He’s in the past.
I glance around looking for Gabriella since I’m not sure how to respond.
Do I tell him Mom is dead?
Do I play along?
I catch her eye. She smiles but then it falters. She excuses herself and comes to join me and Dad.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“He’s waiting for Mom.”
The sadness in her face tells me this isn’t a new thing. “Dad, why don’t you go check on Leo? He’s been asking about that fancy Grappa you have from Italy,” she says of the expensive Italian brandy I brought back last year for Dad.
“Oh? Yes. That would be nice. Maybe I’ll ask Marco and Dominic to join me.”
“That’s a great idea,” she says, rubbing his shoulder.
He leaves to find Leo Ferraza, the fourth Don of La Corona.
“How often is he like that?” I can’t explain why it scares me so much to see him like that. Perhaps because my father has always been strong and wise.
“Nearly a year. Sometimes he’s just a little addled, but other times… it’s like he’s in the past.” She pulls her gaze from our retreating father to look at me. “We need to talk about it, Luca. He really needs you here. Even the other Dons think it’s time for you to come home.”
I like Italy. I’m now fluent in the language. I’m respected. And the business is booming.
But it’s not New York. It’s not home.
The only thing that has kept me from returning is Elena.
I can’t hide any longer from the anger and hurt she causes me. I was raised to one day run the family business. To take a seat at La Carona’s table as a Don.
I nod. “I’ll need to return for a short time to make arrangements in Italy, but I’ve got good men there. Then I’ll move home.”
The relief on Gabriella’s face tells me just how worried she’s been. I feel bad I made her carry so much of the burden.
“I’m so glad. We need you here.”
She’s called over to talk with Isabella Ferraza… or no, she’s married to Roman Ginetti now.
I find one of the servers and ask for a double scotch. I stand in the corner, watching my father head out of the room with Leo, hopefully to go have some Grappa.
Commotion pulls my attention to three kids chasing Roman’s daughter around the Christmas tree.
I smile remembering when Gabriella and I used to play like that, often with Elena when we were that small.
I glance over at Elena and my heart does that stutter thing. She’s so fucking beautiful.
Most women of Italian heritage have dark hair and eyes, but Elena’s hair is more a light brown, like it’s streaked with sunshine, and her eyes are green.
Against her bronze skin, it’s stunning.
I watch as Isabella joins Elena. "They're getting so big," she says, holding a baby in her arms.
"Seems like yesterday they were just learning to walk. Now they’re in kindergarten.”
Kindergarten. Good God, time has flown by.
