“She’s wearing it to the engagement party, Ma.”
Maria looked between them with a slack jaw. Then burst into a loud litany of Italian that sounded like she was half crying, half laughing hysterically.
“You are getting married to a very well-established man,” she cried. “You must look respectable. You cannot wear your sister’s clothes.” Maria thrust a hand in Vanessa’s direction. “She gets paid to walk around half-naked. She’s too skinny. Why would you embarrass me this way? You’re a good girl.”
When the hand flutterings started, Lucy began removing the dress straps. “I’m obviously not wearing this one, Mom. I was just trying it on. It’s pretty.”
“It shows too much skin!” The flutterings graduated to brisk hand gestures. “Do I have to take you shopping?”
“Oh please no.” Vanessa helped Lucy out of the dress. “I’ll take her. I promise not to let her buy anything that would offend the Barone name.” She said this so sarcastically that Lucy winced, but Maria did not seem to notice.
“That is right! Your father worked hard in this country to make a name for himself. To give you the life you have. He earned his respect. Now we show our respect to him by behaving in a way that will not waste the sacrifices he has made.”
She and her sister stayed silent under their mother’s admonishment, knowing they were always in the biggest trouble when she spoke to them in Italian only. As if making them work to understand her was a part of the punishment.Or maybe because she could only express herself most fully in her native tongue.
“I won’t wear the dress,” Lucy repeated, placatingly.
“It was a joke,” Vanessa added sullenly.
Maria’s eyes filled with a kind of sadness that Lucy was unsure how to interpret. “It was not a funny one, Vanessa.” She moved around the room collecting an armful of laundry. “Come eat something. I have soup on the stove.” Then, she was gone.
“How do you stand it?” Vanessa asked, flopping down on the bed with a bounce.
Lucy didn’t have to ask what she meant. It was no secret Vanessa and their mother always butted heads.
“I got used to it a long time ago, Ness. I kind of tune it out.”
“Ugh, gross. I couldn’t do it. The constant nagging. Nothing is ever good enough. I always felt so suffocated, like there was no room to breathe.”
Lucy shrugged. “It was different for you. You were younger, prettier.”
Vanessa grabbed the brush beside her and smacked Lucy’s arm.
“You were and youare,” Lucy insisted. “You have that classic Italian glamor that I never had. Combined with your bubbly free-spirited personality, they were always harder on you. It was protective. They wanted to keep you from getting hurt or rushing into things. But I’m not like that.”
“Oh please, Lu, you make it sound like you’re some dried up spinster who’s good for nothing but taking care of the old people and keeping Dad’s books in the black. You’d think the fact that having a guy like Joel ask you tomarry himwould have given you a little boost to the ole confidence.”
Lucy sighed. Vanessa had been gone so long she didn’tknow how hard Lucy had tried to get their father to see her as an asset to Barone & Sons. She wouldn’t have understood either.
Vanessa had never wanted any part in it, content instead to chase glamor and fame. Unlike Lucy who quite enjoyed taking care of the old people and keeping the books in the black, that brought meaning to her life. But she also wanted more.
She had the confidence she needed; she knew her worth. It was her parents’ confidence she lacked, and she needed Joel to help her to get it. Her mother’s outbursts proved that. Maria respected Joel, more than her own daughter. If Joel thought she was good enough to lead Barone & Sons, and her parents saw that, then maybe they’d believe it too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Joel’s apartment door clicked open before the knocking stopped, and he knew without having to look that it was his sister. Hope had always entered his room that way. To be fair, around the time he became a teenager, their mother had spoken to her about the importance of knocking and privacy, because up until that point, she barged right in without knocking at all. After the talk, Hope had simply assumed that knocking while barging in was sufficient and stuck with that.
The only way he’d kept her out had been to lock his door. Which he had unfortunately failed to do this afternoon.
Sure enough, her cheery voice rang through the living room, and he could no longer pretend to focus on his laptop. Sometimes he really did miss his office on the eighteenth floor, with the floor to ceiling glass walls that fully tinted with the flick of a remote.
“Hey you, long time no see.” She wandered in carrying what looked like a massive cake box with two coffee cups balanced precariously on top.
“What’s this?” Joel asked as he got up to take the load from her. “Did I miss the memo that I was hosting a birthday party?” The box was heavier than expected. “And why on earth are you carrying this? I thought women who were about to give birth were supposed to rest.”
Hope laughed loudly. “That’s funny. You’re funny.” She did, however, proceed directly to his couch and sank down onto it with a heavy sigh, leaving him holding the cake box and cups. He set them on the table, picked up one of the cups, and inhaled.
Peppermint. Gross. He handed the tea to his sister, then lifted the next cup. Americano. That was more like it.
