Page 153 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“I knew I felt at home for a reason,” she says, her eyes shining.
We spendthe rest of the day cooking for the Feast of the Seven Fishes, something Nonna insists we all do together, even though only she, Nico, Lucy, and Aria have any skill in the kitchen.
It’s loud, it’s chaotic. Nonna nearly throws a plate at Lobster Stalker when he tries to steal a shrimp.
I wouldn’t prefer to be anywhere else in the world.
When we feast together, it feels like we earned it. Other friends stop by to enjoy some of the courses with us. Portiaarrives first with Amanda, whom Aria is clearly starstruck over but tries not to be obvious about it. Eileen arrives shortly afterward.
She sits down at the empty place setting next to Lucy and says, “Giovanni’s next, I think.”
“Next for what?” I ask.
Lucy mimes a chopping block.
“Next to be murdered?” I guess, giving her a wry smile.
“Next to fall in love,” Eileen says in a dreamy voice.
I feel like they’re counting on me to make some kind of joke, but I don’t have it in me. I’m too full of joy, of the feeling of family.
“You’re right,” I say. “He’s actually been helping me screw my head on straight ever since I came home. And I get the sense he’s a little heartbroken over his ex-girlfriend.”
Eileen grimaces.
“Oh no, Eileen…” Lucy makes a face, glancing across the table at Giovanni, who’s telling an animated story to Aria, who seems more interested in our conversation. “You’re the one who set his ex up with someone else, aren’t you?”
“All will be resolved,” Eileen says enigmatically. “I’ll find the perfect woman for him in no time.” She sighs and says, “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but it’s too bad Charlie’s getting married.”
“Eileen,” Lucy says, while I laugh.
“Oh, I’m only kidding. She’s much too similar to him anyway. A person needs their foil. I’ll be giving this plenty of thought.”
“Giovanni won’t know what hit him,” I say with a laugh.
Just then, my grandmother bangs on the table, hard enough that the baccalà jumps on its plate. “I have an announcement to make.”
“Come on, Nonna, you don’t need to scare us all to death,” Aria says, rolling her eyes.
She gets the glare she knows she’s earned. Then our grandmother turns to the table as a whole, wagging a finger at us, “You think I haven’t noticed you children taking turns spending the night at my house?”
We exchange glances, because yeah, we figured we’d gotten away with it, or that she hadn’t minded enough to question it.
“Well, I have noticed. I may be old, but I’m not stupid,” she says. “There’s no need to interrupt your lives to be here every night. If it becomes necessary for me to have someone every night, I’ll hire a companion.” She nods to Lucy. “Lucia has offered to help me find someone.”
I gape at her, shocked by the easy use of my nickname for her as much as the offer. “What is it with the women in my life pulling one over on me lately?”
“You owe me at least that for the five heart attacks you gave me this week,” Lucy murmurs.
“There will be no further discussion on this,” Nonna says regally. Then she adds aggressively, “Why has no one tried the baccalà? You must all eat,eat.”
We stuff ourselves and then watch Christmas movies in the family room before we walk to the church together for midnight mass—the one time of year all of us grandchildren go to church with Nonna.
Church lets out at midnight, and we spill out together, the whole city seeming to glow with twinkle lights.
“It’s Christmas,” Aria says with a glow. “Let’s make snow angels.”
Lucy grins up at me, and I don’t even ask if she wants to do it. I know. So I grab her hand, and we run over to join Aria on the snow-covered lawn—all of us flopping down onto it to make angel impressions in the days-old snow with our arms and legs outstretched.
