“Got that from his mom.” Shelly followed Sal to the dining room. “I just loved him the best I could and bought very expensive glass for his mother to keep her happy,” he joked.
“Smells wonderful,” Shelly said as the aroma of home-cooked Italian fare wafted from the kitchen.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Sal said.
“Sorry, Shelly, Dad,” Nick called. Shelly smiled as she heard him
stumble down the stairs. “Jerry had an issue with his girlfriend.” “Jerry’s girlfriend?” asked Shelly.
“Yes. She wants him to get a tattoo.”
“That boy is really going to get a tattoo?” asked Sal.
“I told him to get one of hair on his head.” Nick quipped. He made his way around the table to face Shelly. “Wow, you look great.”
She could tell he was pleased with her extra primping and choice of dress. “Thank you.”
“Stunning,” he said.
“Elegant comes to mind,” said Sal. He made a gesture for his son to stop ogling and offer Shelly a seat. Shelly loved the way he talked with his hands, replacing words with those Italian gestures known for generations.
“I hope you don’t mind me being so casual,” Nick said. She looked at his clothes—jeans, brown polo shirt, and brown slip-on shoes.
“Not at all. By the way, Dr. Wall said Friday at two would work
for him.”
“Sit down already, you two.” Sal emerged from the kitchen with
a platter of veal.
“This looks amazing, Sal,” said Shelly.
“You should taste it! Then let me know what you think.”
The three began to feast on yet another masterpiece à la Poppa Sal. A lady was in the house, and she could tell both men were very conscious of being on their best behavior. The fact that a Kristen— with an e or i—had been so significant in both of their lives was foremost on her mind, but she really didn’t know how to go about bringing it up. Luckily, Nick was the first to utter the name.
“So, I know a little bit about the Foundation, but tell me more
about its namesake, Kristen.”