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Back at the house, Eddie and Micola sat in the dining room at a long mahogany table and spread out the paperwork. Micola cut two slices of pumpkin cake and poured two cups of coffee, while Eddie worked on their ideas and plans. As she set his cake and coffee in front of him, Micola looked down at Eddie who was furiously taking notes.
“Eddie.”
He stopped writing and looked up at her, shrugging his shoulders.
“Do you need me to write a check yet?”
He gave her his softest effort at a smile. He’d love to get a check from her, but what he really wanted to know was how much money she actually had. Still, he couldn’t ask. It was too soon. That question had haunted his dreams the past few nights. What had Primo said? A few million? Maybe more?
“You okay, Eddie?”
Micola held her cup to her lips, staring down at him, a worried look crossing her face.
He let the vision of hundred-dollar bills slip away.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” He tapped his temple with his pen. “My mind is goin’ crazy up here, know-what-I-mean?” He chuckled as she let out a breathy laugh. “But ‘ah, yeah. I am gonna’ need a check pretty soon.”
“Okay, Eddie. You let me know. I got money.”
He heard a bit of a melody in her statement and he looked up to see her smiling.
“Lots-a money.”
He smiled at her, but held his tongue. He didn’t want to appear greedy. He’d find out soon enough how much she had.
“That right?”
She clasped her hands like she was praying and nodded. “Mm-hmm. Lots.”
His heart flip-flopped. “Okay,” he said, keeping his cool. “That’s good. Cuz we’re gonna’ need lots-a money. I hope you’re ready to spend it.”
“Sí, Eddie. I’m ready.”
“Good. Now, let’s get-ta work.”
Over the next three hours, the two of them sketched and planned the layout for her new restaurant. As the afternoon turned to evening, Micola prepared plates of pasta and salad.
She peppered Eddie with questions. She wanted his opinions and sometimes challenged his ideas. Eddie had expected this. She knew what she wanted, and he loved her enthusiasm. The whole concept was exciting, but in different ways for each of them.
As Eddie finished up the last of his notes, he glanced over at Micola.
“Tired?”
She nodded. “Sí, Eddie. My head—it’s exploding.”
He put down his pen, stretching as he let out a loud groan. “Yeah. It’s a lotta’ work.”
He stood and leaned over to kiss Micola’s head. “Got some other work to do, some calls to make. We’ll talk some more tomorrow. You should get some rest.”
“Okay, Eddie.”
She looked up at him from her chair, took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you. Your help is—” Her voice cracked and her eyes moistened. “It’s—”
“I know. Ya’ welcome. Gonna’ be fun, ‘eh?”
He turned and walked out of the dining room.
“Buona notte.”
“Buona notte, Eddie.”
