“What is it, Pop?” Jake asked, suddenly nervous, and searching his father’s face for the truth. “Are you feeling all right? I can stay, you know—I’m sure Vivien would go and get—”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, for Pete’s sake—Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I’m not made out of glass, Elwood.”
“What is it, then?” Jake asked.
Pop glanced at Vivien, who was prudently waiting just out of earshot at the edge of the curtain, then he said in a low voice, “You take your time, sonny, all right? It’ll be hours before they get me settled and get all the testing done and let me eat—I know how these prisons work—and so you just take your time at the restaurant. I picked a really nice one—God knows you can afford it. Wine and dine her a little—I’ll still be here when you get back. No need to rush.”
Jake straightened up and looked at his father askance. “Pop, what the—”
“She’s the one, isn’t she? The girl in New York? From way back? I didn’t put it together right away—and you didn’tbotherto tell me, you blithering idiot—but then I remembered her.”
Pop shook his head like he didn’t knowwhatto think of his son—like he’d just been arrested for murder—and continued, “You can thank me later for setting this up, anddon’tmess things up this time, Genius, all right? And you bring me the best damned osso bucco in Grand Rapids as a thank you—and make sure they put polenta with it, not potatoes, not tonight—and some cannoli, yes three cannoli—one pistachio, two chocolate, you got that? You do that, or I’ll run off with her myself. And youknowwe DeRiccios are irresistible to women.”
Jake barely managed to control a smile. “Well, Vivien did tell me she thought you were adorable. So I guess I’d—”
“She did?” Pop actually shot up from his half-reclined position in the hospital bed. “She said that?” His cheeks pinked a little beneath the bee stings.
“Yep. And since I’m a good guy, I promise not to smother you—my rival—in your hospital bed, and instead I’ll go off and wine and dine her while you get poked and prodded and show your bare ass to the nurses— Oh, don’t deny it, Pop. I’m a doctor. I know how things work in a hospital,” Jake said with a broad smile as he made his escape.
Thank God. Thank God Pop’s all right.
That sentiment—and the silly fact that his pop was playing matchmaker from his hospital bed—made Jake feel almost giddy as he came out of the curtained carrel in the ER.
“Well, you heard the man,” Jake said to Vivien. “We’d better go get him some dinner. And he said to take our time so he can get settled in his room.”
“What about your sisters?” Vivien asked as he started for the driver’s-side door of his car. “I’m sure they’re waiting to hear from you. I’ll drive so you can text them.”
Jake sighed and pivoted to go to the passenger door. “I might just as well call them—even if I text, they’ll just call me anyway. Look.” He held up his phone and she saw six missed calls from Mattie and five from Irene, along with twenty text notifications.
Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at Federico’s. Even though it was Friday, because it was midafternoon, they were able to get a cozy booth tucked in the back. It was terribly, horribly, wonderfully romantic, with lush navy velvet upholstery and a cluster of three real candles on the table, along with a small bud vase of fragrant peonies. Traditional Italian music played at the perfect volume in the background, and the light sconces on the walls cast golden glows on idyllic paintings of Tuscany landscapes. Vivien felt like she was inThe Godfather.
Vivien ordered a negroni, and between phone calls, Jake decided on a glass of Primitivo. He was still talking to one of his sisters—maybe Irene, whom Vivien was pretty sure was the second one; Mathilda, a.k.a. Mattie, was the eldest—but Vivien could tell the conversation was wrapping up. He’d had to give each of his siblings all of the same information despite the fact that he’d probably texted the info as well, and she could see that he was quite ready to be done with it.
Just as their drinks—and a bread basket—arrived, he disconnected the last call.
“I really need this,” he said, lifting the wine to smell it. “Mm. Nice. My sisters make me crazy sometimes. Most of the time.”
Vivien submerged a quiet pang of sorrow that she didn’t have a sister to drive her crazy (although sometimes Liv did anyway, at least in her mind). She helped herself to a hunk of crusty bread and dragged it through the greenish-yellow olive oil sprinkled with salt and pepper. She was starving.
There was silence for a moment as they looked through the menus. Vivien felt both awkward and utterly comfortable—how was that possible?—sitting here at a restaurant across from the man with whom she’d once shared everything.
Finally, he put the menu down and looked at her with those dark, dark eyes as candlelight smoldered between them. “Vivien…thank you.” That was all he said, but there were volumes in the tone and in his gaze.
The lump in her throat made it impossible for her to respond right away, so she nodded, then lifted her glass. “To Ricky,” she said when she found her voice. “May he live another three decades or more, thus ensuring all of your thick, gorgeous hair goes completely gray.”
Jake laughed, his eyes warm over the rim of his wine glass. “To Pop’s health.”
They placed their orders, including the to-go, and then there was nothing left to do but talk.
“What happened with your mom?” Vivien spoke first purposely in order to divert the conversation from the uncomfortable topic she knew was coming.
“She was being treated for colorectal adenocarcinoma—uh, colon cancer—and she seemed to be doing well, responding to chemo as expected. We’d all visited her here—it’ll be two years ago in September. Then one day in November I got a call from Pop—not much different from today’s call—that they were on their way to the hospital because she was feeling really sick. We were all in shock when she died later that night—it was sepsis from the chemo, and it took her really fast—before any of us could even think about getting on a plane.”
“So none of you really got to say goodbye to her.” Vivien reached across the table and touched his hand. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“No, we didn’t—although at least we’d all seen her a short while earlier. That’s why everyone was so—tense, I guess, today. My sisters and Dom were already making reservations to fly in.” He turned his hand upside down so that her fingers slipped into his palm.
His hand, his skin, the texture, the shape…it all felt good. Right. Familiar.
