It Had To Be You

by Janice Thompson

  Funny. Call me a romantic fool, but through my tears, the twinkling Christmas lights overhead almost looked like stars. And the man and woman standing in front of the crowd—my beautiful aunt and my dashing uncle? Why, they were the sun and the moon, merging to put on the most spectacular light display this family had ever seen.

  Now that was what I called ambient lighting.

  18

  Puttin’ on the Ritz

  Standing at the back of the reception hall, I had the best seat in the house. Father Michael led Rosa and Laz through the tender ceremony, and the crowd came alive with excitement as they shared their first sweet kiss as a married couple, a handful of us even clapping and cheering.

  Husband and wife. Could it really be? After all the years of quarreling and squabbling, they had laid down their swords and picked up their hearts instead. As I looked into their smiling faces, I realized the Lord had performed nothing short of a miracle.

  Rosa and Laz turned to face the congregation—if that’s what one could call a swing-band hall filled with guests— as Father Michael pronounced them Mr. and Mrs. Lazarro Rossi. At this point, cheers went up around the room, and several people—Sal included—shouted, “Evviva gli sposi! Hurray for the newlyweds!”

  Rosa and Laz practically sprinted up the aisle, clearly ready to face the rest of their life together. Who could blame them? I glanced through the now-standing congregation to seek out D.J. He looked up from the sound booth as the band began to play “Puttin’ on the Ritz.” I gave a shy little wave, suddenly very aware of the fact that our wedding was next. Now that Laz and Rosa were truly man and wife, I could focus—at last—on my own big day. And focus I would … just as soon as we made it through the reception.

  Father Michael gave the guests their instructions, letting everyone know they could help themselves to appetizers while photos were taken. I had no time to dally. Not with so much left to do!

  The guests headed to the appetizer table, and Nick, Sophia, Jenna, Bubba, and I flew into high gear, getting the rest of the food ready to be placed on the table.

  Off in the distance, Joey snapped photos of the wedding party, and guests nibbled on tasty hors d’oeuvres. Looked like everything was coming together, right down to the fabulous decor on the tables. Marcella had done a fine job with that. In fact, she’d done a fine job with everything.

  Marcella! For the first time in days, I remembered her news. We were having a baby girl! There were still plenty of surprises ahead for the Rossi clan, no doubt about that. I had to wonder how—and where—Marcella and Nick would spring the good news.

  Hmm. Obviously not tonight. No, we clearly had other things to deal with tonight. Like getting these guests fed and making sure the bridal party was served.

  I’d learned from the master—Rosa—that most true Italian weddings have at least thirteen courses. We’d managed to convince her to trim back a bit and to offer the food buffet style, and she and Laz had done a superb job preparing all of our favorites. As the buffet table was filled, the tantalizing scent of garlic filled the air, getting all of our guests stirred up. I’d never seen so much food in my life or so many happy, hungry souls.

  The guests mingled until photographs were taken, and I gave the buffet table a final sweep with my eyes. First up was the antipasto. The stuffed mushrooms, olives, salami, and prosciutto made my mouth water. Yum! I glanced at the next spot on the buffet table, where a large pot of Italian wedding soup still bubbled. The savory meatballs and rice were topped off with more than adequate amounts of Parmesan cheese. I could almost taste it now.

  Beyond the wedding soup, large bowls of Caesar salad beckoned, the crisp green romaine practically begging to be eaten. I could smell the tangy dressing from here—Rosa’s homemade, of course. Nothing from a bottle for her wedding day! She wouldn’t dream of it.

  After the salad came my favorite part—the bread. I wasn’t sure how or when Jenna and Bubba had done it, but they’d arranged a variety of breads—sliced sourdough, rolls, flaky croissants, and more—on the table in true Italian style. The colorful bread baskets were tipped up on their sides with bread spilling out onto red-checkered cloths. I smiled as I saw dozens of Rosa’s garlic twists on display, the buttery garlic oozing onto the pieces below. Guests were sure to love those. They were the stuff Food Network specials were made of, after all.

  I paused to think about that. Rosa had turned down a weekly show on the Food Network to marry Laz. Not because he’d asked her to, but because she couldn’t picture taking time away from him to pursue the life of a celebrity. How different things might have turned out if Laz had never declared his love. Perhaps Rosa would already be living elsewhere, her weekly television show beamed out to would-be chefs across the country. Instead, she was right here, where she belonged. With her family. Her husband.

  Husband. Oh, what a glorious word! Soon enough, I would have one of my very own, one I’d gladly trade fame and fortune for. Well, fame, anyway. Hopefully, I could still make a profit from the wedding facility. Before long, this place would be overwhelmed with weddings; I could just feel it. After my own wedding, of course. Right now, that was the most important thing—to give myself plenty of undivided time preparing for my own big day!

  My gaze went back to the table, and I took in the bubbling chicken cacciatore, the fettuccini with its creamy Alfredo sauce, and the large platter of cannelloni. After that came the meats—beef, chicken, and fish. Salmon, to be precise—my personal favorite, especially Laz’s version, with basil crust and ratatouille salsa.

  By the time I got to the end of the table, my head was swimming. In a good way. And this didn’t even include the many desserts. I turned my attention to the sweets table, looking at the fresh berries and pastries. I smiled as I took in the little twists of fried dough powdered with sugar. Rosa had called them wandas, explaining that they symbolized good tidings for the bride and groom. They were the perfect complement to the Italian wedding cookies on the next tray and the tiramisu just beyond that. We couldn’t have a party without Rosa’s tiramisu!

  Topping everything off, however, was the wedding candy— my absolute favorite. The yummy sweetness of the candy-covered almonds carried me away to another time, another place. I could almost see myself in Old Italy now. My mouth watered just thinking about it.

  “It’s a shame there’s nothing to eat,” D.J. said, scooting up behind me.

  I turned to face him with a smile. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

  “Um, no.” He grinned, and my heart melted. “Up in Splendora we usually just have a beef brisket after the wedding with some beans and potato salad. Or, if we want to be fancy, one of the ladies will make up some of those little sandwiches on croissants. Maybe a few cold veggies, cut up with ranch dip. But this …” He gestured. “This is really more of a feast. For the eyes and the stomach.”

  “All Italian weddings are like this,” I said. “Some have as many as fourteen courses.”

  “No way.”

  “Yep. And some are even more elaborate, with all sorts of exotic and unusual foods.”

  “I’d say this is pretty elaborate.” He pointed to the coffee bar. “But I have to say, that’s my favorite part. Uncle Laz’s espresso is the best on the island. Can’t wait to get me some of that.” D.J. gave me a wink.

  I reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Soon it will be our turn,” I whispered.

  “We gonna have this much food at our wedding?” he asked.

  “Probably about half this much, which will be about double what we need.” I laughed, and he joined me. Oh, how I loved this boy! How I wanted to stand here all night and talk about our big day!

  Hmm. One glance at the front of the room convinced me I couldn’t do that. Not just yet, anyway. Looked like Joey had finished taking pictures of the wedding party.

  “Time to swing into action?” D.J. asked.

  When I nodded, he moved back over to the sound booth and took the microphone in hand.

&n
bsp; “Folks, could I have your attention, please.”

  The room grew quiet—with the exception of Twila, Bonnie Sue, and Jolene, who still carried on about Rosa’s beautiful wedding dress. Mama finally gave them a nod, and they realized they were the center of attention.

  “Let’s pray over the meal,” D.J. said. He passed off the microphone to Father Michael, who led us in a glorious— albeit long—prayer over the food.

  When the “Amen” sounded, folks made their way to the buffet. All but the wedding party, that is. Bubba and Jenna would serve them at the head table, giving them the choicest food in the house.

  Within minutes, people were eating some of the best Italian food ever cooked. I’d never heard so many compliments in my life. Most of them belonged to Rosa, though Laz had played a hand in the food prep as well. The guests raved over the bread especially. No doubt they would leave full and happy.

  The band members scarfed down the delectable goodies while D.J. and Armando played a few piped-in favorites from the forties. Still, I could see the gleam in Gordy’s eye. He was anxious to get back up on that stage and get this party rolling. Who could blame him? This was going to be a reception no one would soon forget!

  I squeezed through the crowd, approaching the head table where Rosa and Laz sat with their wedding party. I couldn’t wait to tell her how much people loved the food. After gushing over how beautiful the ceremony had been, I raved over her food, which brought the biggest smile to her face.

  “Bless you for saying that, Bella Bambina,” she said, gesturing for me to lean down. When I did, she kissed my cheek.

  “You’re welcome. It’s the truth.” I glanced at the table, horrified to see her water glass empty. I signaled for Bubba, who filled it at once. “Do you need anything else?” I asked. “More food? Drinks? Would you like some punch?”

  Rosa smiled and placed a hand on my arm. “Relax, Bella. All is well. You have done a beautiful job, giving me the wedding of my dreams. Now enjoy the evening. Promise me you’ll try, anyway.”

  I nodded but realized that there was plenty of evening ahead and I needed to stay focused. Why, the bride and groom still had to have their first dance. There was a cake to cut, toasts to make, more photographs to shoot. Who had time to relax?

  After the meal, the fun began. D.J. took the microphone in hand and, with Armando’s help at the soundboard, slipped into deejay gear. For a moment I closed my eyes, just listening to the hypnotic sound of his voice. Had it really been only six months since I’d heard that voice for the first time? Oh, what it had done to me then … and oh, what it was doing to me now!

  I could tell he was taking this gig very seriously. Not that I blamed him. Rosa had kept his stomach full for the last six months. He probably figured the least he could do was to give her the reception she deserved.

  My handsome cowboy introduced Gordy and the band as they took their places up front. Then, at D.J.’s prompting, Rosa and Laz danced their first dance as husband and wife. Their song of choice? “It Had to Be You.” Watching them circle the dance floor, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and all the more when I looked up and saw Father Michael playing the trumpet solo mid-song in perfect duet with Earline on the piano. Talk about harmony!

  Thinking of harmony got me to thinking about Rosa and Laz and how much time they’d wasted quarreling over the years. My thoughts shifted to one of Pop’s favorite sayings: Quel che non ammazza ingrassa. “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Funny. If you’d asked me several months ago, I would’ve said it was more likely my aunt and uncle would have ended up killing each other. Now they would be spending the rest of their lives swing dancing and traveling the continents. Go figure.

  The bride and groom finished their first dance, and Sal hollered out, “Bacio, bacio! We want a kiss!” The guests echoed his words, “Bacio, bacio!” Laz, likely feeling a little heady, tipped Rosa backward and planted a smooch on her lips that would’ve made for a great Hollywood close-up. To Aunt Rosa’s credit, she didn’t even blush. Instead, she tipped Laz back and returned the favor.

  D.J. then announced the money dance. Mama handed Rosa a satin purse, which guests would fill with money as they danced with her. The band played a lively version of “Sing, Sing, Sing” while people—male and female—stood in line for their turn to dance with Rosa.

  “Look at that, Bella,” Mama said, drawing near. “Rosa’s dance card is full tonight.”

  “No kidding.”

  Mama shook her head. “She has always deserved this. Always. It’s such a shame—” She stopped mid-sentence, but I knew what she wanted to say. Rosa had spent most of her life without a dance partner. The lone wallflower in a room filled with roses. But no more! Now she could dance every day if she liked.

  When the money dance ended, D.J. opened the dance floor to all of the guests, and the party really took off. The band began to play, and the guests—many of whom seemed well rehearsed—slipped on their dancing shoes. I’d never seen so many skilled dancers in my life, particularly in this age group.

  I caught a glimpse of Sal eyeing Bonnie Sue, and she eyed him back, though I knew the other ladies were keeping a watch on her. Their words about missionary dating stayed at the front of my mind. Surely Bonnie Sue wouldn’t give her heart to someone who didn’t know the Lord.

  Or maybe she would. When Sal asked her to dance—his invitation being an extended hand—she accepted. Within seconds they were the couple to beat on the dance floor. On and on they went, song after song. They got the crowd so worked up that a dozen or more couples joined them, following their moves. Before long, the whole place was on fire with the swing.

  The music paused, and Gordy introduced the Splendora sisters. I watched as Bonnie Sue caught her breath before heading up to the stage. She gave Sal’s hand a squeeze. “Hang on, honey,” she said with a wink. “Don’t you go anywhere, you hear? I’ve got to sing a couple of songs, but I’ll be back.”

  She followed Twila and Jolene onto the stage, and the music began for “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.” As the words rollicked forth, the audience really came alive. Folks came from out of the woodwork to dance.

  Now me, I’d never danced the swing in my life. Neither had D.J., to my knowledge. But he took the boogie-woogie beat as his cue to try. Taking my hand in his, he headed to the center of the dance floor. The first few steps were awkward, but by the halfway point in the song, we had almost gotten the hang of it. By the time “Eight to the Bar” began, D.J. and I were on a roll, jiving like crazy. Who knew we were born to swing?

  Sal got so excited by my apparent abilities that he cut in. D.J. graciously allowed him to do so, taking a few steps back. Sal then led me on a whirlwind trek around the dance floor. By the time the song ended, my breath was coming faster and harder. Oh, but it was worth it!

  When the song ended, I realized that D.J. had drifted back over to the sound booth. He announced that Rosa and Laz were going to cut the cake. I flew back into wedding-planner gear and was at Rosa’s side in less than twenty seconds. Not bad, considering the fact that I couldn’t breathe.

  As they took their place behind the beautiful wedding cake, I saw a glimmer in Rosa’s eyes. Perhaps she planned to take full advantage of the situation and smear cake all over Laz’s face. Or maybe …

  I watched with relief as she fed him a small piece, taking great care not to mess up his suit. Maybe she was just going to show us how much she cared for him. As Laz took a small piece in hand to feed to Rosa, I had that same quickening. For a moment, he looked as if he might smear the cake all over her face. Instead, he lovingly fed it to her, then reached down to kiss the sweetness away.

  Sal called out, “Evviva gli sposi! Hurray for the newlyweds!” Everyone joined in, and the cheering began. It carried on as Rosa and Laz shared glasses of punch. Then the room grew silent as Sal took the microphone to lead the guests in a toast. With tears in his eyes, he shared the story of how he and Laz had met in Atlantic City. On and on he went, finall
y getting around to the matter at hand—Laz’s marriage to Rosa. With tears in his eyes, Sal blessed the happy couple, lifting his glass and crying, “Salude!”

  After the toast, Gordy and the band began to play the familiar tarantella. Mama’s face lit in a smile. So did Pop’s.

  And Bianca’s. And Bertina’s. In fact, everyone in the place came alive as the lively music rang out across the room, especially Rocco, who gathered us all into a large circle and began the dance.

  We worked in tandem to the beat of the music, moving clockwise at first. Then, as the music sped up, we switched directions. Each time the tempo changed, we moved the opposite direction, moving faster, faster, faster. Finally, when I thought we would collapse, Gordy and the band brought the song to its rightful conclusion.

  I paused to catch my breath, then looked up as Gordy and the band led the crowd in one final number. I don’t know how or when she’d done it, but Rosa had somehow managed to slip a Frank Sinatra song in the mix after all. When the melody for “Strangers in the Night” began to play, Laz turned to his new bride with a suspicious look on his face.

  “Tell me you didn’t!” he said.

  She shrugged, and a penitent look crossed her face. “How could I help myself, Lazarro? When I hear the words, they make me think of you.”

  “Well, in that case …” He swept her into his arms and did a couple of slow turns around the dance floor.

  I marveled at my aunt’s ability to pull this off. She was a wonder woman, no doubt about that. She had won not only Laz’s heart but his musical ear as well.

  Oh, but Laz had the last word. As the couple prepared to say their good-byes, the band lit into a rousing version of Dean Martin’s famed song “That’s Amore.” Rosa stopped cold, then turned to look at her new husband. For a moment there, I wasn’t sure if she planned to take his head off or give him a big smooch. Thankfully, it turned out to be the latter.