Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“She’s a keeper,” Dad says.
“Thanks,” I respond.
The women return to the table, Sofia carrying the pie in her hands. She sets it down on the table in front of me, taking her seat. I guess that means I’m in charge of cutting it.
I reach for my knife, slicing the pie into eight even pieces. I use a fork to dig them out of the dish, since I haven’t been provided with a spatula. No one seems to mind as I distribute one slice to each person.
“This is delicious,” Sofia says.
“Cisco loves pie,” Marlena responds with a wink.
My father doesn’t take offense. Marlena walks on water. He would go to hell and back again for her in a heartbeat, and I wonder if I could have the same relationship with Sofia. In time, maybe we’ll sit down to eat in our own home, and she’ll joke with me about my taste for sweets. Maybe we’ll have a few children of our own, and we’ll send them to private school, and have extravagant birthday parties for them. I’m so caught up in the fantasy that I almost don’t notice Uncle Gio.
He arrives looking much more formal than usual. Instead of his habitual uniform of slacks and a loose button-down shirt, he’s wearing a suit and tie. I can see immediately that he’s dressed up for the occasion, which means he put some thought into it. He approaches my father as if they haven’t seen each other in days, even though I know they had a meeting earlier this afternoon.
“Gio,” my father says, standing up.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Uncle Gio says.
“Not at all,” my father responds. “Join us for dessert.”
Gio glances around the table, as if only just realizing who is in attendance. I know that’s outlandish though, he’s inserted himself into this family dinner with one purpose in mind. He’s interested in meeting Sofia. I told him all about her, and he wants to see for himself.
“Uncle Gio, this is Sofia,” I say.
Sofia is momentarily stunned. I glance over and see that her eyes are wide as saucers, her lips parted ever so slightly, showing that she’s struggling to breathe. Gio can have that effect on people. He’s large and rough-looking, the perfect gangster but not such a great dinner companion. But all that is window dressing. I know him to be the kindest, most loyal human being in the world.
I put a hand on Sofia’s knee, squeezing gently to reassure her. She springs to life, standing up to offer Gio her hand.
“Hello,” she says.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gio responds, having a seat.
I offer him the pie, but he shakes his head. He’s got only one thing on his agenda, and it’s not a slice of pecan.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say the same about you,” Sofia replies hesitantly.
Gio laughs, which is a good sign. “That’s okay. He was probably saving the best for last.”
The whole family laughs, and I can see Sofia relax. Gio might look scary, but he’s easy to be around if you can see past the gruff exterior. We fall easily into a generational back and forth, where Dad and Uncle Gio tell stories about concerts they went to in their youth. Marlena teases them about being ‘old,’ something that no one else in my father’s orbit would dare to attempt. But it’s all in good fun.
“I’m beat,” Marlena says finally, after everyone has finished their pie.
“Go to bed,” my father suggests.
“It was really nice to meet you,” Marlena says to Sofia.
“Likewise,” Sofia agrees.
“I think I will call it an early night,” Marlena decides, getting up.
My father rushes to help her, guiding her toward the staircase before coming back to join us in the dining room. I half expect him to continue probing Sofia for information, but he doesn’t.
“Why don’t you kids take off?” he suggests.
“Do you want help with the dishes?” Sofia asks.
My father laughs. “This is a good woman,” he tells me. Then he turns to her to answer her question. “Gio and I can take care of it. Go, be young.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the opportunity provided.
I don’t think Dad and Uncle Gio are actually going to do the dishes, but they may clean the table. The meal went surprisingly well, and I’m thrilled at the prospect of getting Sofia all to myself.
“Do you want to see the upstairs?” I ask her.
She slides back from the table, standing up. “Sure.”
I lead her out of the dining room and for the first time since meeting my parents, we find ourselves alone. I’m dying of curiosity, but I keep my mouth shut until we mount the stairs. The walls have ears here in the Corello compound, and I don’t want my dad to think we’re talking about him.
But as soon as we reach the second-floor landing, I have to ask. “So, what did you think?”