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He marveled as they walked through the beautifully restored bungalow that magically seemed the perfect size for however many occupants it had on a given night. At Christmas, they’d had nearly twenty people comfortably around the table. Today there were half that, and it still felt full of love and warmth. How did they manage to do that?
Frankie peeled off and flopped on the couch in the family room between Adrian and Dom, lost to the lure of the Giants’ home opener. He peeked out the back picture window. Sofia and Natalie sat on the deck, rubbing identical swollen bellies. Seven-year-old Daisy was supervising her soon-to-be stepdad Enzo as they expanded a fairy empire in the garden.
Jo alone ruled the kitchen. Jake perched on a barstool at her island and watched her fill a crystal vase and fuss with the hydrangeas and tea roses he’d brought. He had nothing but admiration for a woman who could make this house a home, keep these people a family, and manage to make it look effortless, even as she dealt with the emotional strain of the past four years. It was a skill and a talent that was often overlooked.
But Jake was a director. He’d been raised on a set swarming with people instead of in a home with a family. He was a pro at recognizing power dynamics and unseen labor. Josephine Valenti was the key to this family. Everyone was happily bending over backward to give her this dream vineyard as a surprise. Her children adored her. Her husband was concerned enough about the state of their marriage to go to extreme lengths to make her happy. Jake wanted to know what made her tick.
He couldn't imagine his own mother inspiring that kind of devotion from anyone.
“Thank you again for inviting me to dinner.” Jake reached for the bottle of wine. “Can I open this for you?”
Jo buried her nose in the flowers and inhaled deeply. “Someone’s been spilling my secrets.”
“Pardon?”
“People only bring my favorite wine when they’re trying to butter me up. Who told you and what do you want?”
“No one had to tell me. You served it at Christmas, and I figured it would be one you liked. And I might be angling to get invited back for whatever is making this kitchen smell amazing.” He winked and made Jo laugh and hand over the wine key.Gotcha.
“Well, aren’t you clever? Are you a useful sort in the kitchen or should I dismiss you and your wine to go join the crew on the couch?”
“I can boil water, and I grill a mean cheese sandwich, but please don’t make me go watch baseball.”
Basketball was the only sport he could abide, because it moved fast enough to hold his attention. Hockey was a close second. But dear God, baseball and football drove him nuts. All the starting and stopping and time between plays left him too much time to think about the thousand and one things on his to-do list.
“Okay, you can stay and get your first lesson in Italian cooking.”
She set him to slicing eggplant and zucchini for sautéing, and he soaked up her instructions and her charm, his director's brain tucking away details. This was how he'd imagined family dinners when he was a kid. His own mother hadn’t been capable of this. His parents were both only children, as was he, so there hadn’t been any extended family to pick up their slack.
His father had spent most of his time trying to revive his own failing acting career or drinking himself stupid. His mother had given up on him and instead devoted herself to Jake's career in the limelight from his infancy. First baby food commercials, then bit roles on sitcoms. Neither parent had cared when he said he’d rather go to school. Neither had listened when he said he felt sick. They had never put him first. He never knew how his mother got the Hudson House show to be written around him, but once filming began, it had been full-on. His mother had abandoned most of his care to on-set tutors and nannies who ferried him back and forth. She was much happier living the LA life she’d been promised.
"Can I ask you a question, Jo?"
"Sure." Her hands didn't miss a beat, sautéing the veggies.
"After Gabe died, why didn't you leave Dom? What kept you together?"
She tapped the wooden spoon against the pan and braced herself against the stovetop. She took a deep breath and turned to face him. "That is complicated…and simple to answer. I love him. I wanted more time with him, not less. When Gabe died, I realized that none of this time is promised, and it shook me out of the rut I'd been in. I want to shake Dom out of his, so we can do the things we always said we'd do together. Before it's too late." She shrugged and turned back to the stove, cutting him off from the hard emotions that had flickered across her face.
His parents hadn't wanted anything to do with each other by the time he was twelve. His mother always felt that his father had wasted his potential, and by proxy, hers. Boy, had she been pissed that his father had finally started getting more roles after their divorce. It had been another blow when Jake had quit acting at eighteen and fired her as his manager. To this day, she believed she'd been robbed by everyone in her life. He wondered if she'd ever learn that no one owed her a damn thing. Not likely.
“Try this and tell me what you think.” Jo handed him a forkful of linguine in a light, creamy sauce speared to the utensil with a clove of roasted garlic and a sun-dried tomato. One perfect bite.
He moaned as the flavors burst and melted on his tongue. “I think you are a treasure, Jo Valenti.” He captured her hand that reached for his fork and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“What’s all this?” Dom blustered as he entered the kitchen and traded his empty beer for a full one from the fridge.
“I’m trying to convince your wife to run away with me and cook linguine every day,” Jake teased, but Dom didn’t laugh. His face fell, and Jake let go of Jo's hand.
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s helping me put dinner together, which is more than I can say for any of the rest of you.”
“Come on, Jojo. That's not fair. You always shoo us out of the kitchen!” Dom protested and he snagged a stuffed pepperoncini from the tray of appetizers in the fridge.
“Because your idea of helping is snacking on the antipasti!”
“I fixed the leaking faucet last week,” Dom grumbled.
“And after only two weeks of me nagging. I am truly grateful.” She patted Dom’s cheek. “Now go round up our children. Dinner’s ready.”
