Chapter 24: Her Own Table

On Saturday at eleven I stood at the curb outside my grandmother's bakery with three white ribbons in my hand.

Three cars waited in a line along Hylan Boulevard.

The first was my grandmother's green Buick, which had not left its garage in two years.

The second was Gianluca's gray car, with Tommy already in the back seat.

The third was a minivan, borrowed from the older man on my father's crew.

Six of the crew wives sat inside it, with a tray of cannoli on the dashboard.

"You tie them yourself," my grandmother said from the sidewalk.

"I know."

I tied the first ribbon to the Buick's mirror, then the second to the gray car, then the third to the minivan.

I made each bow flat and tight, the way my grandmother taught me when I was seven.

Tommy leaned out of the window.

"You left one loop longer," he said.

"It's on purpose."

"It looks wrong."

"It looks like mine."

He grinned and ducked back inside.

My grandmother opened the Buick's passenger door and lowered herself into the seat with her purse in her lap.

"I'm eighty-one today," she said. "I would like to arrive."

"Yes, Nonna."

"You drive. I supervise."

I got behind the wheel.

The seat was set for a much shorter woman, and I did not move it.

Gianluca came to the window.

"Do you want me to lead?" he asked. "I know the way."

"You know the way to Rossi's?"

"I've been there twice."

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