The doorbell rings and Julian does about fifty things in twenty seconds, then takes off his apron and dashes toward the door. I see him hugging a woman with a gray bob and thin black glasses, carrying a bag that looks like it’s made of straw.
“Giovanna! Don’t you look precious. Come in!”
The woman looks like she was born in these hills, like she might have grown the peaches we just finished chopping. She gives me a wide smile and opens her arms.
“You must be Luna. I have not seen you in ages!”
She hugs me and her shawl smells floral, as if she’s just spent the afternoon trimming roses. She could be thirty or fifty, I have no idea. She steps back to have a look at me. “You were in diapers before and now you look like a woman!” She touches my shoulder and then turns to Julian. “Have you any vino? I’m parched.”
“Of course. White, or would you prefer a sidecar?”
She turns to me and stage-whispers, “I think he’s trying to take advantage of me.”
I feel myself blush a little and sip my own glass.
“No, I’ll stick with some white, please. Tell me, Luna, how old are you now?”
“Fifteen.”
“Going on thirty,” Julian adds, handing Giovanna her glass of wine.
Richard comes down the stairs in a white embroidered shirt, glowing from his shower, and kisses Giovanna on both cheeks.
“Hi, beautiful.”
“Oh, I thought you meant me,” Julian kids, adding a fake hair-flip.
Richard rolls his eyes like he’s used to it. It’s funny, but the way they are acting around each other is exactly like my parents. I know Mom and Dad were in love, I just don’t know when, or why, it all changed.
The doorbell rings again and this time Richard heads over to open it. A couple with a toddler comes in loaded with baby gear. The man is skinny and gangly, the woman curvy and short. The little girl has red hair and freckles. She runs right up to me and stares. I’m not quite sure what to do, so I just smile until the woman says, in a thick British accent, “Sorry, she’s a bit forward. She’s called Tamarind, Tam for short. And I’m Bridget.” She reaches out her hand and I shake it. Tam makes a snort noise and runs outside.
“And I’m Charles,” the man says. “Chopped liver, I suppose.”
I smile. I already like these people and I don’t even know them.
We all sit outside by the pool and eat grapes and crusty bread with the neighbor’s olive oil. Isabella arrives last, a stunning woman with black hair and brown eyes, wearing a thin dress that reminds me of something my mother would have worn. Here I go again.
“I’ve heard so much about you. Your mother … she was like a summer day,” she says, “warm and sweet, always lingering. She taught me a lot, actually.”
What am I supposed to say? I settle for “Great,” which comes out weird. Then she’s whisked away by Julian, who apparently needs a private conference.
Eventually we’re all seated around their huge wooden table, which used to be a door in a church. Candles line the room and the lights are dimmed. Julian serves the dinner while Richard keeps the drinks flowing. I’m seated between Giovanna and Charles, who with my help gets Julian to tell the story of how he and Richard met.
“The Raleigh Hotel in South Beach. I had a few days off from my superhetero Van Morrison tour—in case you were wondering, the song was not called ‘Brown-Eyed Boy.’ ” Giovanna almost spits out her sip of wine. “Anyway, I thought I’d get a little diversion in South Beach, which was not the gay mecca it is now.…”
“Julian, let’s pick a lane and keep driving,” Richard says.
“Okay, there’s this teeny-tiny bar, and they were serving some nut that was really spicy, so Richard comes in, all suave and debonair as usual, and orders a gin martini. He smiled at me, and I thought to myself, yes, I want to look into this face tomorrow. We start chatting, and I learn he’s in town researching the biography he’s writing, which I thought was molto impressivo. To show off, he throws up a macadamia nut and catches it in his mouth and proceeds to choke on it!”
The table starts howling. Giovanna whispers to me, “I’ve heard this story a zillion times—sometimes the nut is an almond.”
“So he’s sitting there convulsing and his whole face is purple and the thing flies out and lands, I’m not kidding you, in my lap.”
“Passare,” Isabella says with her long fingers waving. I glance over and notice that her other hand is on Giovanna’s thigh.
“So, did you pick it up and eat it?” Charles asks.
“I said, sorry, I already have two of those!”
The table laughs again, this time including Bridget, who seems to be drinking wine at a rapid pace. Tam is in her high chair, staring wide-eyed at everyone.
“But seriously, he wouldn’t stop coughing, so I suggested we go outside. Sure enough, he was better there. It was all very art deco and palm trees and even a moon.” He glances at me quick enough for only us to get the reference and continues, “I told him he should be in pictures.”
“How clichéd,” Bridget says.
“No, it’s romantic,” Isabella points out.
“And he just stood there and looked at me, and something told me”—Julian gets a little choked up but holds it together—“that there would be no more searching. And here we are nine years later.” He raises his glass and indicates for everyone to do the same. “To my wonderful Richard and his darling niece, Luna!”
We all clink and I make sure to look everyone in the eye. My mother told me that whenever there’s a toast, you must look everyone in the eye. I always liked that, because then it means something more than just a boring ritual you do every once in a while.
Isabella and Bridget get up to help Julian serve dessert. I can tell the three of them are talking about more than how many peach slices go on each plate. The room feels a little deflated with Julian gone, like he was the warm air holding everyone’s spirits up. Giovanna goes to the bathroom and Richard dangles a flower in front of Tam. Charles and I sit in silence.
All through dessert I notice Isabella constantly touching Giovanna, and Charles seems to be flirting with Julian. It’s all very confusing to me, so I offer to take Tam outside for a while. Bridget says, “Please, take her for a week if you wish.” Charles winces a little.
It’s very dark outside but there are small yellow lights on the edge of the garden, creating a halo around it. Tam pretends to smell one of the plants but it’s only a weed. I watch her do this for a while and it’s a welcome distraction. Then I hear the sliding door open and turn to find Bridget walking toward me and swaying a little.
“She’s very keen on you,” she says, pointing at little Tam.
“She’s cute. That hair!”
“Right? It comes from Charles’s mum.”
“Cool. How long have you been married?”
Bridget laughs a little. “We’re not. Not the marrying type, either of us.”
“Oh.”
I feel confused again. Bridget senses this, and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“We don’t need a piece of paper to prove our love. Some people do, but we’re sorted. Besides, no matter what happens, Tam will have both of our love and support. I think if we got married we’d loathe each other!”
She laughs again and I see there’s a calm about her. Maybe my parents shouldn’t have gotten married. Would that have taken some of the pressure off? Tam spins around really fast and falls down. She looks up at us to gauge whether she should cry or not, and decides to just wipe herself off and keep exploring the plants.
“Not sure if I ever want to get married either,” I say.
Bridget finishes her wine and says, “Well, there are also different types of marriages. I mean, look at Isabella.”
“Yeah,” I say, pretending to know what she’s talking about.
“Well, the pudding with the peaches bit is heavenly, you must go in. I’ll stay with Tam.”
As I come inside, Julian is setting out a plate for me, and Richard is in the kitchen making coffee. I sit with Isabella.
“It’s not pudding,” I say. “It’s cheesecake.”
“That’s what we call dessert in England,” Charles says, appearing out of nowhere. Isabella gets up and heads to the powder room. I eat the “pudding,” which tastes amazing.
After a bit I decide to head upstairs to wash up, and see Isabella in the hallway, lightly kissing Giovanna. It’s all too much for my brain to handle. I call good night from the top of the stairs and dip into my little room.