Blue Smoke

together, she reminded herself as she grabbed the phone to take an order for delivery. They talked, often for hours. She loved listening to him talk about his writing, how he wanted to tell stories about small towns, like the one where he grew up in Ohio. Stories about people, and what they did to and for each other.
    And he listened. He seemed equally interested when she told him that she wanted to study and train, to understand fire and why.
    Now she didn’t just have a date for Bella’s wedding. She was bringing her boyfriend.

    She was still grinning over the idea when she swung into the prep area for the first time. Her mother was taking vegetables out of one of the big, stainless steel refrigerators. Pete, now the father of three, stood at the prep counter cutting dough from holding bowls to weigh for pizza crust.
    “Hey, college girl! Give us a smooch.”
    Reena threw her arms around his neck, gave him a noisy kiss dead on the lips.
    “When’d you get back?”
    “Fifteen minutes ago. Walked in the door, they put me to work.”
    “Slave drivers.”
    “You don’t get that dough weighed, I’m getting the whip. Now let go of my girl before I tell your wife.” Bianca threw open her arms. Reena went into them.
    “How do you stay so beautiful?” Reena asked her.
    “It’s the steam in the kitchen. Keeps the pores clean. Oh, baby girl, let me look at you.”
    “You saw me two weeks ago at Bella’s Bridal Shower of the Century.”
    “Two weeks, two days.” Bianca pulled back. Her smile faltered for a moment, and something came and went in her eyes.
    “What? What?”
    “Nothing.” But Bianca pressed a kiss to her brow, like a benediction. “I’ve got all my children home again. Pete, go switch with Catarina. She’ll take over for you in here. We want to be girls.”
    “More wedding talk. I’m already getting a headache.” Waving his hands, Pete scooted out.
    “Am I in trouble?” Only half joking, Reena got a bottle of water out of the cooler. “Did the crack I made about the bridesmaid dress making me look like an anemic scallion get back to Bella?”
    “No, and you’ll look beautiful, even if the dress is . . . unfortunate.”
    “Oooh, diplomacy.”
    “Diplomacy is my last tool of survival in this wedding business. Otherwise, I’d have snapped Bella’s neck like a twig by now.” She lifted ahand, shook her head. “She can’t help it. She’s excited, terrified, wildly in love, and she wants Vince to be proud of her—all while impressing his parents, looking like a movie star and trying to furnish a big new house.”
    “Sounds like she’s in her element.”
    “True enough. Your dad needs dough for two large and a medium,” she added, and watched as Reena competently cut and weighed. “You don’t forget how.”
    “I was born weighing dough.”
    She put the extra dough back in the cooler, took out what her father needed. Then joined her mother at the work counter to pitch in with salad.
    “Two house for table six. I’ll take the Greek for station three. This wedding is the biggest dream of her life.” Bianca continued as they chopped. “I want her to have exactly what she wants. I want all my children to have exactly what they want.”
    She loaded a tray, moved it to the pick-up area. “Order up,” she called out, then moved back to fill another.
    “You’ve been with a boy.”
    The water felt like a hard little ball when Reena managed to swallow. “What?”
    “You think I can’t look at you and see?” Bianca kept her voice low, gauging her husband’s proximity and the noise element that would cover her words. “That I couldn’t see with each of my children? You were the last.”
    “Xander’s been with a boy?”
    To Reena’s relief, Bianca laughed. “So far he prefers girls. Do I know the boy?”
    “No. It just . . . We started seeing each other a while ago, and it just happened. Just last week. I wanted it to happen, Mama. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but—”
    “Did I say that? Did I ask you about your conscience, or your choice? You were careful?”
    “Yes. Mama.” Reena put the knife down, turned to wrap her arms around her mother’s waist. “We were careful. I like him so much. You will, too.”

    “How do I know if I’ll like him when you don’t bring him home to meet your family? When you don’t tell me anything about him.”
    “He’s a lit major. He’s going to be a writer. He keeps a sloppy apartment and has the sweetest