By the time we arrive at the mansion, my headache is in full throttle. I follow Monie and the kids inside. As we remove our jackets, the aroma of roasting turkey and venison, sage, and rosemary permeates the Taratoni residence. The murmur of Andrea Bocelli’s rich tenor voice floats throughout the mansion. We’re here earlier this year to help Sophie with the rest of the cooking and setting the table. At seventy-one, the old matriarch is slowing down.
When I shut the closet door, I see Padre and Lou coming down the hall. He opens his arms wide to collect Christie, who flies into them. “How’s my little perla?”
“Good, Nonno.” She looks over to Lou, standing nearby. “Is Bella here yet?”
“Yes, she is, and she’s waiting for you,” Lou says.
Bella is Lou’s eleven-year-old granddaughter, who Chr
