Our Italian Summer Page 5

  “I pitch next week. If I get it, the brand has the potential to go national and bring in some bigger clients. It can change everything.”

  She frowned, but she was focused on the meat, slicing off a piece and giving it a taste test. “I thought F&F was already profitable. You were written up in that magazine. Allegra, taste this, does it need more salt?”

  “Yes, but even though the company’s grown, it only takes a few lost accounts to crash back down. I’m always looking to increase the company’s profits, Mom. Growth is everything, and one mistake can be critical with all the competition in this market.”

  “It’s good,” Allegra said, nodding. My mother’s face lit up, and she powered up the electric knife, expertly slicing thick white pieces and separating the dark. The mixer roared, pausing only so Allegra could swipe a taste, her face screwed up in concentration as she sifted through the flavors on her tongue to decide if it was good enough. I watched them focus on their tasks with a strange sort of distance, feeling oddly out of place as I drank my wine and relaxed at the table, talking of a world they didn’t seem to care about. The longing for my dad cut deep. He knew the sacrifices it took to maintain a successful business.

  Sure, he’d been gone a lot, but when he was with us, his focus was complete. He’d play tickle monster and read endless books and take me out for ice cream. I remembered lingering for hours at the dinner table, watching him drink little cups of black espresso and talking about fascinating subjects. He’d taught me so much about the ins and outs of running a business: how to figure out invaluable information by reading a person and their tells; how to redirect a dialogue and create trust; how to upsell once the client was hooked. Without some type of connection, failure was imminent. I’d soaked up his lessons and vowed to be just like him one day.

  And I was.

  After he died, we’d been able to sell the business to his partner and set Mom up with a nice cushion, especially since she had no social security. He’d done everything to take care of his family. Had he experienced the same distance with my mom when he spoke about work?

  I’d never know.

  Soon, all the food was prepped and on the table. We passed around bowls of fresh peas, potatoes, turkey, and cranberry sauce. I’d avoided the bread—always ruthless with limiting carbs—but took a healthy portion of Allegra’s potatoes, surprised at the creamy texture and flavor, which were restaurant quality. “Honey, these are really good,” I said. My daughter’s flushed cheeks were an even bigger surprise, and she ducked her head quickly as if hiding her pleasure at my comment. My heart squeezed. Had I not been acknowledging her enough? I always told her she was smart and could do anything she put her mind to, but she usually rolled her eyes or made some snide comment that cut off my praise.

  “Thanks. Nonni knows all the tricks. She’s teaching me how to make lasagna next.”

  My mother laughed. “That will be easy compared to the Easter pie. Remember that fiasco?”

  My daughter laughed with her. “That was harder than a Regents test! Mom, have you ever made it before?”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t get her into the kitchen unless I bribed her,” Mom said with a snort.

  “It’s insane! There’s like a thousand steps, and four kinds of meat, and the layering process is a math equation.”

  “But worth it, right?” Mom asked.

  “So worth it. I wish we could make them year-round instead of only at Easter,” Allegra said.

  “Are you kidding? After I make even one of those I need a nap.”

  I smiled, enjoying the pleasure on their faces, even as the tiny bite of jealousy at their closeness reared up. I smothered it quickly, embarrassed. I was thrilled Allegra loved her grandmother so much, especially since she never got to spend time with Dad.

  “Now, I wanted to talk to you both about an idea I had for this summer,” my mother announced. She met my gaze with an odd intensity, her brown eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and pleading. “But you need to hear me out first.”

  Probably a knitting or cooking class she wanted us to all do together, I figured, indulging in another spoonful of potatoes. “Sure, what is it?”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. I’m getting older, and one day, I may not be able to get around as well. Allegra will be going off to college, maybe working a summer job, and I feel like since your business has been growing, you haven’t had time to slow down at all. I’ve always dreamed of going to Italy to see where your great-grandmother was born. So, I contacted a travel agent and worked out a trip for us to take together. This summer.”

  Shock barreled through me. I figured Allegra might be jumping up and down, but pure distress shone from her face as she stared at my mother. “You want us to go to Italy?” I asked. “All of us?”

  “Yes! We need to take some time as a family before everything changes. Summer is the perfect time—you’ll be done with your new client, and Allegra will be off, and I’m treating for the whole thing. I socked away some extra money from your father’s life insurance. And look at the information I have.” She jumped up from the chair and withdrew a catalogue and folder from the junk drawer. “We can combine a tour along with a villa rental in Tuscany! For the first three weeks, we’ll see Rome and Florence and Venice, and all the other amazing cities, and then we’ll stay at an actual vineyard. There’s even a lake for Allegra.” She shoved a bunch of glossy brochures at us, the covers filled with sprawling houses surrounded by lush green hills and trees. “I’ll take care of everything—we can leave the first week of July and return early August.”

  My fingers closed around the sleek paper, but already I was trying to think of the best way to phrase my rejection. Sure, I wanted to visit Italy—who didn’t? But not for a month on an extended tour. If I did score the Lexi’s Lemonade account, I’d be buckled down overseeing every aspect of the campaign for most of the summer, plus the demands of my other clients.

  Plus, I couldn’t handle being with my mother for that long.

  I opened my mouth to gently raise all my objections, but Allegra was already speaking. “Nonni, I’m so sorry. I can’t do Italy this year. I-I made some other plans for the summer.”

  My mother’s face fell. She blinked, glancing down at the line of brochures in confusion. “I think your mom would agree you don’t have to get a job right now. And it will be an early graduation present!”

  Allegra chewed at her lip and touched my mother’s shoulder. “It sounds amazing, and I do want to go one day, just not now. Maybe next year before college?” she suggested. “We can have more time to plan.”

  “Allegra’s right, Mom,” I said quietly. “I think this is really sweet, but there’s so much going on, it just won’t work. Definitely next summer. In fact, I’ll help you plan it—we’ll do a two-week tour and see all the highlights, including Naples. Okay?”

  Her shoulders drooped. I was ready for a full-on guilt trip, but she raised her chin, staring at me with a fierce determination I rarely experienced. “No,” she said firmly. “It’s not okay. It has to happen now or it won’t happen at all.” She grew tense with frustration, and her breath came faster. “Don’t you see it’s important? We all need this trip. We’ve mentioned doing something like this for years, and if we don’t grab the opportunity and make the time, we won’t get another chance.” Grief flashed briefly in her eyes. “It goes too fast. A trip like this will give us memories for the rest of our lives. It can be an entire turning point, don’t you see?”

  “Mom, calm down. You have to understand Allegra and I have a lot of responsibilities. And though it sounds amazing, we can’t just be ready to take a month off. Allegra starts track in August, and I own a business. I could never get all that time off.”

  “Nonni, I’m sorry,” Allegra said. “Don’t get upset. I know you want to see Naples. Maybe spring break? Or Christmas break if you don’t want to wait?
”

  I nodded. “Absolutely. Here, can I take these brochures home and look at them? I’ll check our schedules and see what we come up with.”

  My mother had always been the calm one in the household, a quiet, stable presence. She rarely lost her temper, even with her Italian genes, and Dad used to joke about her good nature as the trait that held the seams together. But right now, she looked at me with a deep betrayal, like I’d done something terrible rather than say no to a European vacation with no forewarning.

  “Sure,” she said. Her voice fell flat. “Let me know what you think. I better clean up.”

  My daughter and I shared worried glances, but for the first time in a while, I didn’t know what to do. Maybe Mom was lonely and needed to get out of her house or have something big to look forward to. She’d never acted like this, as if a trip was a make or break for her happiness.

  I jumped up to help, and we cleared the table and did the dishes. Allegra kept up steady chatter, but I could tell my mother had locked herself away somewhere, even though she nodded and smiled on cue. We had a quick dessert and then we left. I hugged my mother and tried my best to console her. “Mom, get some rest; you’re tired. I promise we’ll work something out.”

  “We need this trip together, Frannie,” she said, gripping my arm. “It’s more important than you realize.”

  Her words rang in my head on the drive back. My daughter kept her usual silence until we were halfway home. “Mom, you think Nonni is okay? She’s not sick, is she?”

  “No, honey, I always keep up-to-date with her doctor’s appointments. Maybe we can try to squeeze in a weekend and take her somewhere.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m a little surprised at your reaction, though. Figured a trip to Italy would be a dream, especially with you being such an art lover. What do you have planned that you’d rather do? You wanted to talk to me about your summer plans, right?”

  She shifted in the seat. “My friends and I want to do a little cross-country driving. Explore some new places, you know?”

  “Bonnie and Claire?”

  “No, some friends I recently met. One is a musician, and another writes poetry. They want to book some performances in different clubs and I want to go with them.”

  Already, the scenario didn’t sound completely truthful. I could tell by her forced-casual tone that she was trying to phrase it so I’d think it wasn’t a big deal. Also, her fingers twisted in her telltale gesture that said she was stretching the truth. God, I was tired. I had crap to do when I got home, and I wasn’t up for another round in the ring. I tried to keep my voice nonthreatening. “Who are your new friends?”

  She hesitated. Bingo. “Freda, David, and Connor.”

  “Two boys? You’ve never mentioned any male friends before.”

  “Because I thought I only had to provide you a spreadsheet with my grades, not my friends.” The resentment leaked in even though she was still trying to be civil. “It’s no big deal.”

  “For you, it’s not. Where are you going? Staying? Who’s driving?”

  “The whole point is not to have exact plans. We want to head upstate to a few towns, and Connor’s dad has an RV we’ll use so we don’t have to worry about hotels.”

  I wanted to laugh at her idea that I’d even pretend to let her go, but I needed to save the big no for later, when I was more prepared. “An RV? That’s not safe, honey. And I know it sounds glamorous, like some cool movie, but it doesn’t work that way. You’d need to schedule sites to park, and the plumbing could get backed up, and what if you break down? I don’t think you’ve thought this through. Do I know them from your school? Who are their parents?”

  A smothered groan hit my ears. I could feel the hot burn of her stare as I concentrated on the road. “Mom, they’re not part of your fancy country club, okay? They’re just regular people who are interesting and creative and want to experience new things—not pretend this crappy world full of pretentious people is all I have to look forward to.”

  I tamped down my own temper. “Sorry, I didn’t realize working hard to have a decent life was pretentious or wrong.”

  “You never listen. And if I have to hear one more time about everything you’ve given me, I’m going to die.”

  “Maybe if I hear you complaining about everything you have one more time, I’ll die.”

  That cost me. The tension in the car cranked up and the temperature dropped. Why was I always snatching the bait? But, damn, she pissed me off.

  “Forget it. I’m going to be eighteen this summer anyway.”

  I raised my brow. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  She shrugged. “I can do what I want at eighteen. I can vote. Make my own decisions. You can’t stop me.”

  I couldn’t halt my strangled laugh, even though I tried. “Oh, yes, I can. You live in my house, under my rules, and you’re not going anywhere in an RV with some strange kids. I’d need to meet them, talk to their parents, get a detailed itinerary, check out places, make sure the campgrounds are safe. Maybe if we go over it all and you check your attitude, we can talk about it.”

  She pressed her hands against her temples and shook her head back and forth like she was having a breakdown. “I can’t stand it anymore! Isn’t there anything in your life you don’t plan? Was there even one time you did something exciting or different or adventurous? God, I’ll die if I ever end up like you!”

  I was always the bad guy. Sometimes I wondered, if there was a father figure around, would things be different? Or would she still hate me because I was her mother? “Don’t talk to me like that. I don’t deserve it. There’s not a mother in the world who’d allow you to take off. And if your so-called friends are doing it, I bet they have parents who don’t care. Consider yourself lucky.”

  I pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine. The silence was explosive. I waited for her to rush out, scream, or come up with some more vicious verbal attacks, but she just turned her head and looked at me for a while. For a few shocking seconds, she reminded me of my mother, that same yearning and grief in her beautiful dark eyes, where once there had been love and trust and joy.

  “Sure, you care, Mom. But not the way you think. Not about the stuff that’s most important.”

  She opened the door and ran out before I had a chance to answer.

  I sat in the car, in the dark, and watched as rain began to drizzle down on the windshield. I watched the running rivulets trickle in wiggly waves and wondered what she meant.

  “I care about you,” I whispered.

  But there was no one there to hear me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Allegra

  “Are we ready to party?”

  Freda waved her hands in the air, scrunched up tight next to me in the back seat of the car. Connor shouted in agreement, pumping up the music, and blew out a steady vape stream. I liked that a lot better than the cigarettes so had gratefully switched. It didn’t give me that unpleasant burn in the back of my throat and went into my lungs smoothly, with the flavor of mocha.

  We pulled into a house where a bunch of cars were already parked, and kids packed the grounds, drinking and smoking, while a small bonfire crackled with welcoming warmth. “Let’s go, ladies,” Connor said, climbing out and opening the door. We headed in, and I stuck tight with Freda. I’d told my mom I was studying at Bonnie’s tonight, and she never bothered to check up. The past week had been better than the entire year. My new friends had no qualms about breaking rules and searching out fun. For the first time in ages, my insides felt lighter, but that good feeling was still mixed with a shred of worry I couldn’t seem to shake. This wasn’t my normal life. I was a rule follower and felt as if for the last few years I’d lived in a fake, shallow tunnel, just existing. I didn’t seem to fit—with either the popular crowd or the athletes or the nerds. With Freda, David, and Connor, I finally fe
lt heard. They listened to my opinions, and we had endless discussions about life and embraced the hard stuff rather than pretending it didn’t exist. And even though Mom had said no to my summer proposal, I wasn’t done. I’d just decided to back off and go ahead with my own plans. After all, I already had money stashed away in cash and didn’t need to get into my savings account. I even had a credit card in my own name, for emergencies. There were options, but I was still hopeful I could convince Mom to let me go without a war.

  We went inside and popped open some beers, and Freda introduced me around. Most of the kids were from the public school and seemed cool. I drank the beer and hung back for a while, taking in the groups and who was hooking up with whom. There were a few hot guys, but I kept glancing over at David, keeping him in my peripheral vision. He didn’t move around a lot or look interested in any specific girls. I liked the quiet calm settling around him, as he hooked his ankle over his knee, sprawled back on the couch while he talked to some guy friends. His hair fell messily over his brows. I had the weirdest urge to brush it back.

  Keeping my eyes on the time, I let Freda know I needed a ride back to my car by ten or my mom might start texting. She usually didn’t bother me unless it got too late—then I’d suddenly get a bunch of calls or a stream of texts like she’d gone into a panic. It was better to be one step ahead of her.

  I went upstairs to use the bathroom, taking a few minutes to fuss with my hair. I’d worn it down today instead of in its usual ponytail. I liked the thick waves and the color, but I hated blinking the strands out of my eyes or pulling them from my mouth, so it was easier to tie it back, especially with track. But now I liked the way it covered some of the harsh angles of my face. My nose was too big, and my eyes too wide apart, and of course I’d gotten a zit on my forehead again, just like a stupid beacon flashing a signal of my awkwardness. Still, I knew I wasn’t ugly. Just not beautiful or memorable.

  The door stuck, so I banged it open with a crash, then stopped short.