Mario is good, but there’s no way he can handle all the reservations for tonight.
Maybe I can help. Ok, so I’m not exactly Wolfgang Puck, but I can hold my own. That’s it. I’ll just ask Lucy to come in and hostess, and I’ll don an apron and help Mario out.
Just as I’m about to call Lucy, I see my mother walking towards the restaurant. She’s wearing her chef jacket and kitchen clogs. She takes all her frustrations out on the door as she swings it open.
“Does he think I can’t handle the kitchen?” she screams at me. “I taught him how to cook!”
She walks past me and through the swinging doors to the kitchen. Her head is held high and her back is straight. She’s all business and ready to tackle every order of the night.
The phone rings.
“Hello Lorenzo’s, how can I help you?” I say, my eyes still on the kitchen door. I wonder how Mario is taking this one. She’ll probably micromanage him the entire night.
“Is this Stella?” a man’s voice says knocking me back to reality.
“Yes. Who’s this?” I look at the caller ID but the information is blocked.
I wait for a minute.
“Hello?” I’m getting ready to hang up.
“It’s Roberto. Lancetti.”
Ugh. This is so not what I need right now. I wait for him to say more.
“I heard about Lorenzo and I was wondering if you guys needed some help. I’m not doing anything tonight.”
How the hell did he hear about Lorenzo? I swear this town taps its phone lines or something.
“We’ll be all right,” I say and twirl the phone wire around my finger. For a second, I think of telling him to come on by. He can cover the front for a few hours while I smooth things over with my brother. Plus, if we add a third party to the mix my mother will be less likely to explode. But just as quickly as the thought enters my head, I push it away. The last thing I need right now is his pity.
“Ok, well if you need anything, just give me a call.”
When I hang up, I can’t help but think how kind he is. I mean honestly, Drew would have never offered to roll up his sleeves and pitch in. Still, I’m fairly certain that Mrs. Lancetti has something to do with this. After the whole fiasco with the flowers, I can’t really trust her or my mother.
The waiters file in, one by one. Dante comes in last, buttoning his shirt as he walks into the dining room. “How’s Mom?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
I follow him in the kitchen and we see my brother Mario looking like a seven-year-old who’s been scolded. She must have unleashed her fury on him. Thank God for soundproof doors.
My mother methodically slices tomatoes for bruschetta. She and Lorenzo are exactly the same.
“How are you doing?” I ask her.
“I am fine. Can you give me the breakdown of the night?” she snaps. Is she mad at me or something? What the hell did I do? Besides try to hold this damn family together.
By 6:00, I can already tell that the kitchen is slower than normal. I glance around the restaurant and see tables that have been here an hour only just eating salads. That’s not good. If it stays like this I’ll have crowds of angry people at the front door by 7:00, complaining about the wait time on their reservation. And to be honest, I can’t handle that. Not tonight.
The phone rings. I reach for it, hoping it’s Roberto offering to help again.
“Hello Lorenzo’s.”
“Stella, honey, it’s Dad.” He sounds tired.
“Hi Dad. How are you?”
“I’m doing good. I talked to Lorenzo.”
I sigh happily. My dad cannot stand fighting with his sons. Since Mario won’t let up, my dad was forced to make peace with Lorenzo.
“He’ll be coming there in a few minutes. He just left now.”
“Really?” I’m delighted.
“Yeah, just make sure your mother doesn’t kill him until all the orders are served.”
Like clockwork, my brother arrives a few minutes later. He comes in the front door and sees the crowd of diners eating slowly.
“Thank you,” I say to him.
He smiles at me and I know that my dad patched things up. Lorenzo walks into the kitchen and I can’t help but follow him. I need to see my mom’s face.
She doesn’t look up as Lorenzo takes a spot next to her. My mom is normally hard to please, and she’s so mad at him that Lorenzo’s peace offering is not going to be enough.
He reaches for a ticket and scans the burners. When he sees that it’s already been started, he reaches for a different ticket and starts the order.
No one says a word, and I wonder if they’ll ignore each other all night.
I return to the hostess desk to see a line of people. I smile at the man in front of me.
“We have a reservation for Johnson,” he says leaning over my reservation book. He points to his name, as if I am illiterate.
Doesn’t he know that I have a degree in English? I’m almost a teacher for God’s sake.
“Ok sir, it’s just going to be a few minutes for your table.”
“How much is a few. It’s already 6:35.”
I peak around the corner and it looks like we’re backed up about fifteen minutes. I know that is way too much for this man, but I really don’t feel like flirting. I take a deep breath, reach out my hand and lightly brush his and say, “About five more minutes. Maybe ten maximum.”
His wife looks at me as if I’m trying to steal her husband.
“Did you just touch my husband’s hand?” she asks coldly.
“No, no, why would I do that?” I stumble for words. “I was swatting away a fly.”
She looks unsatisfied.
I give her a huge smile. “I love your…” I look at her and try to find something to compliment. “Bag,” I say with a grin. She’s carrying a faded black carryall, more suitable for a workday than a dinner out with friends.
She huffs as he turns to his friends. “Let’s go wait outside, it’s too crowded in here.” The six of them move out the door. Her husband turns back to look at me and gives me a wink.
Oh God. I’m never flirting with an old man again.
Once they’re seated, I greet the next couple in line and lead them to a table right next to the dessert case.
“These look amazing,” the girl coos and I realize she’s talking about the cakes.
“Thanks,” I mumble and start to turn away. I glance at the cakes and I have to admit, they do look pretty incredible. Not to brag or anything, but I’ve gotten really good at the whole baking thing. It’s like the worse things are in my life, the better focused on baking I am. It’s Food Therapy without the calories (although, I do splurge on a piece of cake every night, but that’s for quality control).
“Where do you buy them?” she asks.
I smile, proud of myself. “I make them actually.”
“Oh wow,” the girl says. “I can’t wait to try a piece. What’s your favorite?”
I think for a minute and then tell her about the Money Cake, pointing at it for emphasis. Then I smile at her and make my way back to the crowd at the hostess stand.
When they finish their meal the woman approaches me.
“That cake was amazing,” she squeals with a big smile on her face, thanks to my cake and Food Therapy. “Can I order a whole one for next
week?”
By10:30 the dining room has slowed down, and when I look at the reservation book, I’m amazed at how many people we’ve served. I go into the kitchen, to see my mother waving tongs at Lorenzo.
“No matter what you’re still my son,” I hear her yell.
“We’re dealing with it. You don’t control my life, Mom,” he shouts back.
“You made that clear this morning.”
“Mom, seriously, what else do you want him to do? What’s done is done,” Mario pipes in.
“You should talk, Mario. You’re crucifying your father for the decision to sell the restaurant. N
ow he wants to back out of it. But if we do, we’ll lose a lot of money.”
“He does?” Mario asks.
“Yes, because he can’t stand you being mad at him.” She’s flailing the tongs around like a crazy woman. I can only imagine what the Russians think. “But I told your father today that we’re selling the restaurant no matter what. I’m going to be a grandmother.” She turns towards Lorenzo. “Who else can help you babysit that baby?”
He throws his arms around her and I can see her start to cry. “I’m still mad at you,” she says. “But it’s not the baby’s fault. And Lucy is going to need help, poor girl. She doesn’t have a mother of her own.”
“Thanks Mom,” Lorenzo sighs.
“And you,” my mom points to Mario. “I’m tired of your bullshit. Go make up with your father.”
Slowly, Mario takes off his apron and walks out the door.
***
When we lock up the doors to the restaurant at night, my mother links her arm through mine. “I still can’t believe Lorenzo and Lucy,” she says shaking her head. “I’m really disappointed in them.”
I loop my arm around her back. “Thanks for making peace, Mom.”
“He’s my son. What else can I do? And that poor girl. I’m her only hope.”
I widen my eyes. “Well she has a great best friend.”
“A sister,” my mom corrects me.
I like the ring to it. I always felt that Lucy was my sister anyway, but now, in one week, she really will be.
“Let’s throw her a bridal shower,” I say without thinking.
My mom looks at me as if I’m nuts. “I don’t think your father would want any of our friends to know about this, until after they’re married.”
“I’m not talking about inviting other people. I’m just talking about Lucy, us, and Gina. We can have a little lunch and maybe buy her a few things. We can even do it tomorrow, so Gina’s still here.”
My mom thinks for a minute. “That would be nice. She needs to relax. She’s had a rough day.”
As we walk the rest of the way, we plan to take her to Cindy’s for brunch. I want to make her some zuccherini cookies, because no Italian bride can get married without them.
The next morning I wake up early to get started on those cookies. The pillow-like confections topped with fluffy coconut flakes are the perfect cookies for a bridal shower, even if there are only four women attending. When we got home last night, we informed Gina of the plans. She got the idea to bring her laptop so Lucy can look at Saks online to choose a few gifts for us to buy her. “It’ll be like she’s registering,” Gina said. Her face lights up at the thought of anyone going through the wedding planning process, even a rushed one.
I’m excited to get started and I reach for my phone to text Lucy. Before we plan all of this stuff for her, we may as well make sure she’s free this afternoon. I shoot her a text.
Me: Are you free at 1 today?
Luce: Sure what do you want to do?
Me: Meet me at Cindy’s, we’ll do brunch.
Luce: Ok. See you at one.
I still can’t believe we pulled all this together in one morning. As I was baking the cookies, Gina and my mother went to order the flowers. Then they both went off shore to buy a small gift bag full of home stuff that you’d normally give a bride. When they called to say that they found the cutest kitchen towels and matching mugs, I almost squealed with delight.
I rush to meet Lucy at our restaurant. My mom and Gina will be going right to Cindy’s and should be there when we arrive. Lucy is going to be so surprised when she sees my mom and Gina sitting there. But here we are, the DiLucio girls—for better or for worse.
I sit in front of the restaurant and catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection from the window. My hair is pulled into a high bun, and my turquoise dress is neatly pressed, but I look like I’m faking something. As I look at my façade I start to wonder what I’m really made of.
Who is Stella DiLucio?
Sometimes, I’m not quite sure.
“Hey Stella!” Lucy waves as she walks towards me. “You look so cute!”
I look up at her and see that she’s also dressed up. She’s wearing a pale yellow tea-length skirt and white tank top. She still wears the Tiffany’s necklace that I gave her, and her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders. “You look great too.”
“Thanks, we had to meet with Fr. Jim before Mass this morning. We had the last of our PreCana sessions today. This was the only thing that didn’t make me look like a cow.”
She can’t be serious. Lucy is the skinniest pregnant girl I’ve ever seen.
“How were they?” I say changing the subject.
“What?”
“The PreCana classes?”
“Oh. They weren’t that bad. We thought it would be weird since Fr. Jim knows I’m pregnant, but he’s been really cool about the whole thing.”
I smile. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, I can’t wait for a short stack.”
“Get the large one, you’re eating for two,” I laugh.
She laughs. As we cross the street a tiny flash catches my eye.
“Is there something you want to show me?”
“Oh my God, yes,” she squeals and holds up her left hand. My brother has given her a beautiful diamond solitaire ring. I take her hand and inspect it.
“Stunning,” I say. “Did you pick this?”
She laughs. “No, Lorenzo did a good job. I wasn’t expecting a ring at all actually.”
For some reason, the ring reminds me of Drew and for a minute, I think I might cry. I take a deep breath. “I’m so excited for you.” I smile and open the door to Cindy’s.
Cindy greets us as we enter the restaurant. “Your table is all set girls,” she says giving me a thumbs up. I smile at her.
Lucy walks ahead of me and stops when she sees my mom and Gina at our table. She looks at the balloons, the flowers, the cookies, and the giant gift bag and starts to cry.
“Surprise,” Gina and my mom say.
“You guys are amazing.”
She’s right though. It is amazing that my mother could change so quickly, but that’s the way my family is. We stick together no matter what, and now Lucy is a part of that.
My mother stands and gives Lucy a hug, which makes her cry even harder.
“Lucia, I am happy to have you as my daughter. You always were anyway.”
“Thanks,” Lucy says and wipes her eyes.
“Welcome to your bridal shower.” I take a seat next to her.
“Thanks guys, you really didn’t have to do this.”
“Yes we did, you’re the bride,” Gina squeals.
The waitress approaches our table and we all order pancakes. My mom and I get blueberry, Gina gets chocolate chip, and Lucy orders hers plain.
“I hope I can keep these down,” she says when the waitress leaves. She’s already looking a little green.
“Try drinking a glass of whole milk,” my mom says. “It really helped me when I was pregnant.”
“Did you get morning sickness?” Lucy asks.
“Ha, I had it so bad with the twins. They started giving me agita their first week of life.” My mom looks at me. “And twenty-seven years later, they haven’t stopped.” She sticks out her tongue.
“Hey,” I say. “I am an angel compared to Lorenzo.”
Lucy laughs because she’s seen me at my worst.
The waitress passes by and Lucy orders a glass of whole milk.
We must look funny celebrating a bridal shower on the back deck of Cindy’s instead of in some mansion like we did for Gina, but the truth is, I like this much better. My mother is relaxed and making jokes, Gina looks like she’s having fun, and Lucy is so overwhelmed with our surprise that she flips between laughing and crying. We all laugh at her.
“With all those hormones you’d better watch out. You might be having twins,” my mom warns.
“Can you imagine?” Lucy says dreami
ly. She looks off in the distance and I see her face get sad. I wonder if she’s thinking about her mother.
“Open your present!” I order and thrust the bag in front of her.
Lucy smiles and pulls the tissue paper out of the pink gift bag. She removes canary yellow dishtowels with an embroidered D stitched in blue on them. “Oh,” she coos. “They’re so cute. I love yellow.” She laughs.
“We know you better than you think,” my mom says and pats her on the shoulder.
Lucy takes out two sunny porcelain mugs and smiles. “Prefect for our morning coffee,” she says. “Thanks guys.”
“There’s one more thing,” Gina says reaching into her bag. She takes out her laptop and starts typing, then flips the screen towards Lucy. “You need to select something wonderful from Saks.”
“No, I can’t,” Lucy says, embarrassed.
“Please, do you know what kind of a discount I get?” Gina insists. “Now pick something nice, a stunner.”
We watch as Lucy scrolls through the items on the screen. She clicks on a few images to make them bigger, and then finally decides on an extra fluffy feather bed. “I’ve always wanted one,” she beams.
“It’ll be yours by next week,” Gina says. “From me and Pietro.”
Lucy gives her a hug. “Thank you.”
“Ok, one more thing.” My mother pulls an envelope from her purse and hands it to Lucy.
I had no idea she was planning something else. Am I the only one who didn’t get Lucy something special?
Lucy opens the card and reads the message that my parents have written her. She starts to cry and dabs her eyes with a napkin. “Thanks, Mom.”
“We’ll go shopping for it after the wedding.”
“For what?” I ask.
“A washer and dryer,” Lucy says. “So we don’t have to go down to the basement of Lorenzo’s building.”
An awkward moment passes, where we’re all realizing that this is really happening. Lucy and Lorenzo are getting married.
The Queen of Minor Disasters Page 16