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“What is it?”

“Pretending.”

Farah is onto something. The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves. Those lies keep us in jobs we hate, in marriages that suffocate us, and in places where we cannot thrive. It takes guts to change. If Italy is the great teacher, and if she’s going to be mine, I have to accept that there are no accidents. Professoressa Farah Adeel came into my life for a reason; beyond her knowledge of engineering and stonecutting, she is also in the mirror business. Reflective glass.

When Farah goes outside to take a call from the university, I open my notes app and write.

Uncle Louie andAunt Lil were coming over for the first time inmonths, according to my mother (but in truth, it wasyearstothe rest of us, who actually kept track of Mom’s feuds). Nothing was more important to me than healing the family rift once and for all. It was 2009, and it was time to move Uncle Louie off the Island.

I worked for Uncle Louie on weekends when I wasn’t in school. It was awkward when we ran into Mom when he picked me up in the morning. I was nineteen years old, lived at home, and had started my sophomore year at Montclair State that fall. I had hoped to transfer to Rutgers and live on campus, but I decided that my class schedule at Montclair worked well with my job at Cap Marble and Stone, and I wanted to do both.

My mother didn’t know that during Uncle Louie’s various internments on the Island, I would sneak down the block to see my aunt and uncle. I would visit, have a chat as Auntie served a latte and a slice of cheesecake. Sometimes I would stay long enough to watchGeneral Hospitalwith Aunt Lil or play cards with Uncle Louie. When the fun was over, I snuck out their kitchen door, walked through the Parthenon in the backyard, went down the alley to Grandma Cap’s house, swung through, checked on her as she watchedJeopardy!, walked down the street, and arrived at home in time for dinner. I always made sure to tell my mom I had visited her mom, because that part of my ruse was true.

Mom had done all the cooking for the reconciliation dinner because I was swamped with schoolwork deadlines. I agreed to serve as waitress and clean up the dishes afterward.

“Did you light the Sterno?” Mom asked.

“Yup.” I returned to the kitchen and lifted the pan of stuffed artichokes out of the oven and carried it into the dining room.

“Connie, fill the water glasses, please.”

“On it.” Connie was in her senior year of college at SaintElizabeth’s, our mother’s alma mater. College had turned my sister preppy; she wore fruit cocktail colors like hot pink and lime green together and refused to leave the house if there was so much as one curl in her hair.

“Giuseppina, please call your brother to the table.”

I went into the living room, where my brother was studying. Usually, no one was allowed in the all-white room, but for Joe, Mom made an exception, because he was in the thick of his second year of law school and needed a quiet place to study. It appeared the future of the Baratta family was in Joe’s hands, along with our reputation. My parents were proud of him, but there seemed to be more riding on my brother than just the family honor. Connie and I were proud of him too; we just didn’t understand why law school was so taxing and why he had been in a bad mood since he started. Wasn’t being a lawyer his goal? Wasn’t the pursuit of a dream supposed to bring you happiness, a certain lightness and joy? Joe was slumped over a book, making notes on a legal pad, when I interrupted his thoughts. “Joe, Mom sent me to tell you dinner is ready.”

He didn’t hear me. I repeated myself, loudly.

“Thanks, Jess.” Joe looked up at me, bleary-eyed. He followed me to the dining room and sat down next to Uncle Louie.

“Where’d you get the artichokes?” Uncle Louie asked.

“Billy on the Shore,” Mom said.

Their banter was way too cheery for two people who couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other as of yesterday. Was it me or were my mother and uncle overcompensating for their estrangement? Even Grandma Cap was giddy at the reunion of her children.

“Let’s raise our glass to my nephew, Joe, who is changing the course of our family history. The Caps used to bust rock andnow we bust books.” Uncle Louie went on. “And to Connie, with her internship at Lane Bryant on Fifth Avenue! Congratulations, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Uncle Louie.” Connie blushed. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal to the big girls who shop there.” Uncle Louie rapped the table.

“To Dad!” I held up a glass. “He has a new job at Nationwide Insurance.”

“For the record, I was always on your side.” Dad toasted the family and sipped.

“I’m proud of our family,” Uncle Louie said. “Nothing but good news. Jess is pulling double duty at college and in my office. She is the future of Cap Marble and Stone.”

“Sure, Uncle Louie.” It was hard to accept a compliment in front of Mom, because she hadn’t cut it at the company. I had hoped my part-time job wouldn’t be discussed, because you never knew what would trigger my mother to send Uncle Louie back to the Island. One slip or a bad joke and this Sunday dinner could derail our good intentions. “Thank you, but I’m just a runner in the organization.”

“You’re so much more. You have real artistic ability,” Uncle Louie insisted. “Have you seen her renderings?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” Grandma Cap said. “A family business should stay in the family.”

“We’re going for another century, Ma,” Louie assured her.

Grandma Cap joined her hands in prayer. “That would be marvelous. Continuity! I remember growing up in Carrara. When the men went up the mountain to work in the quarry, my mother kept the house and milked the goats. The Montini family provided milk and cheese to the village. Mamma worked as hard as any man. We were so poor, but we were proud of ourwork. I would look up at that mountain and know that my father and his brothers mined the marble that built churches.” My grandmother holds up her glass. “I’d like to make a toast, to my daughter, Philomena, and my son, Louis. I am proud you could put your differences aside for the sake of our family.”