“And you think running a restaurant is the answer?” The annoying smirk was back on his face. This was a big joke to him.
“I don’t know if this is the answer. But I know that I want to find out.”
The next day Mandy went to Grams’ house. She wanted to get it ready for Jill and Emma. She put freshly washed sheets on the beds, and stocked the fridge with essentials like Diet Coke, milk, eggs, a cooked rotisserie chicken, coffee, bagels— and of course, chocolate. That should hold them for a few days until they got settled.
It was a little strange when she first walked into her grandmother’s house. Even though it was immaculate and hadn’t been touched in close to a year, she could still feel Grams’ presence. As she walked through the rooms, she thought her senses were playing tricks on her because now and then she could swear she caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. Grams had been a heavy smoker, a pack a day from age sixteen she’d once said, and her brand of choice was Virginia Slims. She thought they had a refined look and a more delicate taste. She made weak attempts to quit several times, but it never lasted long. Grams often admitted that she loved smoking and never really wanted to stop.
Mandy paused when she walked into Grams’ favorite room. Her cozy library/den was just off the kitchen and the walls were lined with built-in bookcases that held an eclectic mix of books, from fiction and biographies to cookbooks of all kinds. For as long as Mandy could remember, Grams had collected cookbooks. She’d rarely cooked from them, but she loved reading them and getting ideas. Tucked into the far corner of the room was an antique roll-top desk where Grams kept all of her correspondence. There was an address book, stamps and what looked like an old diary. Intrigued, Mandy settled herself into the leather padded chair and opened the diary.
A while later she rubbed her neck which was starting to feel a bit stiff and glanced at her watch. She couldn’t believe the time. Almost two hours had gone by! No wonder her neck was cramping up. She’d been completely engrossed in Grams’ diary. She couldn’t stay much longer though. It was almost time to pick the kids up from school. But she needed to know what was going to happen next. Grams’ diary was fascinating. She’d had no idea what her grandmother’s life was really like.
The diary began in her high school years, and Mandy was at the point where she had graduated from Radcliffe and was starting to spread her wings in Boston. That meant she was living at home in her family’s Beacon Hill townhouse and had just landed her first job out of college as a teacher at a North End elementary school. Mandy put her feet up and began reading again,
“I have to admit that I’m both thrilled and a bit terrified to be starting my new job tomorrow. My parents are especially pleased about the location. I’ll be able to walk to work and it’s a pleasant walk too, ten minutes tops. And of course father approves because, as he says, “The North End is such a safe area. Nothing bad happens there. The Italians won’t stand for it.” Those were his exact words. I asked him to further explain, and he just said, “They protect their own.” I just love the North End. Always have. Just think, after school’s out for the day I’ll be able to stop by Mike’s Pastry on my walk home for a cup of coffee and something sweet. Wish me luck!”
Grams sounded so young, and so full of excitement. Mandy turned the page, and the next entry was dated a month or so later.
Dearest Diary, I’m so sorry that I’ve neglected you. But I have a wonderful excuse. Two, actually. I love my job! The kids are wonderful and I’ve made a great friend in one of the other teachers. Betty and I have been tearing up the town, going from one party to the next. It seems like there’s been so many fun events lately. But, best of all, I met someone wonderful!
Jay is a true Italian, born and brought up right on Hanover Street. We met at Mike’s Pastry. I was buying some cannolis to bring home for dessert and he couldn’t decide what kind of Torrone to get and asked my advice. Well, you know how I feel about Torrone, that delicious nougat candy? I told him that the vanilla almond dipped in dark chocolate was the way to go. We kept chatting, and he asked me to dinner the following night and we’ve been dating steadily ever since.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. He reminds me a bit of Jimmy Stewart, but with darker hair and prettier eyes. They’re a soft blue-gray and his smile just makes me melt. I think about him constantly. We seem to have this amazing connection, where we’re able to talk for hours about anything and everything. Do you suppose this means I’m in love? I’m pretty sure that whatever it is, he’s feeling it too.