Remembering You ~ a novel

By Robynne Rand

When Genna comes home to Rhode Island over the 4th of July holiday, she finds that her family is falling apart and she has only twenty-one days to put them back together.

Executive Chef at the posh Crestwood Country Club in Delaware is a dream job. It’s more than the pay and benefits, she has the chance to achieve what she’s always wanted – her own kitchen – and Genna can’t wait to get started when she returns after her 4th of July holiday.

Her vacation is far from relaxing. Two men are vying for her attention, an ex-fiancé who wants to fix the mistakes of the past, and an old school chum who finds her irresistible and inspires mutual feelings in Genna.

Her aunt is also clearly showing signs of old age, and the family is in denial; her cousins are unable to cope with their mother’s changing behavior and her beloved uncle, dealing with all the stress, has a heart attack.

Genna steps in to keep her uncle’s diner open and she questions what’s more important – returning to her job to break the glass ceiling or her family.
The clock runs out and Genna finds she is needed at her job, she is needed by her family, and she is needed by lovers old and new. Now Genna must search her soul to find out what she needs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robynne Rand
• Release date: Sep 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301570492

Robynne Rand

Robynne Rand grew up on the shores of Rhode Island. Now living in the Foothills of the Piedmont in North Carolina with her daughter, two dogs, and a cat named Henry David Thoreau, she writes about home and the people she misses.Rand also writes Regency romance under the pen name Anne Gallagher.

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REMEMBERING YOU

a novel

Robynne Rand

Shore Road Publishing

PO Box 333

Bethania, North Carolina 27010

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. They are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 Shore Road Publishing

All rights reserved.

The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole in part, in any form by any print, electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of any copyrighted materials in any form. To do so is a violation of the author’s rights.

Cover Design by Straw Hill Designs © 2012

Cover Photograph by Hans Vink 2007

Saturday

February 24 1995

Genna noticed him by the jukebox. She and her cousin, Angie, were drinking Shirley Temples at one of the little tables. The Club was full of family and friends, not there to celebrate their cousin, William’s commitment to God on his First Communion, but for the array of food and free drinks.

Who’s that guy with your brother? Genna asked. She craned her neck in a contortionist’s pose around the high backed booth to stare at him.

Where? Angie turned.

Over there by the juke. That guy in the corner.

Angie cut a quick glance in their direction. Him? That’s Tony Testa. He’s Uncle Al’s sister’s kid. She didn’t seem too interested, which was unlike Angie. She always sought out the cute guys.

How come I’ve never seen him before? Genna chewed on her straw.

Because he hasn’t been here before. His family moved back a few weeks ago. His old man got fired for drinking on the job. Angie squirmed in her seat to watch her latest crush talk to another girl. Crap, Angie mumbled.

How do you know so much about him? Genna asked. She repositioned herself and glanced Tony’s way again. If he didn’t look just like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.

My mother had his mother over for lunch last Saturday and I overheard the conversation. I’d stay away from Tony if I were you, Genna. He’s got a reputation. Besides, you’re only fourteen. He’s too old for you. Angie, eighteen months her senior, gave Genna a smug smile.

The gauntlet thrown, Genna maneuvered her way across the room to her father who stood with all the uncles telling stories. Begging quarters for the jukebox, it cost a kiss on his cheek for the eight coins.

It took almost forty-five minutes to re-cross the floor, waylaid by her mother and Aunt Fortuna, but Genna finally managed to stand by herself at the jukebox. Tony, alone now in the corner, played with the ice in his glass. Rob had gone.

Genna plopped the sweat soaked quarters into the jukebox and as she made a few selections, a low voice spoke from her left side.

Don’t they have anything on here that wasn’t released in the 50’s? Tony stood, one arm draped along the top of the machine.

Genna snuck a glance. Her stomach did a flip-flop. No. The owner won’t let them put any of the new stuff on here. It sucks, but any music is better than none. Her heart raced and she hoped he wouldn’t notice her fingers trembling as she pressed the buttons. Frank Sinatra crooned, I’ve got you under my skin.

Yeah, I guess you’re right. Tony looked over shoulder as she made more choices. Hey, he said. You want to go out and have a cigarette. I can’t smoke in here, my mother’ll freak if she sees me.

The instant thrill of Tony singling her out, far outweighed the ramifications she would face if caught. Yeah. Okay. Genna followed him like a puppy to a dish of kibble. Taking the side door that led directly to the parking lot, she glanced over her shoulder praying no one would see her leave.

Tony led her to the far side of the big maple tree in the middle of the lot. He lit two Marlboro’s and passed one to her.

So I hear you’ve got two names, Tony said. What’s up with that?

How did you know? Genna asked. She liked he had bothered to find out her name.

I asked Rob who you were. Why do you have two names anyway?

Because I’m not crazy about Rosa Linda as a first name and Genna sounds better. Genna sucked a little of the smoke into her mouth and coughed.

Why Genna?

Short for Genovase.

So, what do you want me to call you, Rosa or Genna?

Genna glanced at his face and found his blue eyes magnets, locking her gaze with his. Her stomach held a thousand unleashed butterflies, which in some small way gave her the courage to say the most outrageous thing she had ever said in her entire life.

You can call me Genna in public and Rosa after you kiss me. Genna hoped this would show Angie she wasn’t just some fourteen-year-old girl.

Tony laughed and blew smoke out of his mouth in one long breath. He cupped her chin with his hand, leaned down, and kissed her.

Genna, having only shared a chaste kiss with Teddy Kowalski behind the bleachers in sixth grade, didn’t quite know what to do with her hands, especially the one with the cigarette in it. She enjoyed the first four seconds of the kiss and then Tony pushed her away. It was true Genna didn’t exactly know how to kiss, but did her inexperience merit a shove?

Damn. Tony sucked on his forearm. He showed her where her cigarette head had burned a small spot on his arm.

Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Tony. God, I’m really sorry. She threw the cigarette on the ground and quashed it under her shoe. She really was just a fourteen-year-old girl, who had no business being outside, alone with an older boy, smoking a cigarette. She didn’t even smoke.

Hey, it’s no big deal, Tony said. He stared into her eyes. I knew I was playing with fire when I brought you out here.

A misty fog turned into light rain and he grabbed her hand and headed to a beat up Chevy truck. He opened the door, scooted her inside, and jumped onto the seat next to her.

So, Rosa, you want to try that again? Tony’s voice oozed velvet, and his eyes held hers in the darkness of the truck.

I can’t stay out here long. My parents were getting ready to leave. She had used up her allotted five minutes to smoke.

Just one more kiss Rosa, so I can take it with me.

SURPRISE

Tuesday

June 23 2009

Genna took a deep breath of the salty, humid air, pulled her ponytail tighter, and turned the handle. The bell on the door tinkled as she walked into her uncle’s little diner, a mainstay in the Bristol, Rhode Island neighborhood for more than thirty years. The fluttering in her stomach stopped as the smell of dark roasted coffee, pancake syrup, and bacon assaulted her nose.

Walking to the low counter, looks from the other customers had her smoothing her shirt as she sat on one of the stools to the side of the cash register. She swirled in her chair noticing not one thing had changed since her childhood. The same picture of Pope John Paul II still hung over the door to the kitchen. The flag of Italy under glass, displayed over the map of Salerno where the ancestors originated. Did anyone even bother to look at the decrepit bulletin board anymore? Still by the front door with so many cards stuck to it, the thing was an eyesore and should have been taken down. The little café curtains that hung along the front wall of windows were the only thing mark a discernable difference. Blue checkered now, instead of red.

As her eyes flitted from booth to booth looking for people she might know, she spied a lone man in the corner. It couldn’t be. Her breath caught in her throat. Was that Tony? Half rising from his seat, he stared back as if she were a ghost. Genna met his shocked expression before turning away giving him what her historical romance novels called the cut direct. She never imagined running into him just five minutes off the road. But there he was, larger than life, sitting in her Uncle Sally’s diner.

Rosa Linda Fortuna Genovase, is it really you? A voice boomed through the pass-through window next to the coffee maker. A moment later her uncle burst through the swinging door, arms extended for a hug.

Uncle Sally! Genna jumped from her seat and rushed to him.

Salvatore Sally Genovase, her father’s brother, kissed her cheeks, pulled her close, and then pushed her away from his huge body, grasping her hands in his. Your Aunt Fortuna is gonna’ have you on a spit you know. You shoulda’ called. He hugged her again and her back cracked in two places.

I know, Unc, I know, but it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. I had some time coming to me, so I decided to come home. Surprise! She held his hand as she sank back down onto the stool.

He sat on the next stool in line and asked in a low voice, You okay? You don’t owe nobody nothing, do ya’? He glanced over his shoulder around the small café.

Genna laughed. No, I don’t owe anyone, anything. Ingrained throughout her childhood was the Genovase family creed: Mind Your Business—Mind Your Family—Mind Your Money.

You sure? he asked.

I’m sure, now stop. She squeezed his hand. I just wanted to come home, that’s all. I missed you. Once a week phone calls just weren’t cutting it anymore. Now, what’s going on here? She looked at the white dry-erase board hanging over the coffee machine and smiled. Same old Tuesday specials I see. When are you going to change this menu?

"Ha, just like a woman, not even here for two minutes and already giving me grief. Your

Aunt Fortuna trained you well." Salvatore chuckled, patting her face with his calloused hand.

I’m not giving you grief. I’m just not crazy about stuffed eggplant. Genna giggled. A waitress she remembered from her last visit stepped up to them. Genna asked for a glass of water and gratefully sipped from the glass the waitress, Heidi, put down.

Hello, Genna.

Tony! She didn’t want to see him, certainly not talk to him. What she wanted to do was forget she had ever loved him.

Tony, she mumbled over her shoulder.

How’s it goin’? Back in town? He waited as Heidi cashed out his tab.

Yeah, she said. Although she hated to say anything, family etiquette demanded she at least acknowledge his presence.

Well, maybe we can catch up later. His footfalls receded.

Not in this lifetime. Genna turned her attention back to her uncle who wore a pensive expression as he watched Tony walk out the door.

"I don’t know why you’ve come home, Bella, but I hope it wasn’t to reunite with that culo."

Genna shot her uncle a puzzled look. Why would he think she’d come home to see Tony of all people? I didn’t come here to see Tony. I came here to see you and Aunt Fortuna. Changing the subject, she asked, Where is she by the way? Her aunt had always been a fixture at the restaurant from nine to two every day, in the half-booth by the kitchen doors.

She had to babysit the boys. Your cousin’s got a doctor’s appointment. Sal made the sign of the cross.

What’s the matter with Angie?

Sal leaned forward and whispered, Girly problems.

Knowing Uncle Sally that could mean a thousand different things, nine-hundred and ninety-nine of them not being serious. I’ll ask Auntie when I see her. Where’s Rob? Down at the shop? Genna asked.

I would imagine. Sal glanced up at the big clock over the pass-through, It’s only eleven, you gonna’ go by there now, or you want some breakfast first? He rose from his stool without waiting for her answer and moved behind the long counter.

No, I couldn’t eat. I’ll just go down to the garage. I figure he’ll be mad because I didn’t stop to see him first but…. Genna finished her water and stood.

But you love your uncle more, right? Sal poured two large to-go cups of coffee, added sugar, milk, and ice and put them in a bag. He filled another bag with doughnuts and muffins. He placed both in front of Genna.

Here. Give him these. Maybe he won’t be so mad, eh?

Genna hugged her uncle, kissed him on both cheeks, and picked up the bags.

I’m assuming you’ll be home for dinner, Sal said.

You think I’d want Aunt Fortuna hunting me down? What time?

"Six, I’d imagine. Soon as she finds out you’re home she’s gonna’ be cooking like its Christmas. Ciao, Bella." He waved her off with a kiss on his fingertips.

Genna left the diner and walked down the side street to the lot where she’d parked her truck. She almost dropped the bags when she saw Tony leaning against it. Tall, dark, and mesmerizing, his leopard like grace pulled her in.

How’d you know this was mine? Outrage and a flit of desire consumed her.

It’s the only one with Delaware plates.

Damn. What do you want, Tony? She pushed the desire down. Loathing took its place.

I just wanted to talk to you, to see how you are. Ten years is a long time, Rosa. Too long to keep hating me, don’t ya’ think? He stood with one hand on the back of the truck bed. His million-dollar smile ignited a firestorm in her solar plexus.

She sucked in a deep breath and looked at him with what she hoped was repugnance. "Don’t call me that ever again. And ten years is nothing, it’s like a minute to me. I’ll hate you forever, Tony Testa. Get that through your thick head. I’m sorry about what happened to Debbie, but I don’t have anything to say to you. If you keep bothering me, I’ll call one of my uncles to make sure you don’t bother anyone anymore. Capisce?"

With the idle threat hanging in the air, Tony shrugged his shoulders, and walked out of the parking lot.

Genna placed her bags from the restaurant on the hood of the truck. She couldn’t seem to make the key fit into the lock, but finally managed to get the door open, grabbed the bags off the hood and put them on the passenger side floor. She crumpled herself into the driver’s seat.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my freaking God, Genna murmured to the windshield. Grabbing a cigarette from the pack on her dashboard, she lit it with trembling fingers. She slammed her free hand against the steering wheel and sat back with a groan. Genna could see half her reflection in the rear view mirror and turned it so she could see her whole face.

Oh Sweet Jesus up in Heaven, help me, Genna muttered. She pushed a crazy lock of hair off her forehead and back up into the tangled mess on top of her head. She wore no make-up, having gotten up at the ungodly hour of three-thirty for the drive home. Glancing down at her faded Bruce Springsteen t-shirt and cut-off sweat pants, she looked like she had just rolled out of bed, which she had.

She smashed the steering wheel once again. Why couldn’t she have at least taken the time to grab a shower? Because she had no idea, Tony would be there. How could she know? What in heaven’s name possessed him to be there, on this day, at this hour, at the exact moment she pulled in from Delaware?

And don’t tell me it’s a sign either, she said to the faded picture of her parents’ faces as they stared at her from the funeral card glued to her dashboard. It had been the last picture taken of them together at her cousin William’s First Communion, fifteen years earlier.

Getting ready for the trip, Genna had fantasized what her first reaction to seeing Tony would be; calm, cool, collected, forearmed with witty casual remarks, keeping her head, heart and her hatred in check. Well, that hadn’t gone the way she planned. Of course, she also hadn’t expected to see him two seconds after she got in. She had at least hoped, at The Club on Saturday night when she looked her best and had had time to prepare herself.

Madre di Dio! Would she ever get over him? Ten years and ten thousand miles had caused the ache in her heart to dull, but now seeing him in person; it all came bubbling back up to the surface. Lost love, agonizing disillusionment, and lust all mixed up to form a noxious combination.

"Argh!" She slammed her hands into the steering wheel once more before turning the key in the ignition.

Driving down Metacom Avenue, she made the right onto Kickemuit and pulled into a spot on the street two spaces up from Rob’s garage. She grabbed the bags off the floor and snuck into the garage, right past the big sign that read Customers are not allowed into the work area unless accompanied by a mechanic.

Who owns that piece of crap Thunderbird out front? Genna yelled in a deep voice. I just smashed into it. She put the bags on the floor knowing there would be reprisals for the T-bird remark.

Genna’s cousin, Roberto Giancarlo Genovase, hit his head on the hood of the Buick he was working on and swore in Italian. He couldn’t get out to the parking lot fast enough. The little antique coupe was his pride and joy.

Two guys in grease-stained cover-alls smirked when Rob returned to the bays.

"Okay, which one of you culos thought that was funny?" Rob yelled.

I did. Genna stepped out from behind the Dodge Charger up on the last lift.

"Gen-na?" Rob ran to her, lifted her off the ground in a giant bear hug, and twirled her until she thought she was going to throw up.

Put me down before I puke, she said. She waited for her stomach to catch up with the rest of her, and then grabbed the bags off the floor.

His voice a whisper, Rob asked, What the hell are you doing here? You in some kind of trouble? You need some money or something?

Her other cousin, William, trotted over and kissed her on the cheek. Hey Cuz’. How’s it goin’? That bag from Uncle Sally’s?

Yeah. She handed the bag of pastry to Will who took it and walked over to the office, the other mechanic on his heel. She reached into the bag she still held and handed Rob an iced coffee.

Pop make this or you? Rob shot her a mischievous grin.

Don’t be smart. Genna punched him in the arm. Her practical joke one April Fool’s Day with salt instead of sugar must have stuck in his mind after all these years.

All right, all right, I was only kidding, c’mon, let’s go sit in my office. Rob draped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the back of the building to a small area enclosed by an eight-foot high stockade fence. A shed of sorts housed auto parts, a few empty milk crates, and a canoe. A small patio table and plastic chairs were set up under a faded umbrella.

Rob took a sip of his coffee and sat back in a chair.

Okay, spill, what’re you doin’ home? Obviously, you saw Pop? Rob fished a crumpled pack of Marlboro’s out of his pocket and lit one.

Yeah, first thing. I figured you could wait. Genna took a sip from her iced coffee. Uncle Sally always made the best.

So, what are you doing? Rob asked. You quit that fancy club or what? They didn’t fire you, did they?

Genna waved a hand at him. No, nothing like that. I have some news and I thought I’d like to come home and share it considering I haven’t taken a vacation in the five years I’ve been there, so voilá. Here I am.

So, what’s the news? You’re not pregnant are you?

Don’t be stupid. I got a promotion. You are now looking at the new executive chef for the Littlefield Country Club. Genna smiled.

Rob whistled. I hope you got a big fat raise to go along with the fancy title.

Eighty grand a year with all the bennies, plus a membership to the course, no greens’ fees for my guests, and four weeks vacation. Genna leaned back with a self-satisfied smile.

Rob shot her an incredulous look. No kidding?

No kidding, Genna said.

Well, there’s no stopping you now is there.

Not by a long shot. Genna had always known that someday her ship would come in. A few more years at this job and she would have enough money saved to buy her own restaurant.

You tell Pop yet? Rob asked.

No. I figured I’d wait until dinner. You gonna be there?

Do you really think I have any kind of a choice? He stood. You see Angie yet?

No. Genna smiled as they walked to the street. I was gonna’ call her in a little while. What time are you going to be home? She stopped at the door to her truck.

I don’t live there anymore remember? You’ve got the whole place to yourself.

Genna sighed, she had forgotten. Sally said dinner was at six. She kissed him on the cheek. I’ll see you later." She got in the truck and slammed the door.

Hey, he said. It’s good to have you back.

Genna smiled. Thanks, Rob. It’s good to be back.

Rob patted the roof of the Toyota.

Genna released the parking brake, pushed in the clutch, put the five-speed in gear and drove down Metacom Avenue until she reached the corner at Mt. Hope, took a right, a left onto Fox Hill, another right and made her way down to one-hundred-thirty-two Charles Street. Home.

*****

Genna parked the truck in the street, grabbed her suitcases, and walked up the garden lined driveway, noticing the Black-eyed Susans, Montauk daisies, and coreopsis in full bloom. Her Aunt Fortuna was the envy of the neighborhood and could grow anything. Even pot once when Rob told her it was a high school science project. Rob said it was the best homegrown he and his friends had ever smoked.

Genna climbed the three steps to the porch and tried not to step on the array of herbs, flowers, and green things growing in clay pots, old coffee cans, and plastic margarine tubs. No space on the floor or enlarged railings was wasted. She picked a sprig of basil from the over-sized terra cotta urn on the floor and put it in her mouth.

Holding the screen door with her leg, she slid her key into the lock and opened the big wooden door to the two-story, two-family Victorian. The door to Fortuna and Sally’s apartment stood open, as usual. They never bothered to close it, and Genna smelled the old, comforting aroma of garlic, Uncle Sally’s cigars, and Aunt Fortuna’s Chanel No. 5.

Genna looked up the hallway to the second floor. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm as she climbed the stairs with more than a little trepidation. She had no idea what the old apartment would look like now. Genna told her aunt the last time she’d been there, three years before, Fortuna could do whatever she wanted with the place. Technically, it belonged to Sal and Fortuna anyway. Aside from her parent’s bedroom furniture, and the pictures of her parents, there was nothing else she wanted. Both Angie and Rob had lived there at one time or another over the years. Who knew what she would find when she reached the landing?

The apartment door stood open and Genna could see, except for fresh paint, everything was the same, the furniture, the pictures, even the plants on the windowsills.

She eased into the apartment and looked around. Her eyes burned when she saw her parents’ wedding portrait over the fake fireplace mantel in the front parlor. She walked to it and traced her fingertips lightly over the glass. She kissed her fingers and touched their faces. Her gaze slid to the wall over the sofa where other family photos hung willy-nilly from frames that didn’t match. Genna at six in her Easter outfit, Genna in her First Communion dress, Genna, Angie, and Rob in the back yard wading pool, Angie and Genna in their ballet costumes, Mommy and Pappi behind Genna at her tenth birthday party blowing out the candles on her cake.

Genna’s throat closed and she put her fingers on the bridge of her nose.

Why had she never bothered to take the pictures with her?

Genna moved through the apartment—Rob’s old bedroom, now Uncle Sally’s home office, Genna’s room with the same pink gingham curtains, and little canopy bed brought back a thousand memories of her childhood. Her parent’s bedroom, with its heavy mahogany furniture, cream velvet flowered wallpaper, and the cream velvet curtains that her mother had sewn herself reopened the deep ache in Genna’s midsection. She stood in front of the double dresser with its carved framed mirror and lovingly picked up the picture of her parents smiling out of the gold frame on their honeymoon in Salerno. Memories ripped at her heart.

Tears fell unbidden down her cheeks as she placed the picture back on the dresser, and collapsed across the bed. Sobbing, she knew it had been a mistake to come home. Who was it who said you couldn’t go home again?

Rosa? Honey? Are you here? Her aunt’s voice float from downstairs.

Genna sat up, wiped her tears, slipped off the bed, and