CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DOMINIC
Sonoran Acres called at nine o’clock on Friday morning to tell me Donna had broken her left hip. I’d just left Melanie’s and was in my truck anyway, so I made a detour and headed for the hospital. I texted Gio from the parking lot, then shot off another text to Melanie, telling her my grandmother had a medical emergency and I needed Melanie to open Espo 2 at eleven. She answered back immediately, asking if there was anything she could do to help. I told her I’d be in touch as soon as I knew more, but for the time being I needed her to manage Espo 2. Then I stuffed my phone in my pocket and headed for the emergency room doors.
The cranky nurse who’d scolded me the night I escorted Donna home late after the friends and family event had accompanied the ambulance.
“What the hell happened?” I growled, knowing I sounded like a bear but not caring because my heart had been in my throat ever since I got that call.
The woman didn’t bristle over my tone. Instead she gave me a sympathetic look and explained that Donna had left her room in the middle of the night and walked all the way to the kitchen on the other side of the building. Evidently she’d been trying to bake something; mixing bowls and a variety of ingredients cluttered the counter. The night janitor found her sprawled on the floor in a pile of white flour, her left leg bent at a wicked angle. When she couldn’t even sit in a wheelchair and confusedly called for Leo, the nurse phoned an ambulance.
“Leo’s my grandfather,” I told her. “He’s been dead for thirteen years.”
My mind flashed back to the long ago night when Leo Esposito died in the darkness, mere feet away from the restaurant he’d dedicated his life to. It was after two a.m., and I was drunk when I finally stumbled home to find Gio crying alone at our grandparents’ kitchen table.
“Where were you, Dom?” he’d wailed through his tears. “Where were you?” Then he jumped out of his chair and hugged me fiercely, because he was frightened and because he was heartbroken and because I was his big brother.
“I know,” the nurse nodded. The tag on her purple scrubs said her name was Gloria. I’d missed that detail the last time we met. “She kept crying his name in the ambulance, begging us to call him and let him know what had happened to her.”
I peered down the corridor. A woman pushed a sad-eyed, old man in a wheelchair. He didn’t even look up as they rolled past. A security guard watched the empty hall.
“Is she down there?” I asked. “Can I see her?”
“The doctor’s examining her right now. It’s almost certain she’ll need surgery, but she also banged her head against a metal cabinet when she slipped, so they need to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion before she goes under general anesthesia.”
I slumped against the wall. I understood the risks of a woman Donna’s age going through major surgery.
Gloria patted my arm in comfort, and I saw the kindness in her eyes. “I know how devoted you and your brother are to your grandmother,” she said. “We all love that dear lady too.”
Only seconds later the doctor emerged with a status report. The fracture on the left hip would indeed require surgery; however before proceeding, the medical team had decided to wait twenty-four hours and keep Donna under observation for a head injury. Upon arrival she’d been frightened and confused. She kept calling for my grandfather and her children. The doctor observed that she now seemed lucid. She understood where she was and what had happened. Now she only called for Gio and me.
Gio arrived breathless in the middle of all this, and Dr. Martin summarized what she’d already told me.
“We’re getting her admitted and moving her to a private room,” the doctor said. “But you’re welcome to go back there and see her now.”
“Thanks,” I said brusquely and hurried down the hall, my brother right on my heels.
My grandmother had always been a small woman, but in a hospital bed, she looked so frail and frightened I nearly wept. For all intents and purposes, Donna Esposito had been a mother to me and Gio since we were tiny. She was our hero. It crushed us to see her weak and in pain.
“Hi, Donna,” I said softly as we approached her side. “It’s us. It’s Dom and Gio.”
For a split second she gave us an odd, puzzled look. Then she burst into a radiant smile. “My boys,” she cried and raised her thin arms in search of an embrace. “My little boys. Well, not so little anymore, but still my boys.”
We took turns hugging her with care, relieved to find that she really did recognize us. An ugly purple bruise bloomed on her right temple.
“Are you in pain?” Gio asked as he held her hand.
“Yes.” She winced. “I’m so thirsty. Can one of you boys bring me a glass of water?”
Gio glanced at me. “Should we ask someone first?”
“Probably,” I said, looking at the IV that stretched from Donna’s wrist.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and tenderly kissed her cheek.
I pulled a chair up to my grandmother’s bedside. She shivered, but I was afraid to pile more covers on top of her because of her broken hip.
She smiled at me and brushed a hand against my cheek. “You were always such good boys,” she said dreamily. “Leo never really forgave Marie for leaving you, but I couldn’t stay angry at her.” A cloud passed over her face. “I hate that she hurt you, though.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “We had you and Papa Leo. We had everything.”
She smiled and closed her eyes. She must have been exhausted. I didn’t know how long it would take before the attendants came to move her to a private room, but maybe it would be best if she dozed off until then. I was searching for a switch that would allow me to dim the lights when her eyelids fluttered.
“Is Stevie coming?”
“Steven?” I stopped cold at the mention of my estranged cousin’s name.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat and grew more animated. “That lady reporter said she would send him a plane ticket to come out for the opening of your new restaurant. I haven’t received anything from him since Christmas, but she said she could find him. I’d love to see my great-granddaughters. Stevie sent me the girls’ school pictures last year. So pretty. Just like Beth.”
Reporter. Steven. Beth. Girls.
The words ran through my head in a red-lettered marquee.
Everything was hopelessly connected; Leo’s death, the bankruptcy of Esposito’s, the scandalous drama of my cousin and his wife.
My cousin, Steven, eight years older, was tall, brash, and a mirror image of his father, both in looks and temperament. I idolized him before I knew any better. He’d never had much patience for two scrawny little boys who trailed after him in awe, but now and then he’d make a nice gesture like teaching us poker in the giant restaurant pantry or sneaking a pair of Italian ices to our table when we were supposed to be eating dinner. Steven was big and bold with a cutting wit, and it seemed to me like he could rule the world if he wanted to. There were always girls swirling around him like honeybees, but only one had ever stood out in my mind. Beth. Sweet, beautiful Beth. Steven and Beth had a tumultuous relationship in high school. They got married at age nineteen and bitterly separated six years later. They did eventually get back together, but I never knew if they stayed that way.
Steven’s father, Frank, Donna and Leo’s only son, was the de facto heir to our restaurant. But as Gio and I approached our teen years, the plans changed a little. Our grandparents were concerned about Frank’s gambling addiction and lackluster managerial skills. Plus they felt we were entitled to a share of the family business. I remembered the fights over this. There was Uncle Frank throwing a plate against the wall in the middle of Easter dinner and snarling about betrayal. There was my grandmother physically stepping between her husband and son when an argument in the middle of Esposito’s crowded dining room threatened to get physical. I always wondered if all that strain contributed to my grandfather’s stroke.
At any rate, Leo was gone, his widow was devastated, and Gio and I were too young to be of any real use running the restaurant. For a couple of years everything seemed to be normal. Both Gio and I were working in the kitchen at this point. Cousin Steven was in charge of the kitchen since his father didn’t often deign to set foot back there. It was Steven who taught us the most about food and the age-old family tricks that went into making a perfect pie. Sometimes he would talk about moving out of state and opening his own place, but I didn’t pay much attention back then. Steven was one of the best pizza chefs around, but by the time I reached high school and started working with him in the kitchen, I understood his star had already started to fall. He drank a lot. He started running an illegal numbers racket and squandering large sums of money. By this time he and Beth had a little girl and a very rocky marriage. But the restaurant was thriving, and there was a good future to look forward to for all of us. Or so we thought. We were wrong.
All these memories passed through my head in a flash as my grandmother waited for my answer about her eldest grandson.
“I’m not sure when Steven’s coming,” I answered as I very gently tucked the blanket around her. In her haze of pain and confusion, she probably didn’t remember that Steven and I hadn’t spoken in ten years, that if I showed up on his doorstep, he’d be as likely to punch me in the mouth as to say hello.
Gio returned with a nurse who offered Donna a few sips of water from a paper cup. A moment later a cheerful big fellow, who looked like he might play defensive lineman in his spare time, arrived to escort my grandmother up to her room. We followed, and then Gio pulled me aside while a nurse came into the room and gingerly checked Donna’s vitals.
“Tara will be here soon,” Gio told me. “She’s going to leave Leah with her mother and stay with Donna all day.”
I sighed. “We ought to be the ones standing by her bedside.”
“Nonsense,” my grandmother called in the saucy voice that I remembered from my childhood. It was a voice that tolerated no debate. “You boys have two restaurants to run. You don’t need to waste your time sitting here watching a clumsy old lady take a nap.”
I was going to say something, but she cut me off sharply before I finished the first syllable.
“I mean it, Dominic,” she warned. “Your lives shouldn’t be wasted mooning around a hospital. Go do what you need to do. And that’s an order from your grandmother.”
My brother and I looked at each other, each of us silently daring the other to argue. Gio grinned and shook his head. His silent message was right. There was no use in arguing with Donna Esposito. If she wanted us to leave, she wouldn’t relax until we were gone.
Half an hour later, when Gio and I were happy that our beloved grandmother was comfortable and in good hands, we walked out to the parking lot together.
“Surgery is gonna be rough at her age,” he commented.
“She’s a tough lady,” I said. “She’ll probably be square dancing in the Sonoran Acres cafeteria before Christmas.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. You heading over to Espo 2 now, or do you have time to grab some breakfast?”
I checked my watch. “Nah, I better go in. We’ve got to place food orders, and Melanie said she’d take care of the inventory count this morning, but I don’t like asking her to go above and beyond.”
We’d reached the spot where my pickup was parked. Gio’s car was parked just three spots away. He stopped behind my truck and drummed his fingers on the top of my truck’s tailgate.
“How is Melanie?” he asked carefully. “She stopped by Espo 1 yesterday to post the staff schedule and pick up some vendor records that never made it to the new place, and I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. I was busy dealing with a cash register issue.”
I didn’t want to get into an ethical conversation about Melanie, not out here in the parking lot of Phoenix Regional Hospital. I owed her an honest conversation about our status before I went ahead and discussed any specifics with my brother. Sometimes I got the feeling she didn’t want to have that conversation, that she was afraid of it. I hated the idea that she was uncertain about where I stood. The truth was, I would do anything and everything in my power to romance Melanie Cruz. I just wished we’d gotten together under different circumstances—where she wasn’t my employee, and we weren’t all walking the tightrope of a crucial business venture.
“She’s good,” I said casually. “Works hard, gets shit done. You know that. You’re the one who hired her.”
He seemed to be searching my face for something. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Tara told her about how everyone knows about the two of you.”
Actually I hadn’t heard that, because Melanie hadn’t said a word. But then again, neither had I. I hadn’t told her about the gossip in the kitchen or that Gio and I had already clashed on the topic.
“Sure,” I told my brother. “I knew that. But I’m not planning a staff meeting to examine the details.”
He made a face and exhaled slowly, looking at the ground. “I gave you a hard time, and I still think you deserved it, but I also think she might be good for you.” He looked up with an earnest expression. “No more secrets, okay, Dom?”
I thought about Donna’s comments about the past and her startling question about Steven. All this time I had no idea she’d kept in touch with him. But of course she wouldn’t have cut all ties to her first grandson, not even if he had helped destroy the family business.
Gio hadn’t been in the room for that conversation. Telling him now would just open up old wounds at a time when we needed to be a team more than ever.
“No more secrets,” I agreed and opened the driver’s side door. “Espo 2 is only ten minutes away from here, so I’ll stop by this afternoon to check on Donna.”
“Good.” Gio peered at his phone. “Tara’s on her way right now. She’ll let us know if there’s anything to worry about.” He looked up and smiled. “I expect Donna Esposito will be treated like a queen. You know Tara.”
I chuckled at that, and he waved as he departed. I watched him as he walked to his car. Only when he started pulling out of the parking space did I climb all the way into the driver’s seat of my truck.
I was relieved that the doctor seemed optimistic about Donna’s recovery chances, and I certainly breathed easier than I had when I walked through the hospital doors earlier this morning. Yet I still felt like there was a thunderstorm hovering directly overhead. My grandmother’s offhand mention of Steven and Beth had rattled me, but I knew that wasn’t the only source of this deep disquiet. No, there’d been something else, something about my grandmother’s words that had struck a strangely ominous note in my mind at the time.
As I turned the ignition, I was still bothered. Yet for the life of me, I couldn’t remember why.