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Nigel squinted his eyes and gazed off into the horizon as if he were traveling back through time in his own head. He appeared to be visiting a distant memory in quiet contemplation. I stuffed another forkful of frittata into my mouth and waited patiently for him to return to the present with his response.
“I’d have to say I respected your grandfather more than I actually liked him. He was quite stern as I’m sure you know and very no-nonsense. Very serious indeed. But also extremely generous, charitable to a fault even…. if that’s possible. He was honorable, well-mannered and his work ethic was second to none.”
“Wow. I appreciate your candor Nigel. I’m curious about something else too, if you don’t mind more questions.”
“Not at all inspector…….have you ever thought about working for Scotland Yard?”
“Do you think I’m like my grandfather at all? Do I remind you of him in any way?”
Nigel stared at me for a long time, seemingly composing a thoughtful answer.
“Yes there is a similar quality I suppose.”
“What is it Nigel? What traits do I have in common with him?”
“I must say your taste in suits is every bit as impeccable as his was. Very stylish…. Will there be anything else Edward?”
“No thank you Nigel. That will be all.”
“Thank you Edward.”
Seriously? Our taste in clothes?! That’s the only commonality Nigel could come up with? Really? What the fuck? I wasn’t quite sure if he was jerking my chain or not. His British humor escaped me sometimes. I’m sure he sensed my obvious frustration with his answer. I could tell the whole conversation made him somewhat uncomfortable and that’s why I didn’t press him any further.
Why was I so interested in being like Nonno all of a sudden anyway? Nigel’s description was completely spot-on accurate; charitable to a fucking fault. He gave away ridiculous amounts of money! I never understood it. As soon as Paul Newman started donating his food product profits to charity, that was it! Nonno wanted to do the same thing. Who the fuck cares what Paul Newman’s company does? What did some old actor even know about making Italian dressing and spaghetti sauce anyway? That remained our biggest disagreement right up to the end. Too bad he had to leave this earth with that unsettled argument between us.
I guess the truth was scary for me to face: With his passing from this life also came the passing of the family business torch: The entire Armani empire that he had worked for his whole life; his legacy; everything he had. And unless I had seriously miscalculated his feelings for me, it would all be passed into my hands. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was really worthy of his trust. It was such a huge responsibility and his shoes were a big fucking intimidating pair to fill. What if I ended up running his business into the ground? What if Julia was right? What if he actually decided not to leave it in the hands of an immature playboy like me?
Holy shit! Julia! I’m was such an inconsiderate jerk I didn’t even make sure she got to the club okay yesterday. Nonno would never have done that. He was a classy gentleman. Honorable like Nigel said. Fuck! My feelings of self-doubt were literally driving me crazy. The reading of the will could not come soon enough for me now.
