“Take your break,” she says, pushing me out of the way and taking my place to help the next customer like a cog in her own well-oiled machine.
I head out front and take a seat on one of the benches outside the deli. I can smell the ocean not too far from here mixed with the marinara simmering in the kitchens, and the late afternoon light is filtered by the low clouds drifting past like leaves in a flowing river. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, releasing the tension in my shoulders.
“You’re way too pretty to always be so stressed, dollface.” Cousin Eddie steps out of the doorway to the restaurant next door.
“Do you stalk me or something?” I ask, tired.
“I live to melt all your troubles away,” he says, flashing a smile big enough to reveal his silver molars. “Come out with me tonight. We’ll dance, drink, be merry.”
“No thanks.”
“Come on,” he says, sitting next to me. The scent of his cologne is thick. “Give me one good reason why not.”
“I have plans tonight,” I say, relieved to have an actual excuse for once.
He squints in disbelief. “What plans? Like a date?”
“Yeah, like a date,” I say. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“You have a date!” Nona squeals, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. “Oh, thank God,” she says, walking out from Giovanni’s to hug me. “We were getting worried about you.”
Fred peeks his head out of the door. “Grace has a date?” he says. “With who?”
I’m sure my face is turning red, I’m so embarrassed. I wish I could shrink into a little ball and avoid their questions.
“So who is this young suitor?” Nona says. She nudges me. “Is he handsome?”
“Of course he is, mother,” Carmella says from the doorway to the deli. She and Fred, like two peas in a pod. “How pretty is our Gracie?”
“No way he’s hotter than me,” Cousin Eddie says, puffing out his chest.
“Who is he?” Nona asks again, beaming.
I don’t know what to say. I never dated much: I was always too busy with school to have a serious boyfriend, and then later, with my mom getting sick, dating wasn’t really a priority. “Tell us,” Nona urges again. “Give an old woman some vicarious fun.”
I smile. “Fine, fine. It’s a guy I met through that art job.”
“Fancy,” Carmella says as Fred demands, “Is he loaded?”
I hesitate, not willing to say too much just yet. I have no idea where things are going with St. Clair. “Relax with the questions! It might just be one date, you guys.”
Fred laughs his full bellied laugh. “So that’s a yes.”
Nona puts her hand on my forearm. “Do you like him?”
I look at the ground so they can’t see how much. “Yeah,” I say. “But I am worried about tonight. I think he’ll take me somewhere fancy, but I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Is that it?” Nona cries. “I have just the thing. Come.” She tucks her arm through mine and steers me towards her apartment down the block.
“But my shift—” I protest.
Nona tuts. “Carmella will fix that, won’t you? Everybody else, back to work!”
Her short, seventy year old legs are surprisingly swift, and soon we’re up in the di Fiore’s big, bright apartment that covers two floors, the one they bought back when North Beach was just a run-down immigrant neighborhood, and not the fashionable place it is now. They could get millions if they sold it, but Nona won’t hear of it: this is her home.
“This trunk was my mother’s,” she says, fishing a trunk out of the closet. It looks like it’s at least as old as she is. “She died young, like yours, poor dears.” Nona opens the lid and reverently pulls out a dress swathed in plastic wrap, like the kind dry cleaners use. “This was a gift from her for my twenty-fifth birthday. I was in a new country, with a new husband, and I barely knew the language. Walking down the street, I felt like everyone could tell I was just a girl from a small village in the countryside. But this dress…this dress made me feel like I belonged.”
I hold my breath as she unzips the plastic and ceremoniously reveals the contents: a timeless navy blue dress in thick luscious fabric, with detailed stitching.
I almost gasp. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Gucci,” she says. “Back when nobody knew who that was, of course. My mother got it for me in the fanciest store in Rome. She said I needed the best for my new life in America. It’ll be perfect on your trim figure.” She holds it out to me. “A bit shorter on your long legs, but I think you can stand to show off those gams.”
“I can’t…” I pause. It’s so lovely – and it means so much to her. “This is yours.”
“Why not?” Nona laughs and pats her belly. “Like I’ll be wearing it anytime soon. Too much pasta. It’s too late for my Carmella, too. But you, you still need a dress like this.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, tears brimming behind my eyes.
“You did tell me he was handsome, yes?” She digs around in the trunk and comes up with some dark heels that she sets on the floor, and then she walks over to her jewelry box and gives me a pearl brooch and pearl earrings. “You’ll look perfect.”
She reaches up to pile my hair on top of my head. “Wear it up,” she says. “Let me help.”
I let Nona dress me up. With a belt, the dress fits like a glove, and does indeed highlight the figure I inherited from my mom.
Nona does my make-up too, fussing over my eyes in front of her antique vanity. “Your mom would be so proud of you, following your dreams like this.”
The tears are back, and I try to keep them in since I don’t want to ruin all Nona’s hard work on my eyeliner. “Thanks,” I manage.
“You’re looking more and more like her every day,” Nona says and my heart fills with bittersweet joy.
“I wish she could see it,” I say, a lump in my throat.
“She can,” Nona says firmly. “Now, open your eyes.”
I open my eyes and see…me, but a version of me I didn’t know I could be. Glamorous, but understated, just like my mom was. “Wow.” My hair is up in a loose bun with tendrils falling down to frame my face, my make-up tasteful, the dark shading around my eyes highlighting my hazel irises. “I look like Audrey Hepburn,” I say.
“You’re just beautiful.” Nona beams. “Like your mother.”
“Going to one of her art parties in the city,” I say, remembering watching her get ready, curling her hair, picking out a dress and shoes.
“She always had handsome suitors, too,” Nona says and winks at me.
“Thank you, Nona. You are my fairy godmother,” I say and hug her. “And not just tonight.” I kiss the top of her head. “Your mom is proud of you, too.”
“You sweet girl,” she says and squeezes me closer. “And this man better not try any funny business or I’ll fold his bones like gnocchi.”
CHAPTER 6
I get to Hakkasan at 7:50. I don’t want to be early, in case he is and he thinks I’m desperate, so I wait outside. But then I decide that if he isn’t early and he arrives and sees me standing out here doing nothing, he’ll think that’s weird. Get it together, Grace. My hands are shaking and I have butterflies in my stomach. I’m so not equipped for this. When was the last time I was on a date?
San Francisco evenings are always the coldest, as the ocean breeze comes inland and brings the fog and thick sea air. Union Square shoppers hurry by with their Neiman Marcus and Prada bags, and tourists take photos in the square. I didn’t have a jacket that went with Nona’s vintage dress, so I’m sleeveless and chilly.
I go inside, taking the elevator all the way up to the top floor. The doors open and it’s like I’ve been transported into another universe. Moody blue lighting emanates from blue panels in the walls, overlaid with metal panes that have Eastern shapes cut out like stencils. The effect is stunning.