Page 16 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

By the time Mom, Leo, and I showed up, most of the metal folding chairs in the assembly hall were filled.

“Gianna! Alice! Over here!” My Aunt Helen stood on a chair and waved her arms wildly above her head. “We saved you seats!”

“My God, woman! Do you have a death wish?” Her husband—my Uncle Rick—tugged on her arm. “Stop standing on things!”

Aunt Helen frowned at him and then stepped down as we reached the front row where, sure enough, three open seats sat between Nona and my Aunt Sofia. Sam and his family waved from the row behind mine, Sam high-fiving Leo as he passed him before going back to reading.

Nona placed her hand on mine and squeezed it as I sat down. “Ciao, cara,” she said to me before leaning forward and adding “Ciao, cuoricciolo” to Leo.

Nona had been calling me “my dear” and Leo “little heart” for as long as I could remember. I kissed her warm cheek and smiled at the familiar scent of her Neutrogena face wash. “Buonasera, Nona.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Your Italiano has gotten much better, Gianna. Have you been practicing?”

I held up my thumb and pointer finger with just a bit of space in between them. “Un po’,” I admitted. Sadly, my streak in Duolingo ended about a week ago when I passed out after my tryptophan overdose on Thanksgiving.

I pulled out my phone and typed a quick text to Sam.

Me: I visited Dad today.

Me: The poinsettia is beautiful. Thank you.

The conversation bubble immediately popped up, and a second later, his reply came.

Sam: Of course.

Sam: Did you bring him a cannoli?

I grinned as I typed my reply.

Me: Of course.

The back doors of the hall slammed open, making all of us jump, as Eve and Phineas barged in mid-argument. From what I could make out, she was accusing him of stealing a package of sugar off her front stoop, and he told her to check the cameras, to which she reminded him she never needed till now. They separated into opposite rows off the main aisle, but not before she smacked him with her mail.

I took out my favorite pen and notepad, flipping to an empty page to jot down the highlights from the meeting for next week’s school paper. Mr. Clark had asked that I try for an interview with Mayor Moore as well, but that would be tricky. His assistant had always been notoriously difficult to pin down.

“Those two desperately need baciare,” Nona said to my cousin Bianca on the other side of her.

“You still think they’re into each other?” Bianca took out one of her earbuds and pushed her dark bangs away from her eyes to get a better look as I took a swig of water from my tumbler.

“Assolutamente.” Nona turned forward again. “All that arguing is just passion in a different form. Kissing would do them both a lot of good.” She smacked my arm and lowered her voice. “Like you and Sam, eh, cara?”

I accidentally inhaled my water, which made me me cough several times.

Leo jumped out of his seat shouting, “Oh no, was it nuts?!”

This naturally made my entire family, and Sam’s, and the two rows behind them, look around as if the lethal nut in question had an accomplice who was attempting to flee the scene.

“My Great-Aunt Elena once gifted nuts to a crow.” Aunt Sofia stayed seated and looked forward while speaking to no one—a common habit. “Days later, he returned, bringing back only the cashews. Another time, he brought her a button when she’d lost one. She called him Aldo for his wisdom.”

Bianca stared at her, mouth open. “Mom, that cannot be true.”

I held up my hand and shook my head as the coughing subsided. “It’s okay, guys. I just breathed my water instead of drinking it,” I said with a wheezy voice.

Leo put a hand on his chest and exhaled loudly. “Thank goodness. I really didn’t want to stab you.”

I laughed, which only made my throat hurt worse. “I’ve got a neffy on me, bud. No needles today.”

Being the only one in the family with a severe food allergy was not my favorite thing. True, my family had gotten really good about keeping peanuts and tree nuts away over the last several years after some close calls and hospital trips, but I still felt like a burden every time I double-checked recipes brought to family gatherings. They all said they “didn’t mind” my questions, or how I’d sometimes wash a serving spoon or knife just in case, but their tone didn’t always convey the same message.