Page 31 of The Summer You Were Mine

When the waiters began to bring the plates of antipasti, Ellie was so distracted by the energy in the room and her own thoughts that she wasn’t even sure if she was hungry.

However, as soon as she was passed a glistening platter of pesce crudo, it became quite clear that she was ready to eat.

The raw fish, likely taken from the sea that morning, was sliced so thin it was transparent and doused with fragrant olive oil.

There were also plates of lemony white anchovies studded with bits of parsley and a Sicilian dish of sliced octopus with tomatoes, celery, and Tarocco oranges.

Next came the pansotti in salsa di noci, wild-herb-and-cheese-filled pasta pillows with a rich sauce made of cream and walnuts.

There was spaghetti allo scoglio, with a mix of calamari, shrimp, and clams, and so many bottles of crisp Vermentino.

Finally, a cart filled with platters of whole roasted fresh fish rolled into the dining room, and the waiters methodically cleaned, portioned, and plated filets with roasted potatoes, Taggiasche olives, and pine nuts.

Ellie took bites of every dish, something she wouldn’t ordinarily do back in the States, but these were familiar flavors she grew up with.

Nothing made her nervous here unless she let her gaze drift up to Cris.

Ellie had never been so happy to see bottles of limoncello come out, signaling the end of the meal.

In three hours they’d eaten at least six kinds of fish and two kinds of pasta.

They’d listened to four speeches and one wobbly vocal performance of “ Come te Non c’è Nessuno ” by Maria Elena.

There had been laughter, tears, toasts, and an endless stream of emotions that made the whole affair feel less like dinner and more like riding down a class-five rapid on an innertube.

She watched her mother looking at her father, watched her father looking at Graziella, watched Cinzia looking at Cris, and tried like hell not to notice if Cris was looking at her.

By the end of the whole thing she was dizzy, full, and had a neck ache from swiveling her head back and forth.

As people started to get up from the table, Ellie knew she had to wait an appropriate amount of time before making her move out to the terrace where she could finally try to decompress, but first she had to make sure one person was happy.

“Grandma, I’m so sorry I got here late. I was so embarrassed,” she said, moving her chair closer to Graziella’s.

“But why, tesoro ? It happens. You don’t need to be embarrassed. No one even noticed.”

“You’re being sweet, but we missed the whole beginning of the night.”

“You didn’t really need to hear Ugo remind us for the hundredth time of how he met Simone in the army when the dinosaurs roamed the earth and they both had hair. Besides, you were here for the important part,” Graziella said. “By the way, you look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you, Grandma. These are yours.” Ellie held out the two thick chains.

“Ah. I’d forgotten. They are pretty, but it’s not the jewelry, tesoro mio . There’s something else behind those occhi furbetti of yours.”

“It must be the wine.” Ellie smiled. “And I don’t have naughty eyes.”

“Listen, my girl”—Graziella put her hand next to her mouth and whispered—“I’ve had a lot of wine in my life and it never made me look like that.” She grinned and took both of Ellie’s hands in hers. “I want you to know that no matter what, we all want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy, Grandma. I’m happy for you!”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll try this a different way. We can either be right and miserable or risk being wrong and happy. So, what I’m saying is”—she stood—“be wrong, Eleonora. Be very, very wrong.”

“Darling! We haven’t had the chance to catch up.

” Cinzia cruised by, touching Ellie’s shoulder.

Graziella made her way toward her ladies-in-waiting, leaving Ellie directly in Cinzia’s crosshairs.

She, too, was dressed for Italy, not California, in an emerald-green knife-pleated skirt and a black silk camisole, all cinched together with a black leather belt crowned with an enormous golden Medusa head.

Of course she likely kept the vintage Versace purely for visits home.

It was hard to imagine her rocking that particular item at the farmers market in Palo Alto.

Cinzia was an incredible woman; her ability to both raise a family and head up a successful dermatology practice gave her a graceful combination of a zero-fucks attitude and skin as thick as the leather on her belt.

If she had something she wanted to say to someone, she would hit them right over the head with it like she was splitting wood.

Ellie looked across the table where Cris stood chatting with Simone.

She stood up, facing Cinzia, and braced for impact.

“Yes! It’s really great to see you. What a night, right?”

“It’s beautiful to be around family, no?

We are all lucky to be so close despite the years, the distance.

We are always there for each other, don’t you think?

” said Cinzia, arching a sculpted eyebrow.

She pulled a long, thin cigarette out of a case in her handbag.

Ellie’s eyes widened as she set the cigarette between the tips of her index and middle fingers.

“You know I only smoke in Italy.”

“Of course,” said Ellie, stunned that the woman known for rejuvenating faces was spending her vacation worshipping the twin devils of sunshine and nicotine.

“Cris told me about your plan,” said Cinzia, blowing smoke out of her preternaturally smooth lips. “I hope it works for both of you.”

“I am confident,” said Ellie, which was not a lie. She just wasn’t sure what she had confidence in yet.

“He’s a good one, but too hard on himself. He’s a little bit like Odysseus—searching for something of his father before his soul can rest. But, between you and me,” she said, turning her body toward Ellie and away from the table, “I think he got a little bit lost while looking.”

“I just hope I can help him tell his story.” And fix mine, Ellie thought.

“That will be a great gift. What are we without our stories?” Cinzia gestured her cigarette toward the projection screen against the wall behind them. “Anyway, this will be interesting.”

“That’s for sure.” Her attention was caught by her father, so deep into a conversation with Cris that he was both squinting and rubbing his chin.

“You’ve become such a beautiful woman. But there’s a lot more to you than that, isn’t there? I hope you have every success with this.” She took another drag, her eyes narrowing.

“Thank you, Cinzia. That’s a huge compliment coming from you.”

“Oh, and one other thing—my son stood in the kitchen at his grandfather’s house for almost fifteen minutes staring into space when he got back from your meeting today.

” Cinzia jutted her chin in Cris’s direction.

“I haven’t seen him do that since he figured out the code to watch the R movies after we all went to bed. ”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “Oh, well, we don’t—I mean, I don’t…” she trailed off.

“Sure,” said Cinzia, taking a long drag on the cigarette. “But what if you finally did?”

Ellie felt heat come to her face again as she watched Cris’s mother turn on her perfect black stilettos and saunter out to the terrace, her green skirt swaying like a wave farewell.

Gio stopped rubbing his chin and gestured toward Cris. “As long as you can handle it, you should go for it. It’s not for everyone, that’s for sure. After reading through some of the stories in the book, I don’t think I could do it.”

“You don’t think I should be worried about that other Sports Illustrated stuff?” Cris asked.

“That’s the last thing to worry about. It shouldn’t matter to you what people think. What matters is if you are proud of what you do. Hai capito? ”

“Yeah. I think you’re right. I can’t live with myself if I don’t believe in what I’m doing.”

“ Bravo. That’s what made you a great athlete and what will make you great at anything else you choose to do. Integrity is not a uniform you put on sometimes. It’s in you or it’s not. And since I know who raised you, I know you’ve got it,” Gio said, resting his hand on Cris’s shoulder.

“Kind of wish he were here to ask him what he thinks sometimes, you know?”

“I know. I miss him, too. But I think we know what he would say,” Gio said with a smile.

“‘Do it, but make it count.’”

“Exactly.” Gio turned to watch Peggy as she drifted toward the terrace but quickly refocused.

“Thank you. It means a lot,” Cris said, looking behind Gio. “I guess you probably need to get out there.”

“Ah. Yes, I probably do,” Gio said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If I make it.”

Cris watched him walk toward Peggy on the terrace.

In the dim light he could see Gio stand next to her at the railing, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

He wondered if it was worse to watch your parents slowly fall apart into anger or to never see them together again when one was taken from the other.

It was a tough call. He turned to look at Ellie sitting at the table.

She was reading something on her phone, her face tight in concentration. Did she ever take a night off?

“Is this seat taken?” Cris pulled out a chair next to her and waited.

“No. Go ahead,” she said, not lifting her eyes from her phone.

“If you’re busy I can—”

“No, sorry. I can read this later,” she said, placing it on the table face down. She blinked up at him as though she just realized he was sitting there. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Are we on the record?” He laughed. She didn’t.

“I don’t know because I don’t know how you’ll answer.”

“Fair. Shoot.”

“Why are you reading the book about the paramedic?” she asked.