Zio pulls her inward and plants a kiss on each of her cheeks.
“Any student of Pastore’s is welcome here. Especially one with the acclamations that he has given you. It is our pleasure.”
She turns to Nina with the same genuine smile—one that has yet to be sent my way—and says, “This all smells so delicious, Nina. My stomach woke me up and saved me from sleeping straight through the night.”
“Sit here,” Massimo tells her with a devilish smile, pulling out the seat beside him. Nina gives him the look and pulls out the seat next to me instead as she stands.
“Sit, carina. Mangia. I will get the melanzana,” she says, putting her hand lightly on Ava’s shoulder and then making her way into the kitchen to fetch more eggplant.
Everything about the woman taking the seat beside me screams impeccable manners. Where were those manners with me? Apparently, I was deemed unworthy.
“You are finding the guest house comfortable, no?” my uncle asks.
Ava nods and the flame from the lantern at the center of the table catches the gold in her hair as her head moves. There’s a shadow dancing in the tiny indent below her clavicle. My fingers itch again. But my camera is in the kitchen.
“The guest house is beautiful. Obviously, you and Nina have impeccable taste,” she says gesturing to the space around us. Everything in the dining room is handcrafted—some things, like the olive wood buffet and the bench surrounding the stone fireplace, were made by my uncle and me. Others come from my Zio’s and Zia’s travels through Italia.
My uncle presses his lips together and looks my way, lifting a brow, silently asking if he should redirect the American’s compliment my way. I shake my head subtly. The woman doesn’t need to know that I designed and built the guest house. We need to keep her arsenal limited or she’ll be requesting updates and remodels when we move her along to the apartment.
She finally glances my way, following my uncle’s gaze. Her eyes narrow, possibly wondering why the family butler is sitting at the right hand of the dean.
“I thought you’d be working tonight,” she says softly enough for only me to hear.
I dip a piece of bread into the wild boar ragù left on my plate and take a bite, chewing slowly while she waits for me to answer. Being stuck at a table with me is nearly breaking the pleasant manners she’s perfecting—seemingly for my aunt’s and uncle’s benefit only. I dab my mouth with my napkin and she lets out a sigh.
“I decided there are more important things than money,” I say at full volume. “Like having dinner with my family.”
I pat Zio Leo’s arm and he rolls his eyes.
There’s a fleeting moment where Ava’s soft green pupils dilate and her lids lift as understanding hits her, but she grits her teeth into a smile and nods.
“That makes sense. It wasn’t adding up why such a kind and generous family would keep someone like you around,” she says, her voice low. She takes a sip of the red wine Massimo has filled to the brim, not spilling a drop and keeping her eyes on mine as she drinks. Impressive. “But now—knowing you are their blood—they have little choice in the matter.”
My uncle makes a sound in his chest that I know is a suppressed chuckle, and Max kicks me beneath the table. I turn to meet my cousin’s stare and he waggles his eyebrows at me. Twelvegoing on twenty, that one. I throw a piece of bread at him and he picks it off his lap and eats it with a grin.
“Well, it seems you and my nephew are acquainted, no?” Uncle Leo says, gesturing between Ava and me. He meets Nina’s eyes over our heads as she enters from the kitchen.
“Certo. Very acquainted,” Nina confirms. “That is why Ava needed to learn all of those Italian profanities today.” She throws me a wink and slips back into her seat at the head of the table, motioning with her hand for Ava to take more.
“You will find, Ms. Graham, that James comes and goes as he pleases, but will never miss a meal,” Zio Leo tells her. “Though in the summer he’s a more constant fixture.” That about sums it up. I nod once.
“How charming,” Ava mumbles as she forks a huge piece of eggplant onto her already full plate. She’s never going to eat all of that. The woman weighs less than my dog when she’s soaking wet. “So he’s like your own version of Uncle Eddie fromChristmas Vacation.”
I groan. Of course she’d pick my uncle’s all-time favorite American movie. He has a thing for Chevy Chase and forces us to watch his movies at least once a month. He’s nodding vigorously, smiling wider than I’ve seen in some time.
“Essatamente, Ms. Graham. Well said!”
“I think Nina might need help in the kitchen,” I grumble, standing up to get the hell out of the line of fire, though I’m used to this gently barbed banter. Ball-busting is a tradition at this table, but I really just want an excuse to find my camera. The moonlight is doing incredible things with the shadows tonight.
“How can I need help nella cucina if I’m right here, James?” Nina asks, making a hmmm noise after.
“I’ll do the dishes.” I go to grab Max’s plate across from me and he snarls. Zio smacks the back of his head and hands me his.
Like clockwork, Verga appears beside me, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, ready for its job.
“What kind of horse is that?” Ava asks, fork halfway to her mouth.
Nina chuckles.
