It’s time to start acting like a Don.
LUCA - ELEVEN MONTHS LATER
I tug my coat tighter around me as I trot down the steps to the waiting car to take me to Dominic Vitale’s home.
It’s cold as fuck today, making me miss Italy, which cooled off in winter but was mild compared to this arctic air.
Has it really been almost a year since I made the decision to come home to New York?
I wonder as I slide into the back seat.
The last eleven months have been a blur.
Right after Christmas last year, I returned to Italy to secure the right people to manage the vineyards, finalize distribution contracts, and explain to our Italian partners why I wouldn't be the face of the Monti business anymore.
By the beginning of April, I was back in New York, and it’s been a culture shock speaking in English most of the time again.
My tongue still trips sometimes, Italian phrases slipping out when I'm tired or angry.
The other day, I cursed out a supplier in Italian for ten minutes before realizing he couldn't understand a word.
The most challenging part has been diving into the deep end of the New York business.
Coming back meant stepping into shoes I hadn’t planned to fill this soon.
My father's condition is progressing slowly, but progressing.
He waits for my deceased mom to return from outings. He forgets the names of people he’s known for decades.
At the La Corona Easter event, he called one of Elena’s children Luca, as if he thought the boy was me.
It was like the last twenty-five years never happened.
Not everything's been darkness.
Gabriella's wedding to Marco Calabresi brought a day of joy. Father had a good day.
He was clear-eyed, present, proud.
And then holding my niece, Sabina, named after my mother, three months ago made all the bullshit fade away for a moment.
Gabriella looked radiant, and I’d never seen Marco show a tear until that day.
The only sad moment was that our mother wasn’t there to meet her granddaughter.
The other positive in having life come at me fast and furious is that I haven’t had time to ruminate over Elena and her infuriating attitude toward me.
Only late at night when I can’t sleep do I work to piece together what happened to Elena's father.
The evidence that sent him to prison was a slam dunk.
Maybe too perfect.
But if someone had set him up, it wasn’t me.
I’d tried to help him, not that it matters to her. She’s shut me out for good.
What burns most is that her cousin Dominic gives her what I couldn’t.
