Page 4 of Good as Gold
“It’s a wedding, huh? Do you have time to find a tux?”
“Heck no. I brought a jacket and a nice pair of khakis. This is Vermont. The dress code is dialed back a few notches.”
“Which brother is this? Alec? The one who owns the bars?”
Lissa’s memory is, as usual, bang on. “That’s the guy. I’m on my way to one of his bars now. It’s already ten o’clock here, and I didn’t tell them I was coming, so I hope they’re still there.”
“You didn’t tell themat all?” Lissa is incredulous. “You’re going to make a big entrance? Way to bring the drama.”
“Hey, it was last minute. But, yeah, they’re going to give me a whole lot of shit when I finally show my face. Fourteen years is a long-ass time. Fourteen years ago, for example, you were still very attached to your pacifier.”
“Sexy,” she says.
I smile at the memory of a tiny little Lissa and her chubby-cheeked face.
“Why’d you stay away for so long?” she asks. “You weren’t really too busy to go home. I’ve seen you spend entire weekends playingCall of Duty.”
“I don’t really know,” I say with a laugh. If you want to hear the truth about yourself, ask a teenager.
“Was it because of a girl?”
Another bark of laughter.
“It was, wasn’t it?” All of a sudden, her voice is bouncy and full of mischief. Like the old Lissa. “Who is this girl? Did she dump you?”
“Nobody dumped me.” It comes out sounding defensive. “Good effort, Lissa. But you’re not on the right track here.”
And, yeah, I just lied to a child. Oops. Therehadbeen a girl, but she’d never beenmygirl. And that’s just the way it is.
Still, it made coming home feel impossible. I didn’t want to see the happy couple together.
“Sure,” she says in a wizened, disbelieving tone.
“The GPS says I’m almost there, baby girl. Hope I can find this place. Wait—there it is.”
I shouldn’t have worried. The old mill building is brightly lit, and just a short distance from the road. This building had been abandoned when I was a teenager. I’d probably never looked twice at it.
“Well? First impressions?” Lissa demands.
“It’s cool. More impressive than in the pictures I’ve seen on the family chat.” The brick walls of the three-story renovated mill building rise handsomely against the nighttime sky. And the first-floor bar—the Gin Mill—is signed in cheerful neon and fronted by a crowded parking lot.
Nice work, Alec.
“Send me a selfie of your wedding outfit,” she says. “I need to approve it.”
“Sure, kid. Tell your mama hello for me.”
“I will. Have fun, Matteo! Be safe, okay?”
That’s something she always says to me now, and it breaks my heart a little to hear it. “Of course. Night, honey.”
We disconnect as I pull into a parking space. There are actuallytwobusinesses sharing this lot—the bar, and a coffee shop called the Busy Bean. The coffee shop is my sister Zara’s project. It’s closed now, though, so I’ll have to sample it tomorrow.
I climb out and lock the car. But then I stand there in the parking lot for another moment, just stretching my legs. And stalling. I don’t know what kind of reception I’m about to receive.
Fourteen years is a long time. I’ve missed so much. I have a niece and a nephew I’ve met only on FaceTime. Three of my four siblings are entrepreneurs of businesses I haven’t visited. And my youngest brother is a cop. I’ve never seen him in uniform.
When my mother asks me why I don’t come home, I’ve never given her a good reason. I always tell her that it’s hard work running a business. That the distance is too far. That I’m not good at taking time off.
