It would be like old times. Just the immediate family, no Catherine, no April. Even Nonna was having dinner next door with her friend. Which was good, because it would be a lot easier to talk without having to explain the convoluted evolution of the trust. Hell, it would’ve taken all night. And the women all understood they weren’t being slighted.
“What the hell?” Luca said, poking his head into the living room. “Dom’s here on time? Call the Times.”
“On time?” his mom called out from the kitchen. “He was here early.”
Tony stopped in the foyer. “What happened? You sick? In trouble? Did you get a girl in trouble?”
Dom wanted to line up his brothers and slap them both silly. “Shut up,” he said, and went to the kitchen. “Ma, I’m gonna pour some Chianti. You want some?”
She patted his cheek and smiled at him as if he was still ten, even though she had to look up to meet his eyes. “Get me and your father some iced tea. And you boys don’t drink too much until after we talk.” She looked at Tony, then Luca, then at the doorway that led to the dining room.
Luca moved first. “I’ve got the silver.”
Tony didn’t say a word, just went to get plates and salad bowls. Dom headed for the wet bar and poured some wine for the three of them.
“Ten bucks says chicken parmesan,” Luca said, doling out settings.
“You’re on.” Dom nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Luca didn’t need to know he’d already asked. “I bet you it’s chicken, but she’s doing something else with it. Something light for Pop.”
“I can smell the sauce.”
Dom grinned. “Double or nothing?”
Luca frowned as he picked up the copy of the trust by his place setting. “You did this?”
“Yeah, so?” Knowing his parents, it was inevitable they’d find something to argue about, so Dom had made copies so everyone would have their own set in their hot little hands.
Luca looked at Tony. “Our little brother’s growing up.”
Dom smacked him on his way back to the kitchen to get the iced tea.
Dinner was on the table ten minutes later, and Luca slipped the ten spot over along with a serving of salad.
“So why don’t we all read the first two pages while we have the antipasto?” Dom suggested. “Then we can talk.”
His father, Joe, who’d finally taken his seat, looked at Dom. “You got a date after?”
He just smiled, though it had occurred to Dom that if the meeting ended around nine he might bump into Sara on her way home. She’d be walking in this direction so it wouldn’t seem weird. But for all he knew, she wasn’t even working.
Although, why would he bother when he was still pissed at her?
Dom read the pages of the antiquated agreement, as if he didn’t already know most of it by heart. The last time it had been amended was back in the 1950s, and that was something their attorney—Great-uncle Peter—had suggested to protect the family in case of a lawsuit.
The room was quiet as they all read, except for the occasional sound of crunched vegetables. The language took some concentration, having originated in the early twentieth century, but the basics were straightforward.
“Okay.” Theresa put down her paper. “Let’s finish eating first,” she said. “Talk after. Give us time to digest. The last thing your father needs is agita.”
“I’m fine, Theresa. Enough. If the boys want to talk about the trust, let them.”
“I don’t know how everything has gotten so complicated,” she said. “Attorneys and accountants, and the way you boys have had to keep things so private.” Her gaze went to Tony and Luca. “It almost cost you Catherine and April. I don’t want that happening to Dominic, or your future children.”
“That’s why we’re meeting, Ma,” Luca said. “We all agree. Look at this stuff.” He waved the document so close to his wineglass he nearly knocked it over. “This was written for a different world. I’m not saying we should change the current rents, but I think it’s time we stop buying properties.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Tony said. “We don’t have to kick anyone out. Just stop adding to the problem.”
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