Authors: Janice Thompson
Laz put his hand up in the air. “You know me better than that, Bella. I couldn’t possibly hire a caterer at my own wedding.”
“I would never dream of it either,” Rosa said, crossing her arms at her chest. “I will cook.”
“So will I.” Laz nodded.
“But how?” I asked. “I know you two are the best cooks on the island, but catering your own wedding? You’ll be exhausted. It’s too much to expect.” I turned to Rosa. “Can’t you see the dilemma? You’ll be worn out by the time you get into your dress.”
And you’ll probably end up with tomato
sauce all over the front of it.
“Of course it’s not too much to expect,” Rosa exclaimed. “I cook every day of my life. I can certainly cook for my own wedding.” As my eyes narrowed, she quickly added, “But don’t you worry, Bella. I’ll start preparing the food days ahead of time. There won’t be much to do on the final day, anyway. Just getting it warmed up and onto the tables is all, really.”
“Besides, Jenna and Bubba will be there to help,” Laz said with a wave of his hand.
I nodded, realizing that my best friend and her boyfriend would do all they could to make the day easier on Rosa and Laz. Not that I’d seen much of Jenna lately. Now that we were both in love—she with the younger Neeley brother and I with the older—we barely saw each other any more. I’d have to remedy that, and soon.
Laz’s voice jolted me back to the present. “We will have the best Italian food our friends and family have ever seen!” He and Rosa dove into a lengthy chat about the various food items, and I wrote everything down, just in case they forgot.
When Laz finally paused, I had one more question for him. “Have you two settled on your honeymoon spot yet?”
“Have we!” He grinned ear to ear.
“Why, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out, Bella,” Rosa said with a smile. “It’s so obvious. We’re going to—”
“Napoli!” Laz joined her in shouting.
“We’re going back to our roots, Bella Bambina,” Rosa said with tears in her eyes. “To Naples. Do you know how many years it’s been since I’ve seen my homeland?”
“Seven? Eight?” I said.
“Nine and a half.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I miss the Italian countryside so much.” She smiled. “And we’ve come up with the perfect plan. Did your mama tell you that our middle sisters are coming from Italy for the wedding?”
“Yes, she’s thrilled.”
“So am I.” Rosa’s eyes brimmed over. “Bertina and Bianca will stand up for me, along with your mother, of course.”
“That’s what Mama said. I’m so excited for you.” If anyone deserved to see her family on her wedding day, it was Aunt Rosa. She’d left so many friends and loved ones behind all those years ago when she came to live with us in the States.
“My brother is coming from Italy as well.” Laz nodded. “Haven’t seen Emilio in ages.”
“We’re all flying back together,” Rosa explained. “It will be a party all the way from Houston to Rome. I can hardly wait!”
I wanted to ask how they could possibly have time to themselves on their honeymoon with this plan in motion, but didn’t. Frankly, every time I thought about my elderly aunt and uncle having a honeymoon, I felt a little squeamish. There were just some things a girl didn’t need to know.
One thing I knew for sure, though. As I stared at the look of love pouring out of my aunt’s eyes, and when I watched the tender way Uncle Laz spoke to her, I realized they both completed each other. Oh, and if the Lord could do that for two people who had once despised one another, what wonderful things lay ahead for a couple who had gotten off to a really great start—say, a bumbling wedding planner and the sweetest cowboy in the state of Texas?
Mmm! Suddenly, I could hardly wait to see D.J.
For years, our family has leaned heavily on the old Italian saying,
Vivi bene, ridi spesso, e ama tanto.
“Live well, laugh often, love much.” I’ve always loved the phrase and have found it to be a great recipe for happiness and contentment.
Now, I knew the Rossis had conquered the art of living well. No doubt about that. And our ever-growing family exuded love. Laughter came naturally too. With half a dozen family members residing under one roof and so many other friends and relatives living nearby, we never suffered for company. Even our meals were traditional Italian events—long, loud, and filled with entertaining stories. I knew tonight’s dinner would be no different and, as always, looked forward to spending the evening with the people I loved most. The frosting on the cake? D.J. would be seated next to me for the whole thing.
Walking across the lawn from the wedding facility after our meeting, Rosa, Laz, and I continued our conversation about their big day. Only when I saw D.J.’s black Dodge 4x4 with its oversized running boards pull up did I find my thoughts shifting elsewhere. Something about the boy’s arrival always made me a little giddy. I could almost envision myself fifty years from now, still getting butterflies when he walked in the door.
I gave my aunt and uncle an apologetic look for ditching them as I sprinted toward my hunky cowboy. I arrived at the edge of the driveway just as he stepped out of the cab, his pointed leather boots leading the way. Mmm! The scent of his heavenly cologne lingered in the air as he closed the truck door. Very manly. The stuff television commercials were made of.
“Bella.” He flashed a winning smile, and I responded with a happy sigh. I loved the way the boy said my name:
Bay
luh. Made me happy my parents had moved our family to the South.
My heart caught in my throat as I slipped into his outstretched arms. What was it about this guy that took my breath away? Ah yes … everything! I adored every single thing about him, inside and out. His heart for God. His love for my family. His tall, broad-shouldered physique. His brawny good looks. His boyish charm. His deep bass voice with its sultry Texas twang. His pressed jeans and worn leather boots. Yummy! I could live forever with a guy like this.
And I would. If things would just slow down long enough for me to plan our Valentine’s Day wedding.
I planted a tender kiss on his lips, and he held me close. When we came up for air, he gazed into my eyes, brushing a long, dark curl off my face. “Wow. If that’s how I’m greeted when I come back, I’ll go away more often.”
“Well, you’ve been gone forty-eight hours,” I said with a pout. “I missed you.” Not that I minded, really. My honey’s trek to his hometown of Splendora, about an hour and a half north of Galveston, was a gesture of kindness. D.J. had agreed to do some construction work on his parents’ church. At no charge, of course. Just one more thing I loved about him—his generous nature.
“Sorry I was gone so long.” He held me close again. “But thanks for understanding. My parents send their hellos, by the way. Mama wants you to know she’s already picked out her dress for our wedding. She wanted to know if you thought red would be brazen, whatever that means.”
“Funny.” I laughed. “She knows our wedding colors are black and red, so red makes perfect sense. I’d rather she be brazen in red than mournful in black!”
“You have a point.” He gave me a smile, and my heart fluttered. “But you know how my mom is. She wants us to be happy, and if that means changing the color of her dress, she’s willing to do it.”
“Aw.” I grinned. Earline Neeley, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, was about the sweetest person I’d ever met. She and her church friends from Splendora would likely make our wedding unforgettable. They’d already impacted our lives in so many fun and quirky ways.
“I wish you could have heard me trying to talk my dad out of wearing his motorcycle jacket to the ceremony.” D.J. laughed. “He suggested we have a motorcycle-themed ceremony. He even went into detail about how we could accomplish that. I’ll spare you the details.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that one. “Did you tell him we’re going with a traditional Valentine’s wedding instead? No gimmicks?”
“Yeah, but he’s determined to sneak a Harley or two in there. If I tell him our wedding colors, he’ll probably have seat covers made to match. Oh, and by the way, he specifically asked if Guido was invited to the ceremony.”
I groaned as D.J. mentioned our family’s adopted parrot. “No. We left him off the guest list on purpose. Remember what happened the last time he showed up at a wedding?”
“How could I forget?” D.J. chuckled. “He stole my dad’s toupee.”
I shook my head, trying to push the image out of my brain. Oh, what chaos had transpired that horrible, wacky night! “Guido is a reformed bird now,” I said. “Well, sort of, anyway. I still don’t trust him in public arenas, so I’m going to have to put my foot down on this one. No birds at the wedding.”
“Except the lovebirds that happen to be flying overhead at the time.” D.J. winked, and my heart jolted. Oy, what this cowboy could do to me!
I gazed into his eyes and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You hungry?” I asked.
“Mmm.” He quirked a brow, and his blue eyes twinkled. “You have to ask?”
“Laz made his famous Caesar salad tonight, and Rosa’s cooking chicken parmesan.”
“With her garlic twists?” D.J. asked, his eyebrows elevating.
“Of course!” My aunt’s garlic twists were famous, not just on the island, but across the country. She’d recently been featured on a Food Network special,
Italian Chefs from Coast to
Coast.
The fine folks at the network had offered her a show of her very own, but she’d turned them down after Laz declared his intentions. To her way of thinking, love trumped fame. I had to agree. Not that I’d ever been offered fame. Still, I had to believe I’d pick love any day.
“What’s for dessert?” D.J. asked.
“White chocolate raspberry cheesecake.”
At this announcement, we both closed our eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying a spiritual moment. Aunt Rosa’s cheesecake was nothing short of heavenly, after all.
After a moment, D.J. kissed my closed eyelids. “What are we doing standing out here then?” he asked.
As we walked in the front door, the pungent aroma of garlic and other spices caused us both to stop and draw in another lingering breath. Rosa’s cooking could do that to you.
“I’m learning to love that smell,” D.J. said with a nod.
“It ain’t chicken-fried steak,” I responded with a laugh. “Not exactly Texas fare. But you have to admit, Rosa’s the best cook on the island, and Laz comes in a close second.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what everyone is going to do without them once they get married.”
I shook my head, unwilling to think about that. We’d all secretly wondered if we would starve to death once Rosa and Laz found their own place to live. Rosa had always resided in the room next to mine, with Laz’s room just on the other side of hers. For as long as I’d remembered, she’d been a permanent fixture in both our home and our kitchen, where the magic took place. How would we make it without her? I had no idea.
“Looks like we’ll be visiting them often.” D.J. offered up a wink, once again melting my heart.
At this point, my Yorkie-Poo, Precious, greeted us by springing up and down repeatedly. I finally scooped her into my arms and planted a few kisses on her little head. “Were you a good girl while Mama was next door?” I asked in baby talk.
“Good?” Mama asked, approaching us. “You might want to check out what she did in Rosa’s room. She got into the silk floral centerpieces and chewed one of them up.”
“No way!” Not after all the work we’d done on them. I leaned down to scold her, then found myself captivated by her sweet little face. Maybe I could scold her tomorrow. The centerpieces were replaceable. My loveable pooch was not.
As we approached the living room, I heard Uncle Laz’s adopted parrot, Guido, singing “Amazing Grace.” Nothing unusual there. We paused to look at him. Though he drove me crazy at times, I was happy to see that Guido’s feathers were finally growing back in. He’d lost most of them over the summer—an allergic reaction.
When the song ended, the ornery parrot hollered, “Go to the mattresses!” then lifted his leg and let out what sounded like machine-gun fire. So much for saying the bird was reformed. Laz had been working with him for months now, but Guido was apparently still waffling. Another week or two and my uncle would surely have him walking the straight and narrow. No doubt about it. If anyone could work a miracle, Laz could.
Rosa and Laz headed into the kitchen to help Mama finish up our dinner, and I washed my hands, then went into the dining room to set the table. D.J. knew the routine, so he offered to help.
“How many?” he asked, holding up the placemats.
“Hmm.” I did a quick head count. “Nick, Marcella, and their boys …” I smiled, thinking about my oldest brother and his wife. They were expecting a baby in a few months. “What about Joey?” D.J. asked.
“Yes.” My baby brother would be there too, along with his fiancée. “Norah will be with him.” I paused a moment. “Armando won’t be here. He’s in Houston again.” I shrugged as I thought of my middle brother. He was always flitting off after some woman or another, usually on the mainland.
“Sophia?”
“Yes.” I smiled as my younger sister’s latest announcement resurfaced in my brain. “And here’s an interesting tidbit. She and Tony are dating. As in, seriously dating.”
“Wow.” D.J. almost lost his grip on the placemats at that announcement. No doubt. Seeing my sister with my ex-boyfriend still took a bit of getting used to. Personally, I thought they made a great couple and hoped things worked out for them.
D.J. composed himself, and his eyes narrowed as he did the math. “So, with your parents, Rosa, and Laz, that makes fourteen, right?”
“Sounds about right.” I nodded.
“Good thing you have a big table.” He pointed at the family’s oversized mahogany table, imported from Europe.
“I hate to break it to you, D.J., but every Italian family has a table like this. And it’s always filled with food and surrounded by laughter.”
“Then I wish I’d been born in Italy.” He released his hold on the placemats and gave me a kiss on the forehead.