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Her father had an appointment that morning, and the doctor cleared him for regular food. “When the doctor said Daddy could go back to regular foods, I don’t think he meant pasta with meat sauce.”
Her father swiped a finger across the sauce spoon and sighed as he tasted Nona’s carbonara. “Look at my mother. She cooks with love and doesn’t look a day over sixty.”
“The woman’s older than dirt,” Mariella’s mother mumbled under her breath. “He might have a point.”
Mariella adored her grandmother, but she looked more and more like Yoda every year. “Sure, Dad.”
Nona grabbed her son’s face in a hard grip and kissed his cheek. “I make’a you strong again, Paulie. La cucina è medicina.”
He smiled. “I love you, Ma.”
Mariella’s mother rolled her eyes. “Get a room.”
“Where we at?” Giovanni called, as he and Erin came into the kitchen.
No better than Nona, Mariella’s mother rushed over to greet her son, showering him with kisses and similar unearned praise. Her Irish heritage overrun by Italian culture.
Her father chuckled as he shook his head at the inflated display. “Talk about needing a room.”
Mariella laughed. His heart might be weak, but his hearing was just fine.
Erin placed a box from the bakery on the table. “How are you feeling, Paulie?”
“Good as new. In fact, I could go for a glass of Pisano.”
“Not a chance,” their mother snapped, finally releasing Giovanni. She grabbed the bakery box and peeked inside. “These look wonderful. Mar, prep the coffee for after dinner.”
Mariella brewed a pot of decaf and stuck the dessert by the mugs. As soon as the pasta was ready, Giovanni helped Nona transfer it to a serving dish and carried it to the dining room.
“They’re nice earrings, Mariella.” Erin smiled as if she had a secret. “Are they new?”
Mariella’s hands subconsciously went to her ears. “Um, yeah. I just got them.”
“Oh, my,” her mother said, just noticing her jewelry. “Are they… They’re not real, are they?”
Mariella’s stomach pinched at the thought of what such stones must cost and her cheeks heated. “They are.”
Erin continued to grin as her mother scowled. “Mariella, why would you spend your money on such things when you still have school loans to pay?”
“I didn’t buy them.”
Everything stilled, her family’s expectant eyes locking on her as Erin nearly bounced with glee. Yeah, her sister-in-law knew who gave them to her.
“Who bought them?” her father finally asked.
She glanced at each suspicious face. “Harrison Montgomery.”
Giovanni scoffed. “You should pawn them and pay off some of your loans.”
Erin smacked him in the shoulder. “You, shut up. I think they’re stunning.”
“I honestly don’t know what he was thinking. We’ve barely said a word to each other in the last two weeks.”
Her mother frowned. “Well, they have to mean something. A man doesn’t buy a woman diamonds and pearls without good reason.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” her father growled.
“I swear, I didn’t do anything to provoke this.” She felt like a suspect who had done nothing wrong.
They settled in at the dining room table, a brief truce taking place as they dished out the food.
“If you didn’t do anything to earn them, then I’m sure he expects something in return. You should give them back.” Her father fished out a slice of Italian bread from the basket. “Col, where the hell’s the butter?”
“We’re using oil now.”
“I don’t want oil. I like my Italian bread with butter.”
“It’s how they eat it in the Mediterranean. And when a man gives a woman good jewelry, she keeps it. End of story.”
Her father gave up trying to persuade her mother and turned to his own mother. “Ma, will you get me some butter?”
Nona rose, her instinct to serve her son’s every whim ingrained after years of service.
Mariella’s mother stopped her. “Mary, ignore him. Paulie, so help me God, if you mention butter one more time, I’m dumping your plate and making you a salad.”
Giovanni chuckled, and Mariella rolled her eyes. These restrictions would never last. Her father lived off red wine, fats, and processed meat.
Giovanni popped a bite of meatball into his mouth. “I thought you two were avoiding each other.”
“Who’s avoiding who?” her mother asked, ladling more sauce onto the pasta.
“He’s talking about Harrison,” Mariella answered. “And, of course, we see each other. He’s staying at the hotel.”
“He was very nice to sit with Mariella at the hospital,” her mother commented. “He waited with her all night, Paulie. You would have been proud.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Friends don’t buy each other diamonds, Mariella. A mother knows these things. Those earrings mean something.”
“The earrings probably just mean that he’s in love with her,” Erin said then pointed across the table. “Can someone pass the salad?”
Mariella gawked at her. “What?”
Giovanni scowled and passed the salad, grumbling, “So much for not getting involved.”
Erin shrugged. “I don’t know why we can’t talk about it. I think it’s great.”
