Fools Rush in(26)

This statement was met with silence. Mom put her fork down, clearly stunned. Sam looked at me from across the table, stunned. Dad scowled, stunned. The quiet was broken only by the sound of Danny’s fork clattering against his plate as he shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth in a frenzied fashion. “Where are you going?” he asked, swallowing hugely, the only one at the table who wasn’t amazed by the fact that I had a date.

“We’re just going to the Barnacle,” I answered, plopping more potatoes on my nephew’s now-empty plate. To their credit, my family had reason to be surprised. I had never had a date here on Cape Cod, so this was indeed an unprecedented event.

“Oh! That’s nice!” Mom answered, aware that a response was required. “So what’s this person’s name?”

“Lorenzo Bellefiore,” I answered.

“What kind of name is that?” Dad asked, clenching his fork and knife in his large fists.

“Italian, it sounds like. I don’t really know,” I said.

“Well, what do you know about this guy?” Dad demanded, looking quite fierce. Apparently, the only men I was allowed to love were sitting at this table.

“I know that he cut his hand and needed nine stitches,” I replied sweetly, smiling at Sam, who smiled back.

“Millie, you can’t just go out with some guy you don’t even know,” Dad barked.

Fearful that Dad might ruin my chances of matrimony (and hence, more grandchildren), Mom intervened. “Now, Howard, Millie is an adult,” she explained in placating terms. “She’s a doctor.”

“I know she’s a doctor!” Dad’s voice rose several decibels. “She’s my daughter! I know what she does!”

Sam strategically wiped his mouth with his napkin to hide his smile, and I kicked him under the table. This kind of exchange was par for the course in my family, and now that I didn’t actually live with Mom and Dad, I thought it was cute.

“Sam,” my dad said, appealing to male common sense. “Sam, could you check this guy out?”

“I’d love to, Howard, but I really can’t,” Sam said. “It’s against the rules to use police resources for checking out your sister-in-law’s boyfriends.”

“It’s not boyfriends!” Dad exclaimed. “It’s one person! Lorenzo something or other.”

“Sorry, big guy,” Sam said, winking at me.

“Well, maybe we could do this,” Dad said, clearly irritated with me for complicating his life. “Why don’t we all go to the Barnacle for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Dad! My God! Stop it!” I yelped. “You never did this with Trish!”

“Well, Trish had the good sense to pick Sam!” Dad thundered. Then, realizing what he’d said, he grimaced. “Sorry, son.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said. “I know what you meant.”

We were quiet for a minute, the specter of my sister’s folly hanging around the table like a smelly gym towel. Sam looked very tragic and brave, very Saving Private Ryan. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Who wants pie?” Mom asked.

AFTER THE DISHES WERE LOADED into the dishwasher, Sam asked me if I wanted to take a walk while Dad, Danny and Mom tuned in the often heartbreaking, always thrilling Red Sox.

The wind raked across the sky as we strolled down the street in companionable silence. The last of the evening light was seeping away, turning the sky a deep blue, and we could just barely see.

In my parents’ cozy neighborhood, most of the residents were year-round Cape Codders, so lights brightened the windows and cheerful porch flags waved here and there. The road was quiet enough that Sam and I could walk down the middle of it, as there were no sidewalks.

“Sorry about the Trish thing at dinner,” I said.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Sam replied. “Sorry about the interrogation.”

“It was kind of fun, seeing Dad get all steamed up.”

Sam laughed. “He’s a little overprotective, that’s for sure. So what’s this Lorenzo guy like, anyway?”

“Well,” I answered, “he’s gorgeous.”

“Well, that’s perfect, since you’re so pretty.” Dear Sam! My heart warmed as he grinned at me. “Anything else other than gorgeous?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s smart, and he smells wonderful.”

“I guess that’s a good start,” Sam said.

I linked my arm through his as we turned onto another little street.

It had always bothered me that Sam had gone to someone like Trish. Granted, he’d been a teenager when they’d gotten together, but it always seemed like the best men went to those too-beautiful, ungrateful women who felt they were owed everything and were grateful for nothing. And Sam was everything a woman could want in a man, quiet and funny and just so decent and reliable. Trish never seemed to appreciate those qualities. Sam deserved someone who really loved him. And so…

“Are you still going out with Katie and me on Saturday?” I asked.

“Sure. It’ll be fun.”

“Great.” I left it at that. “Boy, your son can sure pack it away,” I observed, kicking a stone.

Sam laughed again. “Growth spurt,” he said. “Did he tell you he’s going down to New Jersey next weekend?”