From the hat down, p.36
From the Hat Down, page 36
Marcella took her hand and guided her toward the dining room, where several—maybe twenty, she estimated—people stood talking. Meg recognized some, but she didn’t recognize the kids that ranged in age from maybe five to twelve. They all turned when she approached, and one little girl bounced up and down, excited. Grace put a hand on the little girl’s head to quiet her and Marcella made a motion to continue talking as before. Grace gave Meg a grin and wave.
“Wait here,” Marcella said to Meg. She positioned her next to Grace, who gave her a quick hug.
“It’s good to see you,” Grace said. She’d inherited the Giordano body type, and she wore her hair long, pulled back into a ponytail. The little girl stared up at Meg, curious.
“Good to see you, too,” Meg said to Grace. To the little girl, she said, “Hi.”
The little girl smiled at her and took Grace’s hand.
Marcella glanced around, as if ensuring everyone was in their places, then she held the swinging door open and stuck her head into the kitchen. “Gina,” she said. “We’re one place-setting short on the big table. Can you take care of it?”
“Are you sure? I thought I counted right,” came Gina’s voice, and Meg’s heart sped up even more. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything.
“No, you missed one. There’s room at the end, next to you,” Marcella said and Meg wondered if she had acting experience, since she gave no indication that anything was afoot.
“Okay,” Gina said.
Meg heard other voices in the kitchen, including Mary’s, before Marcella stepped away from the door and motioned for everyone to be quiet.
The door opened as Gina came into the dining room. “Ma, I’m sure I counted right.”
Marcella shrugged. “You missed one.”
And at that, everyone yelled “Surprise!”
Gina started, shocked, as the adults clapped, whooped, and moved aside, revealing Meg. Gina stared. “Oh, my God,” she managed.
Meg grinned. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by.” Her heart practically slammed out of her chest at the sight of her. She started toward Gina, and then she was in Gina’s arms, Gina’s lips against her cheek, amidst more cheering and clapping.
“Oh, my God,” Gina whispered near her ear. “I cannot believe this.”
“I missed you,” Meg said as she pulled away to look at her. “I couldn’t wait.”
“And everybody knew?”
“Pretty much. Who knew your loud Italian family could keep secrets?”
Gina laughed. She hugged Meg again then reluctantly released her. “You’re right, Ma. I didn’t count right.”
Marcella leaned in and kissed first Gina on the cheek and then Meg. “But I did.” She winked. “We’ll eat in twenty minutes. Gina, why don’t you show Meg around while we get dinner out,” she said, her tone innocent. “She hasn’t been here in a while. Mary, I need your help in the kitchen.”
Mary gave Meg a double thumbs-up and followed Marcella.
Gina took Meg’s hand and led her back outside onto the front porch. She checked to make sure no one was with them, and she pulled Meg into a kiss, the kind that made Meg’s knees weak and spread heat down her thighs, the kind that made her think of sweat, bare skin, and rumpled sheets.
Gina stopped and cupped Meg’s face in her hands. “This is for real, right? You’re here and I’m not dreaming?”
Meg gripped her hips and pulled her close, then kissed her again, and Gina kept her hands on Meg’s face, and returned the kiss, her mouth both soft and demanding. And all Meg knew at that moment was the hammering of her heart and heat washing down her legs, the feel of Gina’s lips and tongue, and the warmth of her hands.
“Hey, horndogs,” came Mary’s voice from the door. “Dinner.” She moved away, laughter trailing after her. The screen door made a soft little bang as it closed.
Gina groaned against Meg’s lips. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“Good. We’ll talk about that later.” Meg gave her another kiss, but it turned into a few more until Gina finally pulled away.
“Dinner,” she said. “Or Mary will drag my cousins out here, too.” She grinned. “Drawback to a large Italian family. All up in everybody’s business.”
Meg laughed as Gina took her hand and led her back inside.
Chapter 35
Dinner with a houseful of Morellis and Giordanos was more like a gathering at a sporting event than a meal. Meg never understood how anything ever got resolved or discussed because a constant stream of laughter, shouting, and dozens of different conversations flew across the table, across the room, and bounced around the house from all different directions. Meg had learned after her first experience at a Morelli and Giordano meal to just sit back and go with the flow.
Luisa bantered mostly in Italian with her husband, Antonio, and Gina’s parents Marcella and Franco. The latter had hugged Meg harder than Mary had. One of Luisa’s brothers had come. Gino was at the table and two of his sons and one daughter had brought their families, which explained two of the younger children. Angelica had brought her son and daughter. Gina’s other sister Grace lived in nearby Davis, where her husband taught at the University of California. They’d brought their two daughters and son. Gina’s brother Tony sat at the opposite end of the table with his wife. All of the people plus the dogs rounded out the general cacophony of a typical Morelli-Giordano family meal.
Gina took a chair to the right of the head and Luisa sat at the head while Meg sat on Gina’s right and Marcella sat next to Meg, but the seating arrangements often shifted as people bounced around the table to talk to each other. Luisa cooked old-country style, which involved antipasto, a pasta dish, a meat dish, and myriad vegetable dishes. Luisa and her kitchen help had prepared baked ziti and fish as the main dishes.
Meg placed olives, cheese, and prosciutto on her plate as the antipasto dishes made their way around the table. Marcella went into the kitchen but returned with two fresh bottles of white wine, and she filled Meg’s and topped off Gina’s. She gave Meg’s shoulder a squeeze before she moved on to fill other glasses. Grace placed more bottles of sparkling water on the table, and those made their way around as well. Gina poured some into Meg’s water glass.
Several people took turns bringing dishes to the table and Meg wondered how many dishes Luisa actually owned. It was like being at the DR, the number of people Luisa was feeding today. After the main dishes and side vegetable dishes had been served, Franco stood with his glass and on cue, everyone quieted. He had lost weight since Meg had seen him last, but he was still built like an ex-boxer. Gina’s father had started his working life as warehouse staff, moving and stacking boxes. He had worked his way up to manager, and now he oversaw several different aspects of the company. Meg knew him as an amiable jokester who laughed even when the joke was on him, but Gina said he had a temper, too, though he rarely let it show. Meg saw parts of Gina in his smile and eyes, and when he sang, she heard where Gina had gotten some of her own talent.
He cleared his throat. “Welcome to all who share this meal.” He looked around the table at everyone. “And thanks to God that Gina is here with us. A little worse for wear—” he shrugged in his exaggerated fashion—“but we’ll take her.”
Snickers and giggles erupted.
“And bless those who could not be here. We hope they will be for the next one.” Franco raised his glass and grinned at Meg. “And a special toast to Meg, who has finally realized that Gina is her cross to bear.”
Several people started laughing and Meg smiled, embarrassed, feeling as if her heart might explode from the welcome, from what she saw in Gina’s eyes, from how it felt to feel Gina’s hand covering hers.
“God bless you, Meg, for coming,” Franco said. “A famiglia!”
“A famiglia!” came the response. Meg took a swallow of wine amidst the sounds of silverware on plates and loud conversations.
“Okay?” Gina asked, leaning toward her, a question in her expression.
Meg brushed a lock of hair away from Gina’s forehead. “I am so much more than okay.”
Gina brought Meg’s hand to her lips and kissed her fingers. “I know that feeling,” she said.
“Ah!” Luisa said from the head of the table, looking first at Gina then at Marcella. “Vedi, eh? Ecco l’amore!”
Marcella laughed and leaned over to give Meg a one-armed hug.
Gina grinned and caught Meg’s eye. “She said, ‘you see? That’s love.’” And she leaned in and kissed Meg on the left cheek while Marcella kissed her on the right.
“Wait,” Mary said from across the table. “How is it that Meg scores two Italian women in one night?”
Marcella made a gesture at Mary that started the other end of the table laughing. Meg laughed, too, thinking about Irene, trying to envision what she’d do in a gathering like this. Easy. She would never be at a gathering like this. She felt a little pang but she buried it and looked over at Mary.
“You had your chance,” Meg said, shaking her head sadly. “That ride from the airport. . .could’ve been three.”
Mary threw her napkin at Meg, who caught it and threw it back. Gina draped her arm around Meg’s shoulders. “Maybe you should’ve taken the long way home.” She quirked an eyebrow, which sent a little charge through Meg’s abdomen.
Mary made a “Please” sound in the back of her throat. “Whatever. Meg, are you sure you don’t have any long-lost sisters?”
“Sorry. None that I know of. And trust me. You do not want to go shaking the family tree, especially on my mom’s side.”
“Too many fruits?” Mary teased.
“I wish. Too many nuts.”
Marcella hooted with laughter and hugged Meg again. “Welcome back,” she said, and Meg felt like she might cry. Gina’s hand rested on Meg’s left thigh, comforting and arousing, and conversation and laughter filled the room. Meg covered Gina’s hand with her own and traced Gina’s fingers with her fingertips. Gina turned to look at her and Meg saw that first night they spent together in her eyes, remembered it like it was yesterday though Gina wore the last eight years in the laugh lines around her eyes and the more pronounced planes of her face.
“God, I missed you.” Meg gently squeezed Gina’s hand where it rested on her thigh, oblivious to their surroundings.
“I missed you back.” Gina leaned close and brushed her lips along Meg’s cheek, sending a lightning strike through Meg’s jeans.
“All right,” Mary shouted as others began clearing some of the dishes. Meg knew that someone in the kitchen had already started making espresso. “Story time,” Mary announced. “Mom, you wanna start? How is it that Meg is here with us this weekend?”
Cheers went up and Marcella and Mary together described the plan they concocted with Meg. Throughout, Gina kept one hand either on Meg’s thigh, her arm, or her shoulder. Meg draped her arm around Gina’s shoulders and leaned into her, caught in the moment, rekindling promises in the contact between them. At the story’s end, everyone applauded and Luisa entreated everyone to mangia even as Grace brought out a platter loaded with cannoli. Meg shared a cannoli with Gina and sipped on an espresso while she chatted back and forth with Luisa and Marcella, Gina interpreting for her grandmother.
And then Franco burst into song, an Italian ballad. When he was done Gina’s grandpa Antonio picked it up with a more rollicking tune that several people joined in on, including Gina. Meg’s breath caught as she listened to Gina’s sultry, blues-tinged alto caress the lyrics like a lover come home.
“Your ribs feeling better, then? Letting you take those deep breaths?” Meg asked with a flirtatious dig when Gina finished singing.
“Much.” Gina quirked an eyebrow playfully.
Meg took another bite of cannoli, trying to give herself something to do before she imploded under the influence of Gina’s voice, Gina’s laugh, Gina’s warm hand on her thigh.
“Gina,” Angelica called from the kitchen doorway. “Sing us a song.”
“Sì!” Luisa and Antonio said at once. “Una canzone!”
Gina shrugged and drained the last of her wine, as she had downed a shot of tequila ten years ago on stage at the River Rest. “Any requests?” She asked.
“Sing something for Meg,” Angelica said from the doorway.
“How long do you have?” Gina retorted good-naturedly, drawing a round of laughs. Gina looked at Meg and grinned. She began singing and it took two lines before Meg recognized Jewel’s “Jupiter,” which Gina turned into an acapella smoky blues grind that brought sweat to Meg’s bones.
“You make me so crazy, baby. . .” She arched her eyebrows at Meg and purred the chorus, grinning, her voice rising and Meg’s heartbeat matched an insistent throb between her thighs. Gina slid into the next verse, dropping her voice to a growl, noting that her hands were travelers that had crossed oceans and lands, but—and here came a plaintive sigh—they were too small on the continent of Meg’s skin. Mary whooped in appreciation and Franco pounded on the table enthusiastically. “Wandering, wandering,” Gina sang, though she changed the next lyrics to a little more PG-rated.
Meg swallowed a groan and blushed. Marcella reached over and pinched her cheek, laughing.
Gina leaned in and crooned, “oh, oh, Jupiter. . .you make me so crazy. . .” and Meg remembered ten years ago, standing in a crowd listening to Gina turn a cute country tune into a sultry, flirtatious groove that ran its nails down Meg’s back and left her aching in all the right places. Gina finished with animated accompaniment from the table. She let the last note fade in the heat Meg knew was emanating from her shirt. Marcella shrieked in appreciation and mock-fanned herself as everyone applauded, including Meg.
“Girl,” Mary said to Meg, “you’d be an idiot not to follow that home.” Her comment brought a flush to Meg’s cheeks, which only incited further ribbing and shouts. In spite of the teasing, she leaned in and kissed Gina on the cheek before she stood, bringing a nod of approval from Luisa.
“Everybody—” she started, gesturing with her hands for quiet.
Marcella and Mary shushed in tangent and all eyes turned to Meg, expectant.
“I just want to say thanks—grazie—to all of you here for your hospitality. And I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am to be here. But I am.” She turned her head and caught Gina’s gaze. “And I definitely don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am that Gina’s here with us. And still singing.” She reached down and Gina took her hand. Meg then addressed the rest of the group again, still holding Gina’s hand. “Thanks for welcoming me and for accepting me. I’m the luckiest woman on the planet right now.”
“Uh, excuse me,” Gina interrupted. “Actually, I’m the luckiest woman on the planet because you’re here.”
Everybody burst into cheers and clapping and Marcella hugged Meg yet again. Gina got up and leaned in close to Meg. “I’m going to help clean up. You want some more espresso?”
“If there is any, yes.”
“I’ll make an Italian out of you yet.” Gina smiled and brushed another kiss along Meg’s cheek.
For the next few minutes, Gina’s sisters monopolized Meg’s time in the living room until Gina returned with two more small cups. She handed one to Meg. “There’s more,” she told her sisters.
“Be right back,” Mary said. Angelica looked at Grace, who nodded, and Angelica went after Mary.
Meg sipped from her cup. Gina had already sweetened it the way Meg liked it, and she made an appreciative noise. One of Gina’s cousins ambled up to ask Grace something and Meg took another sip, enjoying the vibe in the house.
“I love your family,” she said over the rim of her cup.
“That’s because you don’t have to live with them.”
“You could say that about anybody’s family. And I didn’t grow up with much extended family.”
“I disagree. The ranch family is your extended family.” Gina smiled. “You don’t have to be related to someone to call them family.” She shrugged. “And not everybody in the vast Morelli network is comfortable with those of us who aren’t straight. But a lot are, and for that I am very grateful.”
“Me, too.” Meg watched as people started to leave. She checked her watch. It was almost nine.
“Tired?” Gina asked.
“A little.”
“Are you okay staying at my folks’ house?”
Meg remembered it, a sprawling California ranch style in which Gina’s parents had one wing and guests the other. “Yes.”
Mary returned, carrying her own espresso. “So you gonna crash at my place or at home?” she asked Gina.
“We were just talking about that.” Gina looked over at Meg. “The folks’.”
Mary shrugged. “Okay. Shouldn’t be too bad. It’s big enough that Mom and Dad probably won’t hear anything from your side of the house.” She gave them both an innocent look and a smirk. “Hopefully.”
Meg hid her smile behind the rim of her cup.
“I think you’re just jealous,” Gina said, teasing. “Want me to go to Wyoming and find you a girlfriend?”
“That’s actually not a bad idea.” Mary threw Meg a grin. “They seem to grow ’em right out there.”
Marcella moved into the conversation. “Meg, you must be tired.” She looked at Gina. “Where will you stay tonight?”
“At your house,” Gina said.
“Take the van.” Marcella handed her a set of keys. “Mary or Angelica will drop us off later.”
“Go, Ma,” Mary said. “Stayin’ out late.” She did a little hip gyration and Marcella laughed.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Marcella said. She gave Meg another hug and went back toward the dining room.
“Oh, by the way,” Gina said to Meg, “tomorrow is the Fourth and you’ll be inundated with Morellis and Giordanos again.”
Mary giggled. “Dad loves to grill on the Fourth. He likes showing off his grill skills. He starts around ten in the morning doing his prep and people start coming over around two. Then bunches of us go and watch fireworks. Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, you can get up on the roof and watch some from there.”
