Page 27 of Sister of the Bride

“Girls, there’s something I need to tell you,” Mom says.

Nonna sits straight up. “Now, Penny?”

Mom nods. She moves to the edge of the couch, like she needs her feet planted firmly on the floor for whatever she has to say. “I was going to take you to lunch after this and tell you, but I think what I have to say answers a lot of the questions you have right now.” She pauses and takes a deep breath through her nose, letting it out through her mouth. I recognize it as one of the calming techniques my mother picked up after Dad died. “Nonna and I have decided it’s time to sell the building and retire.”

The room is absolutely silent save for the growing ringing in my ears.

“I’m sorry, when you say sell the building, you mean sell ourhome? And close Marino’s?” I feel like I’m trying to speak Italian, a language that, despite my grandmother’s valiant attempts, I’ve never mastered.

“Well, I hope Marino’s can stay open. I’ve been talking to a restaurant management company that’s interested in acquiring it. They’d buy the building as an investment and continue to run the restaurant under their umbrella.”

Marino’s under someone else’sumbrella? It doesn’t even makesense. It’s been a family business for damn near a hundred years! And she’s already talking to someone about this? Without consulting me?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say, because I can form no other words.

“I’ve talked to a real estate agent who thinks we can get close to ten million for the building. That’s more than enough to take care of Nonna and meandthe both of you.”

I don’t know what’s more shocking—that mom just said tenmillionor that my entire life as I know it is about to disappear.

“But…why? Marino’s is…it’sours. It’s ourhome. Literally! I live there!”

“I know that. But running a restaurant was your father’s passion, not mine. I’ve done it for eight years because I loved him and I owed it to all of us. But it’s a hard, exhausting life, and it’s never going to get easier. Selling the building is the only way I can ever retire. It’s the only way Nonna can ever retire.”

“And in very fine fashion,” Nonna says as I gape at her. This is her beloved father’s restaurant. She’s lived in her apartment literally her entire life. How can she possibly want this? “Hey, don’t look at me like that. This was my idea. I’m old, and the stairs and the people…and with that kind of money, we can buy a cottage on Nantucket and I can live the rest of my life on the beach instead of kneading pasta dough until I die.”

I don’t want to be selfish, but also… “What about me? Mom,Imanage Marino’s. That’s my job. It’s my whole life! What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want!” she says, with the nerve to sound almost exasperated. “Pippin, I know Marino’s is your home and you’ll always love it. But it was never your dream either. And if I don’t sell it, you’ll stay there forever, trapped. You’re never going to leave the nest unless I push you out.”

“So you’resellingthe nest.”

“I am.” She’s resolute, that much is clear. This is not the opening of a discussion. This is an announcement. A press conference with no questions.

I look over at Polly, still standing there in eight thousand dollars worth of lace, looking stunning but very quiet.

“Polly?” I ask. I hope that on this, at least, we can still be a team.

“I really don’t know what to say,” Polly replies.

“Thank you!” Finally somebody is going to talk some sense.

“I’m really happy for you, Mom.”

My jaw drops. Sure, Polly hasn’t lived there in years, but how can she be fine with seeing our entire home, all that’s left of our father, sold to strangers?

“Pip, life is short. We know that. We learned it in the hardest way possible. The only thing you can do is live it the best you can. And for Mom and Nonna, this sounds like the best way to live.”

In my heart, I know my sister is right, but frankly I don’t appreciate Polly using my heart against me. And excuse me for not being completely zen about the total annihilation of my life as I know it. Polly has her PhD and a plan. She’s going to defend her dissertation, then find a job as a professor of art history. She’ll move in with Mackenzie and live happily ever after. But what do I have? No home. No job. And certainly no happily ever after, unless you count the fact that I’m not saddled to any of the chucklebutts I’ve dated in the past. That makes me pretty happy, I guess.

“This is absolute bullshit. You’re just throwing away one hundred years of family history for the beach,” I say, pointing at Mom. “What would Dad say if he were here?”

Before she can answer, I whirl on Polly. “And shame on you for using Dad to justify this insane expense. That’s not who you are. Seriously, eightthousanddollars, Polly?”

And before I can thoroughly lose it, I turn and bolt for the door just as I feel the scratch in my throat that tells me tears are en route. Because goddammit, I’m not about to cry inside this giant box of tampons that is a bridal boutique.

Newbury Street is now crowded with tourists and shoppers carrying bags from Burberry and Louis Vuitton. I turn to head home when I hear the tinkle of the bell inside Vow’d.

“Pippin Jane Marino,stop right now.”

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