We file into dinner. The table is enormous, clearly meant for gatherings like this. I'm seated next to Santino, of course. His mother is across from us. His father, Vincent, is at the head of the table.
And at the other end, in a high-backed chair that looks almost like a throne, sits his grandmother, Nonna.
She's tiny. Probably under five feet. Her hair is pure white, pulled back in a neat bun. She's wearing all black, traditional, and her eyes are sharp. Missing nothing.
She reminds me of my own grandmother.
I like her immediately.
Dinner is served. Multiple courses, traditional Italian, everything perfect. I'm on my best behavior. I eat slowly from my own plate. I use the right fork. I don't talk with my mouth full.
I'm being good.
Too good.
"Liana," Aunt Maria says from down the table. "Santino tells us you attended the Sorbonne?"
"Yes! I studied art history. It was wonderful."
"And what do you do now? Do you work?"
This is a trap. In their world, women don't work. Women manage households.
"I sit on several charity boards," I say carefully. "And I volunteer. The senior center, mostly. I spend time with the elderly residents."
Nonna's eyes sharpen. She's listening now.
"That's very kind of you," Maria says, though she sounds skeptical.
"I love it. Old people are so wise. So full of stories." I look down the table at Nonna. "I bet you have amazing stories, Nonna."
The old woman studies me for a long moment. "Some."
"I'd love to hear them sometime."
"Would you?"
"Absolutely. If you'd be willing to share."
Something shifts in her expression. Not warmth, exactly. But interest.
The dinner continues. I'm charming. I'm engaged. I ask questions. I laugh at jokes. I'm the perfect potential daughter-in-law.
Which means I'm doing something wrong.
After dinner, we move to the sitting room for coffee. This is my chance.
Nonna is seated in a chair by the window, slightly separated from the main group. I take my coffee and walk over to her.
"May I sit with you?"
She gestures to the chair beside her. "If you wish."
I sit, and for a moment we're quiet. Just two women drinking coffee, watching the family mingle.
"You volunteer with the elderly," Nonna says finally.
"I do. Every other Saturday."
