Ned and Fabio barely acknowledged him, both turned toward each other, conversing.
“It’s OK, George. I get it. No worries. I’ll wait for you.”
Mikey’s hand was resting on the table and George put his on it. “Soon. I promise.”
Chapter 14
George was in the kitchen for no more than twenty minutes when he heard something out front that surprised him. He shouldn’t have been surprised—from what he knew it made perfect sense—he just wasn’t expecting it. The sound reached out for him like a large invisible hand, pulling him away from Zac and the dishes in the sink toward the door.
It was singing.
He was seduced, drifting out of the kitchen languidly, still wearing an apron and towel-drying a plate. The room had emptied, for the most part, the only people left were Jack and Demarco’s party in the back and Ned and Fabio’s table closer. But Mikey wasn’t with them now. He was standing in the corner with Gianni singingO Sole Mio,the rich and reedy tone of the accordion a perfect accompaniment to Mikey’s strong, yet tender, vocal.
Everyone in the restaurant had eyes on Mikey, also captured by his spell. But the pull for George was strongest of all... as if the ghosts of Mediterranean ancestors were escorting him in a dream, pointing bony, translucent fingers at the singing man and sayingthis—this is what matters. Forget everything else and listen to this heart sing.
He knew nothing of opera, only a peripheral appreciation—recognition of thegreatest hits, so to speak. But there had been a few times in his life when he had felt the profound presence of grace—graduating, meeting David, sailing the Aegean... If he had to describe it from a culinary perspective, it was like reducing a liquid to its perfect essence—too little was weak, and too much was overpowering. But find that balance and it was nothing short of sublime.
Mikey’s voice with Gianni’s accordionwasthat balance.
The music was now ascending, as were Mikey’s notes, lifting with the subtle power of Pavarotti. Only Mikey was much more handsome than the famed tenor—a beauty that George had never fully weighed. He was a large man, thick and beefy, but he carried himself with the grace of a dancer, strong and nimble. His bearded, cherub face could go either way—childlike and innocent, or mischievous and wise. But ever-present and undeniable was a sweetness that George was fast growing attached to.
Mikey closed the song with the equivalent of a musical exclamation point as Gianni held the last note.
Demarco was first on his feet. “Bravo! Bravo, Mikey!” he shouted.
Others stood too, applauding—except for Fabio and Ned, who politely clapped and resumed their conversation as if the performance had been a minor deterrent—but Mikey didn’t notice any of the response. Instead, he turned around, zealously embracing Gianni, kissing him on both cheeks.
George set the plate and towel on the bar, removing his apron as well. He went over to them.
“Mikey, that was...moving.”
“Thanks, George. I’ve known it since I was a kid, but I’ve never sung it solo with an instrument—only with my nonna’s records. It’s just one of those songs that has always been in my life. When Gianni started playing it, I couldn’t resist. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Not at all. If I had entertainment like that regularly, the place would be packed.”
“I’ll be here whenever you want me to, George.” He winked. “No charge.”
“Bravissimo,” said Demarco. He and Jack had come up behind George. “Mikey, I knew you could sing Broadway and Bonnie Tyler, but I never knew you had that in you. So romantic. I’m... I... I just don’t know what to say.”
Jack laughed. “That’s an accomplishment in itself, Mikey. D, at a loss for words—never.”
“Oh, you shush. We’re going to leave you gentlemen to it. So, glad we were here for that though.Unreal.”
Mikey blushed, and George put his arm around him. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do.
The men snagged their coats from the hall tree by the door where their family was already waiting. George saw that Rachel was lingering. She and May were swapping business cards.
Score, he thought.
“Thank you for the wonderful meal and entertainment,” Abigail said from across the room. She was holding Tommy’s hand, his eyelids heavy. “We need to get these children in bed, though. It’s a school night.”
“Thanks again for coming. Your family is welcome here any time.”
“We’ll take you up on that,” said Demarco.
They all went out the door, and Rachel quickly following with a wave. “Thanks, George. Call me. We’ll get a promo going. I Promise.”
“Will do, Rachel. Goodnight.”
