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“Nonna got into line dancing a few years back.” Heath is smiling but his teeth are clenched. “At the local rec center.”
“For exercise,” Lydia assures me.
“Now she and a pack of her friends hit up country dive bars, and I have to listen to songs about dogs and love gone wrong and whiskey,” Heath finishes. “Thanks, rec center.”
I like how annoyed he is. Mostly because he’s still ridiculously cute and he’s normally the chillest dude I’ve ever met. I like that this one tiny old lady can set him off his calm.
Also, she mentioned lunch and I’m hungry, and most people who go by names like Nonna know how to cook. I mean I could be wrong, but I’m betting I might’ve hit the jackpot here.
“So come along, children. I’ve got everything ready for lunch. I’ll set another place, and you can tell me all about this beautiful young woman you’ve brought with you to see your nonna.” She turns and starts toward what I suspect is a formal dining room.
“We can’t. We have to work,” Heath announces. “Ivy is my business partner, so stop eyeing her like she’s the future mother of your grandchildren.”
I knew I called that one right.
She turns and looks hurt. “But I made lasagna.”
Oh, we are not taking a moral stand here. I get it. He doesn’t want his grandmother to think she can trick him into visiting, but I have no such qualms. No one makes me lasagna. I’m lucky if my mom stocks the kitchen with pizza rolls, and at CeCe’s version of a weekday lunch, she usually just passes me a martini.
“And we would love to join you,” I say.
Lydia beams my way. “Excellent. I’ll have a place for you in a moment, my dear.”
The minute she’s gone Heath turns my way. “Are you kidding? You do know that she’s not going to buy the whole business partner thing. She’s going to view you as a potential romantic partner for me. She’s already wondering if we’re compatible and how soon she could have us married off with two point five kids. My grandmother will ask you all kinds of invasive questions and probably try to turn this lunch of hers into a matchmaking session.”
I shrug because he’s seriously underestimating how much I’ll do for decent food. I spent years in California eating sushi and tofu and fish tacos. I’m back in New York and I’ve barely had street food, much less something cooked by the expert hand of a Sicilian woman who raised a family. “I think we should name the first one Alex.” I start for the dining room. “We slap an -er or -dra on the end and voila. Or just leave it Alex, and that way we’re not gendering the kid. Very trendy. Oh, that smells delicious.”
He hurries after me as though he can stave off the impending disaster. “Fine. Apparently we’re staying for lunch, but Nonna, she really is a business partner.”
The dining room is cozy with a six-seater table that looks midcentury modern and a matching china cabinet complete with old-school dishes and plates and probably silver. I settle into the seat Lydia gestures to and there’s a real napkin someone has to launder. “I am. I own forty percent of your grandson’s company.”
Now Lydia’s eyes narrow. “Forty percent?”
I nod. She should know everything. “Yup. Of course, I’ve brought in one hundred percent of our seed money.”
Lydia nods Heath’s way, and he begins the process of passing a basket of garlic bread around. “Why do you need seed money? From what I understood Heath has everything he needs to get the job done.”
I wonder what stories he’s been telling his grandmother. I should totally back him up on everything, but then the smell of the garlic bread hits me. It’s like truth serum, and I can’t lie to the woman who baked this bit of deliciousness. I put two slices on my plate and wonder how little salad I can take and still look like a normal vegetable-eating human. I don’t want to fill up on lettuce. I need room for pasta and cheese and…oh, that is Italian sausage in there. Jackpot. “Well, he needed someone to fix his code, and he’s going to need a couple of people to work on the base and ancillary codes. Building an AI with the capability to do what he wants it to do could take years on his own. We’ve got to do training and testing and come up with a business plan. It’s a lot of work, and not the kind we’re going to find unpaid interns for, if you know what I mean.”
I manage to get a big old serving of lasagna on my plate. It’s gooey and cheesy, and I might work for this food. I wonder if we can get coders willing to work for Lydia’s pasta dishes.
