Page 94 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“No. The work wasn’t right for me anymore.” I stop short of telling him that I didn’t like letting people go, that I had no stomach for it anymore, because he’ll think it’s a sign of weakness. A sign, maybe, that I should settle down in Hideaway Harbor and have a family that I take boating every weekend. A little Lobster Scout of my own.
A voice in my mind wonders if that would really be so bad.
Living in New York City is exciting. Something’s always happening, there are always deals being made, and you can walk around with the confidence that dozens of people you barely know aren’t discussing your personal business in detail. But most of the people I know there are good time friends. They’ll do you a favor, no problem, but only because they think you could return it in the future. The only friend I have in the city who isn’t like that is my best friend Will, and he’s from Hideaway Harbor too.
Still…the logical thing to do would be to finish my work here and return to New York City. I’ve actually had a couple of job offers since I left my old position, so I could take one of those jobs. Slip back into the life that’s waiting for me.
The things is, those positions are basically carbon copies of the one I left. I’d be doing the same work—work I was fuckinggood at but maybe don’t have the edge for anymore. I’d rather train people to do their jobs better than tear away their livelihoods.
As if he senses my weak resolve, my brother says, “You know, bud…you could come back home and not work at Hidden Italy, as crazy as that sounds. God knows, you’ve got the brains in this family. You could probably find a job you could do from anywhere.”
“Nonna expects?—”
“She expects someone to run the place, and Nico will never leave.”
“And you?” I ask, surprised. I’d assumed he felt the same way as Nico. I’d assumed it, right up until this very minute.
“Me, I don’t know. But I don’t hate the business the way you do.”
“I don’t hate it either,” I say automatically. “Nonnowon it in?—”
“A game of cards. Yup. Crazy. And good for him and Nonna, they made a good run of it. But it’s been an anvil around your neck ever since you were ten years old. I know what that was like for you. All that responsibility. You never learned how to relax. How to have fun. But you’ve been having fun with Lucy.”
“And with you,” I say quietly.
Because it’s true, damn it. It’s been a while since we’ve spent this much time together, not just as brothers but friends.
My throat feels clogged with emotion, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Ah, he admits it,” Giovanni teases. “Maybe if you were nice to that girl she’d want to date you instead of publicly ridicule you.”
“What would be the fun in that?” I joke, but then I nod, conceding the point. “I’ll talk to her tonight. I told her I’d findher at the tree thing. Now, can I tell you my damn idea already?”
“Yes,” he says, “but I need a beer.”
“That makes two of us.”
He gets us both a drink, and then we discuss my thoughts, Giovanni getting as excited as I am. “We should definitely stock the Six-Pack Santa taffy,” he says. “It was a hit, so Portia’s making more of it. She’s even making them look like little six-packs.”
“Six-Pack Santa?”
Eyes twinkling, he says, “Your girl came up with the name.”
I smile at that. So Lucy liked what she saw, did she? I would hope so, because I can’t seem to stop looking at her. Or at those damn photos she took on the phone she won’t accept.
“You think she’d accept the cell phone as a Christmas present?” I ask.
“She didn’t like you sending her the phone because she’d already told you no. She wants to know you’re gonna listen, so no, you’re not giving it to her again unless she asks for it.”
“When did you get so wise?” I ask, kind of blown away. Giovanni’s always been so carefree and easygoing. I didn’t expect him to understand women like this.
“There you go,” he says with a half-smile. “Learning to listen already. That’s good, because I’ll only have to tell you once: you’ve gotta get her something more thoughtful than a phone as a Christmas present.”
“Like what?” I ask, surprised. “Jewelry?”
He snorts. “You ever seen her wear jewelry? She only wears earrings, and it’s always the same pair.”
“Maybe she wants a new pair.”
