, Janice, Pete and Gianni, Vittorio and Vincente, Celeste and her family, Lee and Lorenzo.

“Wow,” Lita said.

She smiled as Gianni and Joe escorted her into the dining room. The room glowed, from the bright chandelier reflecting off the starched white tablecloth, gold rimmed china, crystal, and silver, to the smiles on her family’s faces. She could hardly believe everyone fit around the cherry wood table, though it had three leaves, and had trouble following all the different conversations, but she beamed through every second of it. The only trouble was she couldn’t see Lorenzo, but maybe that was a good thing. She sat by Uncle Enzo and listened as those around her chatted about the plans, the secrets of the last days. More stories were told, all the while Lita ate her fantastic dinner, salad, breadsticks, and lasagna, perfectly balanced, the cheese and tomato sauce, meat and noodles all snugly blended, almost unable to tell where one ended and the other began. She should ask Sophia for the recipe.