Page 73 of The Singing Trees
Annalisa grinned to herself. Maybe Walt did have a few cards to play.
Nonna read right through it. “No, no. I won’t tell you my age.”
“Sorry,” Walt said, throwing up his hand. “I’m not asking your age. I’m simply wondering when you came and if you came through New York like me.”
Nonna nodded with an ever-so-slight look his way. “Yes.”
“Yes, what, Nonna?” Annalisa said, nudging her grandmother with a foot under the table.
Nonna glared at her granddaughter like she was about to launch across the table. As she answered Walt with a quick, “Yes, New York,” she kicked Annalisa right back, much harder than a nudge.
Annalisa’s mouth sprang open in shock, feeling a bruise coming on from the therapeutic-shoe attack.
The two had one of their stare downs, which Annalisa had missed. But only slightly.
Poor Walt sat there quietly, and Annalisa thought he had a long way to go in understanding Italians.
Annalisa won the contest as Nonna crossed her arms and slid her eyes left. The place where Nonna had kicked her throbbed.
Walt stepped in to save the dinner from all-out war. He said to Nonna, “Can you believe what your granddaughter has done with the shop?” Annalisa had given the tour upon arrival that afternoon.
“I’m very impressed,” Nonna admitted, almost like she was confessing to a crime.
“If she’s not careful,” he said, “we might have to rename the place. Maybe the Clock Shop Gallery. I’ve never seen someone work so hard.”
Annalisa thanked him. She couldn’t have been more proud or thrilled of how she’d helped Walt with his shop, and maybe his life some too. He looked sharp tonight, a far cry from the man she’d found coughing blood a month earlier. Helping him in the last month had put wonderful smiles on her face and had somehow returned her love of painting to her. She wasn’t stopping, and that short commute allowed her to even grab a few minutes during lunch.
She pointed at Nonna, who still stared off to her left with her arms crossed. “I guess I have a little bit of Nonna’s Roman gladiator, fight-to-the-death blood in me.”
Nonna spun toward Annalisa. “How dare you.”
“Relax.” Annalisa broke into a laugh, and Walt followed closely behind, though his was more conservative and careful, like he was a firefighter touching a doorknob.
“I’m very happy to be here,” he said, clearing his throat, “and to know you all. You’re both very charming.”
“If you say so,” Annalisa said, thinking that, judging by the rare smile on his face, maybe he did understand Italians.
Nonna finally spoke up in a surprisingly warm way. “We’re both very grateful for what you’ve done for Annalisa, Walt.”
“I don’t know exactly what I’ve done for her,” he said. “She’s the one who bravely stuck her hand down and pulled me out of my hole.”
After a rough start, the rest of the dinner went wonderfully, and Annalisa was so happy to see both Nonna and Walt lightening up so.
Between bites of a tiramisu that she’d made, Annalisa thought of a way to gently nudge their relationship forward. Asking forgiveness for the deceit she was about to enact, she asked, “Walt, when are you going to take us for a drive in your Plymouth? I think Nonna would have a blast.”
“Anytime you’d like,” he replied, looking like she’d asked a dog to play fetch. An old dog but a happy one nonetheless.
“How about tomorrow before we open?” Annalisa asked.
Walt looked perfectly delighted. “You’re on.”
Minutes before eight the next morning, Annalisa and Nonna descended the stairs to find Walt polishing the hood of his Plymouth Belvedere, the one Annalisa had backed into last June. The air hovered around freezing, the sky mostly clear of clouds.
“Look at this beauty,” Annalisa said, seeing that the front bumper was as good as new.
“Good morning,” Walt said, hitting one last spot on the hood. He folded the rag. “What a day for a drive.”
Knowing she was about to get in all kinds of trouble, Annalisa jumped into her lie. “You won’t believe this, but I just got a call from a friend of mine. Her boyfriend’s broken up with her, and she’s crying, and...anyway. She really needs me.”
