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“Electrical outage, mangled bridesmaid’s gown, and coitus interruptus. A day in the life.”
Ashlyn burst out laughing. “I don’t even want to know the details. I might not hold down my cup of Laurel’s strawberries.”
“Probably not,” Gia agreed. She placed the final reports on Ashlyn’s desk. “Besides the checks, what’s important are the rave reviews our clients gave us. We’ll be getting three d
efinite and two probable referrals. All from clients who have assured me that price is not an object. In fact…” Gia glanced at her watch. “Potential bridal client number one will be arriving at ten thirty for our first meeting. She’s bringing her mother, her future mother-in-law, and her sister.”
“Then I’ll let you go to your office and prep.” Ashlyn rose and walked around the desk to give Gia’s hands an unexpected squeeze. “You really are a wonderful asset. I see a big promotion on the horizon—and not too far in the future if you keep up this track record.”
“Thank you, Ashlyn. That means a lot.” Gia squeezed her hands back, once again feeling that tinge of guilt. Ashlyn was a great boss, but the junior partnership she was alluding to was not what Gia had in mind for her future.
She left Ashlyn’s office and headed down the hall to her own home base—a small, cozier copy of Ashlyn’s office, with the addition of a half-dozen family photos and an upholstered rose and gold lounger. Gia adored that lounger. It doubled as a stylish sitting area for her clients and an I-desperately-need-to-take-a-break relaxation spot for her when the day was spinning out of control. Now, she shut her door and blew by the lounger, heading for her desk and her upcoming meeting.
She’d just begun glancing through her notes when her cell phone rang. She glanced down at the caller ID and smiled.
“Hi, Mom,” she answered.
“Am I interrupting a meeting? Or maybe a circus?” Maria Russo’s voice was tinged with humor.
Gia chuckled. “No, the wildness is temporarily over. And I don’t have a client meeting for an hour. So what’s up? Are you and Dad okay?”
“The usual. Dad is working too hard, running from New Rochelle to the Bronx and back since he doesn’t fully trust anyone to manage the delis without him, and I’m working too hard taking care of his billing and collecting.”
Nick Russo owned two small Italian delis, where you could get anything from a hot or cold sandwich to a full takeout meal—cooked to order from scratch—to homemade desserts that would make your mouth water. And Maria was not only the baker, she was the accountant. They had a few great cooks and sandwich makers, but, like Gia, her parents were control freaks.
As a result, the Russos were far from rich, but they were doing okay, particularly for this lousy economy. They lived in a modest house in New Rochelle—a house they’d bought twenty years ago after leaving Bozeman to move back east. Talk about a bad fit. The Russos were about as well-suited for life in Montana as they were for life on the moon. But Gia had been adopted after an endless wait, and her parents were off-the-charts protective. Her mother had read that Montana was a much healthier environment for a child to grow up in. Thus, the move.
They’d hated the West from the start. Far from the city they loved and, more importantly, from the extended family they loved, they’d lasted eight years in Bozeman before relocating back home.
Gia had no problem adapting. Even though she’d really liked the open space and cold air of Montana, she loved New York more. Her parents often took her to the City to see the sights, and the pulse of the Big Apple gave her a rush of excitement even then. Plus, she was surrounded by doting relatives—eight aunts and uncles and twelve cousins, which made the situation the best of the best.
Even now that she was on her own, she’d stayed close to home. Her parents’ house was about a twenty-minute drive from Gia’s place in Rye, and Gia went there at least twice a week for dinner or to hang out and watch a weeknight Yankee game.
She understood that her parents would have wanted a big family. But it wasn’t meant to be. Gia was their miracle. So they’d poured all their love into her. And she’d blossomed from that love.
Given how close they all were, Gia knew her mother and father to a tee. And right now, there was an undercurrent to her mother’s voice that Gia picked up on right away.
“Okay, Mom, what is it?” she asked. “You didn’t just call to say hi. You sound like a kid who’s asking for an extra portion of ice cream and is nervous about what her mother would say.”
“That would be you, Gia, not me,” her mother retorted good-naturedly. “Ice cream was always first on your list. Did you think I didn’t notice the spoon marks in the part-used gallons—the ones you tried to smooth over?”
Gia flinched. All these years, she really thought she’d pulled one over on her mother with that one. “Guilty as charged.”
“Same here.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Shoot.”
Maria sighed. “Uncle Frank’s sixty-fifth birthday is coming up next month. Aunt Silvia wants to do something special, not just a backyard barbecue. Your name came up, and she was wondering if you might have any suggestions.”
Gia burst out laughing. “Translated: Could I please come up with the most awesome birthday theme ever and then pick the place, take care of the arrangements, and pull off the whole celebration sometime in the next few months.”
“July ninth,” Maria clarified. “I think it’s a Sunday. But it’s also Frank’s lucky date, whatever that means. Silvia wants to have it then.”
“Even better. I now have six weeks to make our entire family happy with as little infighting as possible.”
