Read Online The Supreme Macaroni Company by Adriana Trigiani - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Adriana Trigiani
Ads: Link
remember. It was like the last button fastened on a topcoat against the cold.
“Took you long enough. Did you walk back from Queens?” Gabriel asked as I made my way to the kitchen with the leftovers. He was already wearing his bathrobe. “Where’s Gianluca?”
“He went to the hotel.”
“Too awkward with me here?”
“No, not at all.”
“Liar.” Gabriel poured water from the kettle into a mug. “I’m not going to feel bad. You have the rest of your lives to spend together.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Want a cup of tea? Laci Le Beau’s Super Dieter’s Tea. After that meal, my liver needs an intervention. While I’m at it, I’m cleansing my colon and resting my pancreas.”
“Make me a cup, too. Now I have to worry about looking good in a wedding dress.”
My cell phone buzzed in my purse. I fished it out. “Hi, Ma.”
“Did you get Auntie home all right?”
“Yes. And that was our good deed for the year.”
“Hon, I know it’s too soon to talk dates—”
“Ma, seriously. After that meal, you want to talk about a wedding date?”
“Well, it’s never too soon. At your age, you shouldn’t have a long engagement.”
“We’re not that old.”
“You’re not particularly young either. You don’t have a decade to spare like a twenty-something couple. Let’s face it. You need to bust a move here.”
When my mother uses phrases that she overheard on the crosstown bus in 1985, like “bust a move,” it makes me want to do the opposite. “Let’s talk after the New Year.”
“I gave Carol Kall a jingle.”
“It’s Christmas Eve !”
“She picked up. They’re Jewish.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s still a holiday.”
“She didn’t mind at all. I have her home number from the breast cancer benefit. She had the kids in bed, and she and her husband had ordered in Chinese.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, somebody has to take the bull by the horns.”
“I got engaged at eight p.m. There’s no bull, there’s no horns, and the ring isn’t even warm on my hand yet.”
“You have to be strategic if you want to book Leonard’s.”
“We don’t want Leonard’s.”
“Carol offered the Venetian Room.”
“God, Ma. Seriously?”
“I know. Is luck on your side or what? And get this. She has an open date in February.”
“A year from now is too far off.”
“No, no. This February.”
“Six weeks from now?” I pulled my stomach in. I couldn’t possibly get down to a size 8 in six weeks. Well, maybe I could with the cabbage diet. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am! She has a runaway bride who just canceled out on February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day— okay? If this isn’t God coming down off a cloud and offering you a gift on your feast day, I don’t know what is. This is fate at work. We should grab it and run like the wind. She’s got a waiting list you know.”
“I have to talk to Gianluca. We may want to elope.” A few seconds went by. “Ma, are you there?”
“I always have problems when I call Queens,” Gabriel said as he thumbed through a magazine.
A few more seconds of silence. I was about to hang up, and I said, “Ma? Are you there?”
“Not for long. I just had a stroke. Do not say the word elope to me ever again! You might as well slap me in the face with a shovel!”
“I can’t take histrionics. I just drove through two states with Aunt Feen.”
“Valentine, you listen to me. You’re going to have a proper wedding. No running off. That’s not even real . Catholics do not go to city hall. We marry in cathedrals. You get a white carpet from the foyer to the altar. Pews marked with ribbons. For the love of Mary, we festoon. We make a sacrament. It’s holy! We get blessed and re-up our baptismal promises. Besides, we need to welcome Gianluca into the fold.”
“He’s seen our fold.”
“All the more reason to put this planning period on frappé. You want to marry Gianluca before he goes on social security,
“Took you long enough. Did you walk back from Queens?” Gabriel asked as I made my way to the kitchen with the leftovers. He was already wearing his bathrobe. “Where’s Gianluca?”
“He went to the hotel.”
“Too awkward with me here?”
“No, not at all.”
“Liar.” Gabriel poured water from the kettle into a mug. “I’m not going to feel bad. You have the rest of your lives to spend together.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Want a cup of tea? Laci Le Beau’s Super Dieter’s Tea. After that meal, my liver needs an intervention. While I’m at it, I’m cleansing my colon and resting my pancreas.”
“Make me a cup, too. Now I have to worry about looking good in a wedding dress.”
My cell phone buzzed in my purse. I fished it out. “Hi, Ma.”
“Did you get Auntie home all right?”
“Yes. And that was our good deed for the year.”
“Hon, I know it’s too soon to talk dates—”
“Ma, seriously. After that meal, you want to talk about a wedding date?”
“Well, it’s never too soon. At your age, you shouldn’t have a long engagement.”
“We’re not that old.”
“You’re not particularly young either. You don’t have a decade to spare like a twenty-something couple. Let’s face it. You need to bust a move here.”
When my mother uses phrases that she overheard on the crosstown bus in 1985, like “bust a move,” it makes me want to do the opposite. “Let’s talk after the New Year.”
“I gave Carol Kall a jingle.”
“It’s Christmas Eve !”
“She picked up. They’re Jewish.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s still a holiday.”
“She didn’t mind at all. I have her home number from the breast cancer benefit. She had the kids in bed, and she and her husband had ordered in Chinese.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, somebody has to take the bull by the horns.”
“I got engaged at eight p.m. There’s no bull, there’s no horns, and the ring isn’t even warm on my hand yet.”
“You have to be strategic if you want to book Leonard’s.”
“We don’t want Leonard’s.”
“Carol offered the Venetian Room.”
“God, Ma. Seriously?”
“I know. Is luck on your side or what? And get this. She has an open date in February.”
“A year from now is too far off.”
“No, no. This February.”
“Six weeks from now?” I pulled my stomach in. I couldn’t possibly get down to a size 8 in six weeks. Well, maybe I could with the cabbage diet. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am! She has a runaway bride who just canceled out on February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day— okay? If this isn’t God coming down off a cloud and offering you a gift on your feast day, I don’t know what is. This is fate at work. We should grab it and run like the wind. She’s got a waiting list you know.”
“I have to talk to Gianluca. We may want to elope.” A few seconds went by. “Ma, are you there?”
“I always have problems when I call Queens,” Gabriel said as he thumbed through a magazine.
A few more seconds of silence. I was about to hang up, and I said, “Ma? Are you there?”
“Not for long. I just had a stroke. Do not say the word elope to me ever again! You might as well slap me in the face with a shovel!”
“I can’t take histrionics. I just drove through two states with Aunt Feen.”
“Valentine, you listen to me. You’re going to have a proper wedding. No running off. That’s not even real . Catholics do not go to city hall. We marry in cathedrals. You get a white carpet from the foyer to the altar. Pews marked with ribbons. For the love of Mary, we festoon. We make a sacrament. It’s holy! We get blessed and re-up our baptismal promises. Besides, we need to welcome Gianluca into the fold.”
“He’s seen our fold.”
“All the more reason to put this planning period on frappé. You want to marry Gianluca before he goes on social security,
Similar Books
