by J. J. Murray
“Do you like fish? Lamb? Veal? Beef?”
All of the above! “Beef mostly.” And occasionally buffalo.
“Oh, I would make you beef brasato with pappardelle and mint.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“I braise beef shank in red wine and mint pappardelle. You will gobble it up.”
I smile. Rinaldo’s sharp. “Pappare,” the root word of “pappardelle,” means “to gobble.”
“So, Rinaldo,” I say, “When will you make me this spectacular meal?”
“I can see you in … September. No, Roberto has his wedding then. She is a very stylish, very expensive woman. Are you an expensive woman?”
What a question! “No. I live frugally.”
“I already like you very much.”
And I’m beginning to like him. What am I doing? Why am I using Roberto’s phone? I have a phone. It’s in the purse under my arm. “Hey, can you call me back on my phone? I need to give your brother his phone.”
“Sure.”
I give Rinaldo the number. “Call me back, okay?”
“I will. Bye, Giovanna.”
I hand Roberto his phone. “Your brother’s not dyslexic, is he?”
“No. Why?”
“I don’t know if he wrote down the number or not.” I grip the phone. Call me now, man. “Thank you, Roberto.”
“You are welcome, Giovanna.”
I smile at Nonno.
Nonno smiles back.
“Um, Roberto, is there anything I should know about your brother? I mean, he isn’t married either.”
“Oh, he has had offers, but he turned them all down,” Roberto says.
“Women asked him to marry them?”
Roberto shakes his head. “I said that wrong. He has made offers, but …” He shrugs. “He has no luck.”
I smile. “I needed to know that.” Can two unlucky people get together and make their own luck? “Thanks again, Roberto. And send me an invitation to the wedding anyway, okay?”
“I will.”
I kind of, well, skip over to Nonno, and we leave the law offices for the parking garage across the street. “Nonno, will you drive us home? In case Rinaldo calls.” Which he should have already done. Did he forget my number?
Nonno shakes his head. “You know I do not drive that tank of yours.”
“It’s not a tank,” I say. “Your Caddy was five inches wider and two hundred pounds heavier than my Wagoneer.” He had a 1971 Cadillac De Ville he rarely parked properly.
“But the Cadillac did not sit so high,” he says.
“I’ll drive,” I say, “but if Rinaldo calls, I’m pulling over.”
“As you should.”
Before we get to Route 113, I pull into a convenience store parking lot.
“You need something from the store?”
I shake my head.
“Then why are we stopping?”
“You know I don’t get cell service once we get into the mountains,” I say. “It’s a ten-minute dead zone.” And it’s almost one-thirty. If Rinaldo has to be at work by two …
“So we sit here for ten minutes,” Nonno says. “And when he does not call, we have wasted ten minutes of gasoline and our lives.”
I hold my phone in front of me. “He will call. He said he would.”
“He said he would call, yes?”
I nod.
“Did he say when he would call?”
“No.”
“So maybe he will call you later after work.”
“Why are you in such a hurry?” I ask.
He laughs. “I am not the one who is in a hurry.”
I hate it when he’s right. I stare at the phone. Ring! “I’ve had no service calls, and you only have a clock to reassemble. We have no reason to hurry back to Kingstown.”
“What do you know of this man?”
“He’s a chef at a restaurant.”
“Do you know his age?”
“No, but I’ll find out when he calls, okay?”
“If he calls.”
The phone rings.
I smile at Nonno, who sighs and looks away. “Hello?”
“I will see you on October sixteenth!” Rinaldo shouts.
He sounds as if he’s in a wind tunnel. “Why are you shouting?”
“I am on my way to work, and I have the windows down!”
His BMW’s AC is shot, too. Figures. “Please pull over so I don’t have to shout.”
“One moment.”
I don’t hear music playing, so his sound system may out of commission, too.
“You live in Calhoun?” he asks.
“No. I live outside Kingstown in Gray County, about an hour from Calhoun.”
“And are you the queen of Kingstown?”
I smile. “No.”
“But you are in need of a king.”
I’d even settle for the second cousin of a duke. “Let’s get your car fixed first.”
“You wish to win my heart through my car?”
It does sound ridiculous. “I have to meet you first.”
“Okay, I will stop flirting,” he says.
No, don’t! “How old are you?”
“Such a rude question, Giovanna. How can you ask me this?”
I smile more broadly. “Just returning the favor.”
“I am forty-four. Am I too old for you?”
“No, not at all.” I cover the phone. “He’s forty-four, Nonno.”
“An older man,” Nonno says. “A wiser man, too, I hope.”
“Are you a wise man, Rinaldo?” I ask.
Rinaldo laughs. “I try to be.”
Good answer.
“May I call you on occasion?” Rinaldo asks.
“Yes, and you don’t have to stop flirting.”
“Okay, I will continue to flirt. What are you wearing?”
I can’t answer that with Nonno listening! “Rinaldo, my grandfather is listening to everything I say, so …”
“I am sure you look spectacular,” Rinaldo says.
I should. I was dressing up to look spectacular for your engaged brother. “How late do you work?”
“Two to midnight, sometimes later. How late do you work?”
“Tomorrow may be a long day for me. I’m hauling six tractors and a pickup truck to my shop so I can restore them.”
“Are all the women in Kingstown like you?”
“No.”
“Then you are unique. I cannot wait to meet you.”
A man wants to meet me. “Check your oil often, okay?”
“I will walk or take the bus to work from now on so my car will—”
“No!” I interrupt. “You could crack the cylinder rings, and the valve guide seals will dry out if you leave your car sitting for too long.”
“I have no idea what you just said.”
I smile. “It’s not good to let a car sit for a long time. Drive it daily but don’t overdo it.”
“Okay, okay. I will baby it.”
“Right. Are you sure you couldn’t come visit me sooner?” Like tonight. Tonight would be an excellent night. I’m wearing my little black dress, and I plucked all my gray eyebrows.
“I am sure, but we can talk often.”
“About that,” I say. “I sometimes don’t get cell phone reception where I live. I have to walk to a buffalo field to get my messages.”
“A … buffalo field.”
“Yes.”
“You are truly a country girl, then.”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“No, no. It is not a problem. Are you on Facebook?”
I was never into any of that madness. “No.”
“Tell me what you look like.”
I wish I looked like someone famous. Nonna said I looked like Gina Lollobrigida, but I don’t think so. “I’m five-six and I have long black hair, hazel eyes, a Sicilian nose, and a very dark tan.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Rinaldo?”
�
�I am picturing your hazel eyes.”
“Is it a good picture?”
“Yes. Oh, I am not on Facebook either except on the Rome Savoy Restaurant page.”
“I’ll look you up. When’s the best time to call you?”
“Oh, anytime, and if I do not answer, leave me long messages. I like the sound of your voice.”
“I like yours, too.” Oh, we sound like we’re thirteen! “My nonno is looking hungry, so I better go. Enjoy your work.”
“I always do. Hope to hear your voice soon, Giovanna. Bye.”
I put my phone away, wipe my sweaty hands on my dress, and look at Nonno. “He’s coming to visit me in October.”
“I heard.”
“And he’s making me beef brasato.”
Nonno frowns. “He will not make this for you at your cabin.”
“Why not?”
“I must meet him first to see if he can really cook. He will cook for you in my kitchen.”
“Okay.”
“You may drive me home now.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Nonno laughs. “Do not be sorry for being happy.” His eyes sparkle. “You have had a good day, Giovanna.” He closes his eyes. “My nonno is looking hungry, she says. What a way to end a conversation.”
“I haven’t had a lot of practice, you know.”
“You are a fast learner,” he says. “Wake me when we get there.”
Once we get past the “dead zone,” I open Google on my phone and say, “Rome Savoy Restaurant.”
“You should not play with your phone and drive,” Nonno says. “Give me your phone.”
I hand him the phone. “Go to the Rome Savoy Restaurant Facebook page.”
He squints at the screen. “I have clicked on something. Oh, it is an Italian restaurant.”
“Click on the pictures.”
“Which one? There are so many.”
“Well, scroll down until you see someone who looks like Roberto.”
It is far too quiet for about a minute.
“Nonno? Did you find him?”
“He has happy eyes, Giovanna,” he says. “Oh, and such thick facial hair. I did not know chefs could have beards.”
Happy eyes, beard. “Is he tall?”
“Oh yes. I think he is taller than Roberto is. A fine head of hair, too.”
“Does he have a nice …?”
“He has a nice smile,” he says.
“I meant, does he have a nice … physique?”
He puts the phone between us.
“Nonno, tell me.”
“He must be a very good chef.”
I glance down and see a huge man in a white apron and chef’s hat.
Rinaldo is a big man.
“So he taste-tests his food,” I say. “Nothing wrong with that. You do it.”
“I like him very much, Giovanna,” he says. “I will not be the largest man in the room anymore. You have my permission to like him.”
October can’t come soon enough.
And I will have every square inch of Rinaldo’s BMW memorized by the time he gets here.
Tuesday, June 13
Chapter 20
Early Tuesday morning before the sun crests Coldwell Mountain, Nonno and I ride across Gray Creek to collect Mr. Simmons’ tractors while Fernando and other ranch hands unload buffalo heifers and their calves to a waiting Jack and the donkeys. At first, Jack races around the buffalo as if they’re cows. When one heifer snorts and stamps at him, Jack tears off, locates “his” cows, and keeps his distance.
I knew Jack had some sense.
The donkeys don’t. They don’t even budge, braying at the tops of their lungs.
After finding the tractors, most of which are in far worse shape than the Farmall Cub was, I map out the best way to collect them. We use the winch to pull a gray 1936 Case CC, a red 1949 Massey-Harris, and an orange 1952 Allis-Chalmers onto the trailer.
We have a scary moment when the Jeep spins out on the other side of the creek. I have to back up and go forward several times before the Jeep’s tires find purchase while the creek splashes against the trailer behind us.
“We should have only done two at a time,” Nonno says.
“We’ll make it.”
After unloading the three tractors behind the shop and eating lunch, we collect a green and yellow 1945 Oliver, a red and white 1957 Ford 981, and the Farmall Cub and have no trouble getting through the creek. Once we unload them at the shop, Nonno wipes his brow and shakes his head.
“I am done,” he says.
“Your hip?” I ask.
“My body,” he says. “I am so out of shape.”
“I can get the truck by myself,” I say.
“I will …” He sighs. “I will begin assessing these tractors.”
“Not in this heat, you won’t,” I say. “They’re not going anywhere. Go take a nap.”
He nods. “I will.”
As I’m winching the Chevy up the trailer ramp an hour later, Fernando walks up the hill to the barn.
“Need any help?” he asks.
“I’m good,” I say. I lock down the winch and snake chains through the truck’s front and rear axles, securing them to the trailer. I wipe off my hands and look down on the herd. “How many did you bring?”
“All the heifers and their calves,” Fernando says. “They will fatten up nicely here.”
“I’m sure they will.” I hop off the trailer and see lights on in the homestead. “Who will be staying with them?”
“I will,” Fernando says. “I have been doing some house cleaning. It is very nice inside with three bedrooms. I will bring my family here as soon as I have enough money.”
“I’ll bet you’re happy about that.” I pull on the chains to make sure they’re secure.
“Yes and no,” Fernando says. “Yes because I will be with my Elena and Beatriz. No because Beatriz will have to go to school here. She speaks little English, and some of the people in town are …”
“Close-minded, bigoted, and living in the nineteenth century.”
He nods.
“I know how hard it can be, but I’ll help her. Folks are folks for the most part around here. They’ll accept her in no time.”
“You are accepted because your family has been here many years, Gio,” Fernando says. “This place does not accept outsiders with open arms. They say I have an accent, but they, too, have accents. They do not speak the same English I learned in school. They are outsiders to me.”
I start up the Jeep, turn on the AC, and close the door. “We tolerate our hippies, don’t we?”
“I do not want my daughter to be tolerated,” Fernando says. “I do not mind being tolerated, but she is only a child.”
“She’ll get through it. I did.” I smile. “Need any help with the housecleaning?”
“It is already very clean inside,” Fernando says. “It seems Mr. Simmons lived outside for most of his life. I am leaving everything as it is until my wife arrives. She will probably make changes. There is good sturdy furniture. The floors are solid, and the plumbing is good. Cold, fresh water.”
“You didn’t by chance happen to come across a huge silver ring? About the size of a quarter. It was Mr. Simmons’ wedding band.”
“No.”
“Well, if you do find it, let me know.”
“I will. What should I do with his clothes?”
I smile. “When Elena gets here to cook for you, you will need those clothes.”
“Ha! You think I will get that big?”
“You can only get bigger,” I say. “So, is Big John going to be my neighbor soon?”
“Tomorrow morning.” He smiles. “And I will not miss him.”
I see Jack romping through the fields chasing a cow. “How well do cows get along with buffalo?”
“Without any bulls present, they should do fine,” Fernando says. “It may take a few weeks for the cows to get used to the buffalo smell, but in time they will graze together.” He l
ooks toward Motts Mountain. “I heard you saw wolves.”
“Three, but they were kind of scrawny. Just listen out for the donkeys and have your rifle loaded.”
“I will.”
“You have food for Jack, right?”
He nods.
“I’m happy you have a home for your family,” I say. “And I can’t wait to meet them. Take care, Fernando.”
“You take care, too.”
When I get back to the shop, I snack on some leftover carne alla pizzaiola and frittella while putting another coat of fire engine red on the Farmall outside the garage. It dries quickly in the heat, so I start it up.
Nonno comes out of the garage waving his arms in the smoke. “Too much smoke and much too loud! It is burning oil! Have you checked the piston rings?”
“They’re fine.”
“They are not fine!”
“I know what I’m doing, Nonno. I haven’t cleaned the carburetor on purpose. Mr. Simmons wanted to make the parade memorable, so it has to smoke.”
“No one will be able to see the parade!”
Most people are too drunk to see the parade anyway. “After the parade, I will make the engine sing.”
“Have you spoken to Rinaldo today?” he asks.
“He’s probably working.”
Nonno shuts off the tractor. “Oh, my ears. Yes. Rinaldo is probably working. No need to call him even if you can get a good signal out here. But I will mind my own business.” He squeezes my arm and smiles at the truck. “We will work on that beautiful Chevy tomorrow. Get some rest.”
After he leaves, I pull out my phone and call Rinaldo.
I have to leave a message.
“Rinaldo, I hope your day has gone well.”
That is so lame!
“Let me start over. Rinaldo, I am beat. My grandfather and I hauled out those tractors and that Chevy, and I’ve just finished painting a tractor. I’ll be on my way to my cabin on Motts Creek in a few minutes. I didn’t tell you I lived in a cabin, did I? It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere, but it’s peaceful. I don’t have AC, so I’m kind of sweaty there, but the breezes are heavenly.” I look toward the west. “Can you see the sunset? Let me describe my sunset to you …”
Wednesday, June 14 (Flag Day)
Chapter 21
Lovie wakes me with a paw and a whine.
It is six o’clock exactly.
