Page 17 of The Twins

Vandy mouths,“I’m sorry!”, but I shrug it off. Her mother is oddly comforting, reminding me of most of the women in my family.

“Where’s my girl?” Vandy’s father is a red-headed pasty guy of obvious Scottish descent and only 5 ½ feet tall. He wraps his arms around Vandy and lifts her up in a bear hug. I smile at the two of them. I find the knowledge that Vandy has supportive and loving parents comforting.

We stand just inside their living room, and I feel like a giant ogre in their house. Her dad puts her down with a kiss to her forehead, then turns to me with a warm, welcoming grin and extended hand. “Theo Gibbs.” We shake and his grip is firm but not aggressive. “My wife, Dalisay.”

“Tevye Frenkel. Thank you for inviting me into your home.” See, I have manners.

“And who is this little guy?”

“My son Arlo. Arlo, can you say hello to Vandy’s mom and dad?” Arlo grins but still shoves his face into my neck to hide.

“Dinner is ready.”

“It smells wonderful.” I comment as we are led through their living room to their dining room. The table is set and loaded with food, and it does smell good.

“Of course it does.” Theo chuckles at his wife’s retort, while Vandy tries to vanish into her chair. I get Arlo situated in his portable booster seat between me and Vandy. Conversation is stiff as we pass around the food and fill our plates.

“Where did…Is Vandy a family name? It is Filipino and NOT Asian?” I ask after a few tense seconds. Vandy releases a gust of breath and manages to sink lower into her chair.

Theo chuckles, “It is Filipino.” He shares a long look with his wife, and for a moment, so fast if I blinked, I would have missed it, Dalisay softens under the watchful eye of her husband. “But Dal and I met at Vanderbilt University. And Vandy is a common nickname for the school. Seemed fitting to name our daughter after such an important part of our lives.”

A weird sensation crawls up my spine, tugging at my lips. Dear God, it’ssweetthat they did that. I steal a look at Vandy and nearly choke on my tongue when I notice her eyes wide in alarm. She mouths, “Please meet our little girl, Support Group Frenkel.”I was thinking the same thing. It’s oddly comforting that she and I are on the same wavelength. Look at us being all coupley, as she called it before.

“So,” Theo begins, “you’re part of the mafia.” Well, let’s just dive right in. The small talk portion of the evening is apparently over.

“DAD!” Vandy admonishes but he isn’t put off. And here I thought Dalisay was the tough nut to crack.

“My daughter is dating a man involved in organized crime. His family has a deadly reputation and you’re not only in business with them, but now you’re in their bed.”

There isn’t much I can say in defense of my family. He isn’t wrong, exactly. “Do not speak to or about your daughter like that again.” I say in an even tone, my heavy stare on Theo at the head of the table. He doesn’t cower like others do.

“Dad, regardless of what you have read or heard, the Holofcener family and their close relatives are building up our community. Medical assistance. Business start-ups—"

“Achieving orgasms.” Dalisay chimes in. I’ll have to tell Jonah Swingin’ Schlay Productions is well-known far and wide, he’ll be tickled.

Vandy glances sharply at her mother. “They have a wide variety of businesses under their umbrella, but they are one of the largest employers in the city and state, benefactors for hospitals, hospice, food banks, shelters.” I sit back and let Vandy handle her parents. She’s doing a phenomenal job of putting them in their place. I break up a few pieces of food and put it on Arlo’s tray. He happily smashes them between his fists and shoves the mush into his mouth.

“Tevye?” I look back up several minutes later. It’s best to tune them out or I wouldn’t just be talking about my favorite torture methods, I would be giving them an up close and personal demonstration.

“Yes?” Dalisay stares at me with open hostility. I’m used to it, and I can respect it. They don’t know me. They don’t know my family. They know rumors, supposition, fear mongering.

“You want my Vandy to be his nanny?” That was unexpected.

“No.”

“You want her to stop working to take care of you and your child?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want?”

“After another helping of adobo?” Vandy spits her drink out, apparently surprised by my quip. “Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs, I want to spend time with your daughter. As much as she’ll allow and see where it goes from there. You raised an intelligent, compassionate, hardworking, competent woman. I know where I’d like it to go, but I’m in no rush. We’ll get where we’re going when we get there.”

Theo and Dalisay exchange a look, like earlier. My parents do it. Aunts and uncles. Hell, even Jonah and Harper do it. A sign of a good relationship I’m told is when you can communicate without saying a word.

Dalisay scoops some more adobo and fills my plate. She uses the serving spoon to point between Vandy and me. “No more children without a wedding.” I choke on the bite I just took. It’s delicious but not meant for the lungs. I’ll have to ask Vandy what they discussed while I focused on Arlo and how she brought them around.

“NANAY!”

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