Page 152 of Married with Mayhem

“Look at you,” I squeal when I get a good look at Sal Castelli, all dressed to the nines in a dark blue suit for the occasion. “You look great. I’m taking pictures and I will accept no arguments.”

Sal smiles and steps inside when I hold open the door. He’s holding a bouquet of red roses. “Is my date ready?”

“Almost. So what are you two crazy kids planning to do tonight?”

His eyes flicker past me in search of my mother. Yeah, he’s definitely nervous. For months he’s been asking her for a date. Though Mama enjoys Sal’s company, she wasn’t quite ready for romance but she encouraged him to keep asking. Finally, she said yes.

“Dinner and a show,” he says and winks. “Don’t worry. I’ll have her back at a decent hour.”

I wink back at him. “I won’t wait up to hold you to it.”

The way he throws his head back with laughter reminds me very much of his son. Then he abruptly stops laughing and his expression changes, becomes almost boyish.

My mother has entered the room. The way they stare at each other with timid admiration is so adorable that I want to jump up and down.

“You look lovely, Giulia,” Sal says and presents the roses.

“Thank you, Sal.” She sniffs the flowers with a blush in her cheeks.

Rather than gawk at their private moment, I make myself useful by moving to the tiny kitchen to find something to put the flowers in. A tall plastic tumbler is the best I can do and I fill it with water as I take another peek at my mother smiling up at her date.

Mama’s apartment renovations are finished and she loves living in her cozy new place. She’s far happier than she ever was in that gothic Long Island mansion where my sisters and I grew up or in Vittorio’s oversized villa. Half a dozen different volunteer projects ranging from a soup kitchen to an animal shelter keep her busy. At least once every two months she flies to Colorado to visit Anni and Jane.

Plus she now has a second grandchild. Daisy’s baby boy was born just ten days ago. I couldn’t talk them into naming him Little Man Bowie but that’s probably for the best. His name is Leo. We all adore him.

“One photo,” I plead when I’m finished with the flowers. “For Anni and Daisy. Please.”

Mama takes Sal’s arm and beams as I raise my cell phone. I told a little lie when I said I’d just take one photo. I snap four photos and quickly send the best one to my sisters.

Sal and Mama proceed down to the ground floor first and I follow at a slower pace while admiring the recent building improvements. Now that I’m the owner, I’ve hired a historical architecture expert to assist with making some changes. The interior has already received a facelift and the stairwell is considerably brighter. The residents here deserve to have a nice place to call home.

Monte is waiting outside of Gino’s, unwilling to miss a chance to watch his father leave on a date. He’s told me that as far as he knows, Sal hasn’t dated at all since his divorce over six years ago.

He’s been working all day and there’s a smear of marinara sauce on his Gino’s Pizzeria shirt. A small white towel is slung over his shoulder, copying his father. With my help, Monte has launched a very successful social media marketing campaign and business is booming. Monte has big plans. He wants to openup a second Gino’s location in Brooklyn. Sal was doubtful at first but I do believe he’s coming around.

The second I’m at Monte’s side, his arm slips around me. The night is warm for the first week in April. We watch our parents walk slowly down Orchard Street. Sal says something and Mama laughs, holding onto his arm.

“Guess what?” he says.

“You’re going to close up early so you can carry me upstairs and fulfill my endless carnal needs?”

“Soon enough.” He dips his head to grab a quick kiss and then grins. “If they end up getting married that will make us…”

“NO.” I clap both my hands over his mouth, which isn’t easy. I have to stretch. “Don’t say it. Don’t ever say it. And if by some quirk they ever do get married, you’restillnot allowed to say it.”

Laughing, he removes my hands, turns me around and cages me in with his arms. “You win,” he teases.

He rocks me back and forth and we watch traffic and pedestrians pass by as twilight begins to settle.

Monte has shown no sign that he misses living on the edge. Big Pete and his pals still come around for card games. Sometime mafia news does filter down to us. Uncle Vittorio has been flexing his muscles from Sicily and has made it clear any harm that comes to his family will be met with war.

We’re on the outside of the mafia realm and this is where we’ll stay. But I suppose Monte still calls in favors now and then.

One day I was scrolling through a gaming world blog when a paragraph caught my eye. A certain disgraced tech titan had suffered a setback in prison when he was severely beaten by some fellow inmates. I showed the article to Monte.

“That’s interesting,” he said in a mild tone and then asked if I would like chicken parmigiana for dinner.

I don’t need him to admit that somehow he used his connections to get revenge on the man who hurt me. Maybe I should disapprove but I just can’t find a reason.

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