The Queen of Minor Disasters

by Antonietta Mariottini

  Within three minutes, I’m out the door, sticky buns and cappuccino in hand, Roberto’s flowers tucked nicely under my arm. I cross the street to the bookstore to grab a magazine, because, for the first time in weeks, I feel good.

  No, I feel great.

  Once I get all my goodies, I walk to the only place I can think of to have some peace and quiet on this Thursday morning. Lorenzo’s.

  I drop my stuff on the bench outside while I unlock the door. The cool air hits me in the face, and I realize I forgot to shut off the air conditioner last night. I walk across the restaurant and into the waiters’ station to turn it off, then walk back to the front door and lock it. I unhook the phone and set up a little corner table all to myself.

  Some people need spas, others fancy massages, but for me, the ultimate relaxation is a good cup of coffee and a few magazines. I place both sticky buns on a bread plate and grab myself a fork and knife to eat them with, that way I won’t get the magazines dirty. I flip to the first page and take a big bite of the walnut bun. It’s just as good as I imagined.

  After a few minutes I come across an article on style tips for a first date. The page shows pictures of Drew Barrymore, Lindsay Lohan, and Penelope Cruz, all prepped for their big dates. Of the three, I lean towards Penelope’s look, and start to imagine the exact dress I’ll wear for my date with Roberto.

  It’s strange, planning a dress for a first date with a guy that I grew up with. I mean, he was there when I vomited all over myself at his dad’s birthday party. Granted, I was only five and had a bad virus, but still, it was embarrassing, and I’m sure he remembers. Of course, I’ve seen him in his pudgy years, and I still agreed to the date. I smile. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.

  “What are you going to wear?” Gina asks the burning question once I tell her about the date.

  “I’m not sure, probably a black dress…” I’m standing in the kitchen watching as she and my mother drink their morning coffee. It’s eleven and they’ve only now gotten up.

  “Black?” my mom interrupts. “You’re going on a date, not to a funeral.”

  “Black is very classic,” I say.

  “Your mom is right. Black is a no go for a date,” Gina adds. “Unless you’re already an established couple.”

  I roll my eyes. Just because she works at Saks doesn’t make her Rachel Zoë for God’s sake.

  “I’m staying with black.” I sit at the table next to them.

  They both look at me horrified. “Stella, you should wear red. Red is a mysterious color,” Gina suggests.

  “How mysterious can I be? He probably remembers me in diapers.”

  My mom laughs.

  “What about blue? You look amazing in blue,” Gina says. I shake my head.

  “White,” my mom says. “You’ll wear white.” The way she says it, it seems like she’s already planning our wedding.

  “Mom for God’s sake, it’s a first date.”

  “White will look beautiful with your tan. I saw a gorgeous BCBG dress the other day. White satin strapless. We have it at Saks.” Gina takes a sip of her coffee. Now even she’s styling me in a wedding dress.

  “I think white is too suggestive for a first date.”

  “Suggestive meaning what?” my mom asks, looking at me sternly.

  “Meaning it looks too much like a wedding dress.”

  “Well is marriage the worst thing in the world?’ my mom asks.

  “Oh my God. It’s a first date,” I retort, although I spent most of the morning envisioning myself walking down the aisle with Roberto.

  Recipe: Birthday Sticky Buns

  Yields 1 serving

  1) Decide that you are not cooking on your birthday.

  2) Go to your favorite bakery.

  3) Select sticky bun.

  4) Devour, it’s your birthday after all.

  Chapter 19

  Thankfully, we’re fully staffed tonight. Both Brittany and Michelle came back from college for Labor Day weekend to make some extra cash, so I’m back to managing. I take extra time to get dressed for work because you never know if Roberto will stop in.

  It is my birthday, after all.

  I can imagine it already. Roberto will walk through the front doors holding a big bouquet of roses (from Dots and Bows, not Quick Mart). I’ll be at the hostess stand, juggling a million things like I always do, but as soon as I see him the world will stop. Slowly, he’ll walk towards me and hand me the bouquet. Before I can even say “thank you” he’ll cup my face in his hands and give me a kiss. At this point, the entire restaurant will be watching; service will have stopped for a minute, as everybody awaits what’s coming next. Then, without saying a word, Roberto will drop down to one knee and take my hand. He’ll look up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes and say…

  Ok, maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself. But he did say he wants to settle down, and remember, he does think I’m amazing.

  I decide on a red strapless A-line dress, with a full shirt. I pair it with brown open toe heels and wear my hair down. Gina has given me full permission of her Bobbi Brown case, so I’m all dolled up and ready for the night. I’m feeling so good that I wouldn’t even mind going to the Beachcomber tonight.

  “Wow, hot stuff,” Gina says when I walk down the steps. I laugh, but inside I really do feel hot.

  “You look beautiful Stella,” my mom says. Then she looks me up and down and adds, “too elegant to go to work though.”

  Maybe she’s right. Maybe I did overdo it a little, but hey, it’s my birthday and Labor Day weekend. As far as I’m concerned, anything goes.

  I change into flip-flops before heading out the door, carrying my heels in my hand. “I’ll see you tonight,” I say waving from behind the door.

  I walk on the street hoping to see Roberto, but the only person I pass is Fr. Jim, walking his Golden Lab in front of the church. “Hello Stella,” he says with a smile. “Off to work?”

  “Yep,” I reply picking up my pace. “Don’t want to be late.” The last thing I need is that dog drooling on my dress.

  As I unlock the door my phone starts to ring. Of course, I’m carrying the biggest bag in the world and I can’t find my phone. I sift through the various lip glosses, used tissues, and old receipts littering the bottom of my bag, until I finally grab my phone. I answer it without looking at the caller ID.

  “Hi Stella. Happy Birthday.”

  The voice stops me dead in my tracks. I don’t believe it.

  “Hi Drew.”

  “How’s it going?” he asks casually, as if he didn’t completely crush me. As if he’s not engaged to Trisha Motley.

  “What do you want?” I snap.

  “I just wanted to talk.” He pauses. “I miss you. I made a mistake.”

  There they are, the words I waited months to hear. I’ve imagined this moment so many times. Replayed it over and over in my mind. Fantasized about it, believed in it. But now, it’s all wrong. I don’t care about Drew anymore. And I don’t care what he has to say. In one swift motion I flip my phone shut. It’s over. It’s been over. There’s no need to open that door ever again.

  I turn off my phone and drop it in my bag.

  “Stell, I need help on table four,” Brittany says halfway through the night. It’s 8:30 and we have reservations coming in until 11:00. I look over at the table and see six women laughing.

  “What’s going on?”

  “They’re not happy with me,” she says looking down.

  “They just sat,” I say.

  “I know, but they saw Dante and they want him.”

  “So just switch, what’s the big deal?”

  “I don’t know, they said they wanted to talk to the manager about it.”

  I raise my eyebrow and walk towards the table.

  They’re still laughing when I arrive, and I can see that five of them look to be in their fifties. The younger girl looks about my age, though I’m always bad at judging these things. None of them look fa
miliar, but like always, on holiday weekend, the place gets full of strangers. The ladies have brought three bottles of red and two bottles of white. If they drink all that wine, I’m sure I’ll be calling a taxi for them. “Hello, I’m the manager,” I say loudly.

  “Look at you, Ms. Thang,” one woman squeals and they all laugh. I get the feeling they’ve been to happy hour before coming in for dinner.

  “Can I help you with something?” I ask, trying to remain calm, though I’m slightly annoyed.

  “I love your dress,” a woman with long brown hair and a spectacular tan says to me. The dress would actually look great on her.

  “Thanks, it’s Marc Jacobs.”

  Did they need something? Or did they just want to talk fashion?

  “You have lovely taste,” she replies. She takes a sip of wine and continues. “This is my daughter, Caitlin,” she says gesturing to the younger girl sitting at the table. Now that she mentioned it, I can certainly see the resemblance between them. Both of them have shiny hair and golden tans, though Caitlin looks fairer skinned than her mother. I smile.

  “My daughter has impeccable taste as well,” she continues. “And she knows what she wants.”

  Well good for her.

  The other ladies laugh and I can see Caitlin’s face get as red as my dress.

  “That’s great,” I say. At this point, I’m finished with this table. They’re just drunk and slightly obnoxious. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact. We’d like him to be our waiter,” the mother says pointing to Dante as he walks by.

  “No problem, I already switched him to your table.”

  “What’re his stats?” the lady asks me.

  Stats? I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I look at her blankly.

  “Is he taken?”

  I almost laugh. “No, no, he’s not.”

  The lady looks me up and down and before she can say another word I continue. “He’s my brother, Dante.”

  The ladies giggle a bit and the ringleader looks relaxed. Poor Caitlin is mortified and I can feel her pain.

  “Do you think he’d like my daughter?” the mother asks me.

  I glance at Caitlin, who as far as I can tell, is actually interested. “Of course he would, he’s not blind.”

  The ladies giggle like teenagers. “Well send him over,” the mother says. “And let’s get this party started.”

  I smile tightly and turn away from the table. Thank God my mother is not that embarrassing.

  “Good luck,” I whisper to Dante as he approaches the table. Thankfully, he’s a good sport about it, and as I watch him flirt with the table, I see that he’s actually really good at it. Dante is by far the most quiet out of us, and I never would have thought he’d be able to play into them that much.

  “What’s up with that?” Lucy asks at the hostess stand.

  “I have no idea,” I say with a laugh. “People are so weird.”

  At about 9:30, my parents, Pietro, and Gina come in. My mom is carrying a huge cake decorated with “Auguri Lorenzo and Stella” piped on it. Gina is holding a signature bouquet from Dots and Bows. “Your table’s right this way,” I say very professionally. My dad hangs back as I walk, and while the others sit, he grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I heard about your date with Roberto,” he whispers. “Good choice.”

  I smile and squeeze his hand again. I wonder if the Lancettis have called my parents to start arranging the wedding yet. If not, I’m sure they will while we’re on our date.

  My parents finish up their dinner at 11:45, and my mom disappears into the kitchen to get the cake. The last thing in the world I feel like doing is having birthday cake, but I don’t want to make her feel bad for making it. The restaurant is almost empty except for a few campers who are sipping wine and lingering over chocolate soufflé, so my mom gathers all of the servers, bussers, and dishwashers around to sing to me.

  I sit there watching my entire family and suddenly, the night doesn’t seem so bad. I blow out my candles and wish for…

  Well, I’m not telling you that. Everyone knows you have to keep your wishes secret if you want them to come true.

  My mom moves to re-light the candles for Lorenzo but he stops her.

  “I already have everything I could possibly wish for,” he says grabbing Lucy’s hand.

  How lovely.

  As soon as we finish the cake everyone gets up to leave. In the restaurant business the owners can never sit for too long. Before I can start clearing off the table, my dad pulls me aside.

  “I have something for you,” my dad says and reaches into his pocket. “I didn’t have the chance to give it to you this morning,” he says holding out a mini manila envelope. My name is written on the front but I don’t recognize the handwriting. I look at him.

  “Open it,” he urges.

  I flip open the flap and peek into the envelope. I pull out a thin gold chain with a small cross dangling from it. It looks so familiar, but I can’t figure out where I’ve seen it before.

  “It’s from Grandmom,” he says and instantly. Her smiling face flashes before my eyes. I turn the envelope over and see that it’s her handwriting on the front.

  “I had it cleaned,” my dad says. “She wanted you to have this when you turned thirty, but I figured you could use it now.”

  I reach up and clasp the necklace around my neck. It falls midway to my chest and looks so delicate against my skin.

  “She got that necklace right before she came over to America and wore it every day of her life. It was precious to her, and I’m sure it will be to you too.”

  Tears start welling up in my eyes as I think of my grandmom. “Thanks,” I say, more to her than to him.

  “She’d be so proud of you Stella. You’re exactly like her.”

  For the first time, I believe him. I am like my grandmother. Full of sass and ready to take on the world.

  Less than an hour later, I collect everyone’s checkouts and take the money into the office, where I can calculate the tips. As soon as I plop down in my chair, my foot hits my purse. I pick it up and shuffle through it, looking for my phone. When I turn it on there are seven full text messages from Drew. I delete all of them because that’s exactly what my grandmom would do. She would never let a man treat her the way Drew treated me.

  The next morning, I feel like a new woman. It’s like as soon as I realized Drew was all wrong for me, the world sent me all kinds of possibilities. Namely, a new life with Roberto.

  Instead of going for my usual run, I fix myself a steaming hot mug of coffee and enjoy the first rays of sunlight, creeping across the sky.

  Recipe: Breakfast for a New Woman

  Yields 1 serving

  Sometimes Food Therapy really does work. Like today, for example, when I drank this steaming hot mug of espresso. It made me feel like a new woman, even though I drink it every morning.

  But still, don’t we become someone new every day?

  1 shot of espresso

  8 oz. of steaming hot whole milk

  1) Combine the two together and drink.

  2) Go outside and sit by the bay.

  3) Contemplate your life and realize that, yes, it is wonderful.

  4) Daydream about your wedding (obviously, Roberto and I will date first, but I have a feeling we’re in for a whirlwind romance).

  Chapter 20

  I’ve never been so excited for anything in my entire life.

  Ok, maybe that’s an overstatement, but still you get the idea.

  On Labor Day morning, I skip my run and sleep in, knowing that the extra hours of rest will show up on my face later. I haven’t seen Roberto since he asked me out, and I want to look my best to impress him tonight. I didn’t even partake in the end of the season party my brothers threw after work last night. Typically they drink in the restaurant until about 4:00 a.m., and I was in no mood to stay there that late, so Lucy and I left the party at around 1:00.

  Now
that summer is officially over, even the weather seems different. I feel the cool bay breeze as I get out of bed and the overcast sky tells me it’s going to rain. This might change my outfit slightly, as I’ve never been able to sacrifice warmth for fashion.

  Honestly, I don’t know how those models do it. I’ve heard they shoot bathing suit catalogues on the beach in January.

  I would die.

  But when I open my closet and see the dress hanging there, I figure I’ll have to just bear it. The dress is too gorgeous to change plans this late in the game.

  As a birthday gift, Gina and my mom drove to Atlantic City and bought me an amazing cream-colored Betsy Johnson dress. Even though it’s a little too white, when I tried it on, I knew this was the dress to wear on my date with Roberto. It’s brushed silk with a sweetheart neckline and full tulip skirt. Paired with some nude heels and a gold clutch, this is the most amazing first date outfit ever. Plus my necklace really stands out.

  Honestly, Gina should be a personal shopper; she nailed this one without even knowing how important it is.

  ***

  By 6:15, my entire family is gone. I’m not sure why everyone is so concerned about beating the Labor Day traffic, but I guess it makes sense.

  La Cucina reopens tomorrow at 11:00 a.m., and even Mario is excited to get back there. September is going to be a crazy month for the restaurant and he wants to get a head start. He and Lorenzo are going to use the last month to promote their new restaurant Fratelli’s. If all goes as planned, they’ll open in January, two months before the baby is born.