Page 30 of Wild Card

Giovanni

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“Much better Nonna. I need your help though.”

She waves at me to sit down. I run my hands across the blue homespun tablecloth. She’s had this as long as I can remember.

“What is it, Giovanni?”

“I have a friend who’s been ill. Stomach issues. She needs some food, but she can’t really hold anything down. What do you recommend?”

“Is this a girlfriend?” Her brown eyes twinkle.

“You’re the only girl in my life, Nonna,” I say, taking her hand.

She rolls her eyes. “I hope not, honey. I hope not. Bad enough that Lorenzo never settled down. You’re a good boy. You deserve a family of your own.”

Grief at the loss of my parents passes between us.

“I will one day. I promise.”

“Good,” she says with a nod. “So your friend. I just made up a batch of bone broth yesterday. Pick up some saltines and ginger ale, and I’ll pack up the broth. Okay?”

“Sounds great.” I’m about to push away from the table when Lorenzo enters.

“Che viso, Renzo! What happened to your face?”

He must not have stopped by for a few days. Nonna deserves better than this ingrate of a son.

“Nothing, Mama. Everything’s fine.” He goes to kiss her, and she swats him away. He has a new, ropey cut down his jawline. His hands are rough and bloody too.

“Go clean up. You make me sick with worry!” She pushes away and heads to the kitchen, muttering in Italian as she bangs around her pots and pans.

“How is our guest?” my uncle asks.

He doesn’t seem to even register Nonna’s distress.

“She’s in bad shape still.” She’s better than she was by far, but the less he knows the better. “What happened to you?”

“Got into it with some business associates again. Any word on the money?”

“Her family is working on it,” I say, thinking of Bridget’s text. “She was right. They don’t have four million upfront. They want to know the minimum we’ll take now to let her go.”

“Three million. Though four would be better.”

He walks over the bathroom, and I follow him.

“I don’t want anything from them,” I say. “I’ll take care of the bakery on my own. It’s not worth her life.”

“And what about my life, Gio? And Mama’s?”

My uncle washes the cut on his face and dabs it with ointment.

He knows damn well how I feel about his life right now. And how dare he throw Nonna in my face after what he’s done?

“I see,” he says to my silence. “Maybe I should just hand her over to Freddie then and then grab her little sister. Maybe Daddy likes her better.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

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