“I would kill to have you as a daughter-in-law,” Anita said. “Lark, imagine that! Your sister and your sister-in-law!”
“That would be very unique,” Lark said. She turned her kind eyes to Lorenzo. “What did you want to talk about, Lorenzo?”
The table quieted, more or less. William looked at him and whimpered.
Winnie looked at him steadily. Go ahead, she mouthed.
Lorenzo put down his fork and inhaled. “Well. Yes. I…I suppose I did want to bring something up.” Everyone was looking at him. Sweat trickled down his back. “I’ve always felt a little…separate from the rest of you. Being sent to St. George’s?—”
“Oh, please, not this again,” said his father. “Lorenzo. That was a gift. A privilege. Do you know how much we spent on that school? You loved it there. It was where you belonged. You didn’t even want to come home for the holidays!”
“You aways wanted to stay with Noni,” Sofia said.
“He was welded to Noni,” Izzy said. “He used to tell me straight out that he was her favorite. Which was true. I don’t think she ever fully understood that I was also her grandchild.”
“I was seven at the time, Dad,” Lorenzo said. “And yes, it was a stellar school, but I’ve always felt…somewhat…isolated because of that. From the rest of you.”
“You mean, you don’t want to be superior to the rest of us?” Izzy asked. “Isn’t that kind of your thing, though? Telling us how much smarter and better you are?”
His shirt was now stuck to his back. “No. It’s not my thing.”
“Well,” Dante said. “It’s been your thing, brother.”
“I’m trying to say that…sometimes…I feel…” Wistful. Lonely. Envious.
“Bitter?” Izzy offered.
“Resentful,” he snapped. “Because you’re all this big happy pile of puppies, and I was sent away and became who I am and now just pay for college and weddings and houses and vacations, and no one here really even…” Shit. This was going horribly.
“Lorenzo, maybe you could be a tiny bit more diplomatic?” Sofia said. “Everything you just said, you gave to us without anyone asking. You offered. You’re very generous, and we’ve all thanked you many times.”
“Do you want us to put up a statue?” Izzy said. “Maybe carve your face into the side of Mom and Dad’s house? Would that be good enough?”
“Harsh, Izzy,” Dante said.
“Me? Are you kidding?”
The conversation was sinking faster than the Titanic. “No! I’m trying to say I…I just wish I hadn’t been…sent away.” For a second, it was like he was in the back of Noni’s car, looking out the back window as his family grew smaller and smaller, Noni’s stream of Italian meant to make him feel better and somehow making him feel worse.
His mother threw down her napkin. “Are you going to criticize us, Lorenzo? We did what we thought was best! We sacrificed for you! Do you think it was easy sending you off to that school? Do you think my heart wasn’t broken every night when I saw your empty bed? You were too smart for a regular school, and when your grandmother told us about St. George’s, it seemed like the best thing for you. And here you are, ridiculously successful, but now we were bad parents?” She burst into tears.
“I didn’t say that,” Lorenzo said, rubbing his forehead. Why had he listened to Winnie? Why?
“You made your mother cry,” said his father. “Nice work. She worked all day on this meal, and God knows how long it’s been since we all got together, and you’re bringing this up, Lorenzo? You’re forty-one years old. Get over it. Honey, please don’t cry. Come here.” His father wrapped an arm around his mother and glared at Lorenzo.
No one said a thing. William then joined his grandmother and started wailing. Lorenzo glanced at Winnie, who looked frozen, then down at his plate.
Dante cleared his throat and said, “Well, completely meaning to change the subject…” He took Lark’s hand. “Mom, Dad, you’re gonna have another grandchild.”
There was a beat of silence, then the room exploded with shrieks and shouts and congratulations. For one second, Lark caught his eye and smiled, and Lorenzo gave her a nod. Happy news for sure, and not surprising. Winnie yelped with joy and hugged her sister, and Sofia was telling William he would be a big-boy cousin, and Izzy ran downstairs to the wine cellar that Lorenzo had stocked for his father for his sixty-fifth birthday and brought up champagne, and the rest of the night was all about baby names and breastfeeding and cervixes.
Lorenzo didn’t have much to add other than congratulations. He hugged his brother, kissed Lark on the cheek, got his mother champagne and felt like a criminal.
An eternity later, Lorenzo and Winnie got in his car and headed for home.
“We’re going to have a niece or nephew,” she said happily. “Wow. I’m not a hundred percent surprised, but it’s such great news. They’re coming to Wellfleet tomorrow to tell my side of the family. They’ll be the best parents.”
“Yes.”
