Page 98 of Better Than Gelato
Paolo raises a single eyebrow to show he doesn’t believe me.
“And don’t under any circumstances, tell Jake within hearing distance of his mom, that you thought her soup was too spicy.”
“His mom? No, it's his sister. Wai—” My eyes narrow. “Paolo, where did you learn all this? What happened?”
“Nothing!”
“Paolo…” I give him my most menacing look and finally he sighs.
“I brought Valentina down to meet my family last weekend.”
“Whoa! That’s a big deal.”
“It is. But after Diego…” he clears his throat and rubs his left eye. “You never know how much time you have. And the only thing that really matters is the people you love. I wanted Valentina to meet everyone.”
I nod. I understand this new feeling of urgency. “How did it go?”
“Worse than I could have ever imagined.” He takes a bite of his pasta.
“Oh no! Were they mean to her?” I ask.
“Yes, but in the Sicilian way.”
“What’s the Sicilian way?” I ask and drink the rest of my water.
“You make them think you like them and then use their false sense of security to find their weaknesses and go in for the kill.”
“Ooh, I don’t like the Sicilian way.”
“No one does,” he says, shaking his head. “My male cousins follow general rules of engagement. But my female cousins...they’re wily and ruthless and follow no rules.” Paolo stares into the distance like he’s contemplating a pack of hyenas.
“How is Valentina?”
“She’s speaking to me again, which only took five days and three dozen roses.”
I can see from his face how awful he feels. “I should have prepared her.” He looks me dead in the eyes. “Which is why I’m preparing you.”
* * *
On the bus to meet Jake’s sister, I review everything Paolo taught me and make a mental list of reasons this won’t be as bad:
1. There’s just one family member, not a coordinated attack like Valentina faced.
2. I’m on my home turf.
3. Jake is the nicest person I know, his sister can’t be that different.
4. She’s not Sicilian.
It’s a good list, and I cling to it as I walk to the restaurant. I see them before they see me. Naomi doesn’t look like Jake. She has red hair and fair skin. She’s wearing expensive jeans and a silky green blouse.
They both spot me and smile. And then Naomi looks over at Jake, sees his face lit up with happiness, and her expression changes.
I give Naomi my nicest smile as I settle into my chair. “You must be Naomi. I’m so glad you’re here. How was your flight?”
“Long. I sat next to a snorer on the second leg, and he slept the whole flight, no matter how many times I elbowed him.”
Elbows strangers on planes. Noted.
