Chapter 12: The More Things Change...

The next four years rolled by and I was facing my thirtieth birthday. A succession of temporary girlfriends came and went, none of them really “keepers.” I was beginning to despair that I would never find that one woman who was exactly right for me.

My grandparents were approaching their eightieth birthdays, but still in good health and genuinely enjoying their retirement. Three years previously, they had decided to move into a small gated community designed for seniors. The old house was just too big for them to keep up. We could have put it on the market and made a tidy sum, but in the end, I bought out John’s share and remained in the big house. Perhaps I was hoping at some point I could add a wife and children to help fill it up. I had been upgrading it regularly with a new heat pump, a tank-less water heater, and some new windows and doors. I had the outside painted in traditional colors, since it was a very traditional farmhouse style design and fit nicely in the neighborhood.

Solomon’s music was doing very well, and I patted myself on the back for investing in it. Solomon was still very active in the business, but told me often how much more he was enjoying it. We’d accomplished a lot in the five years I’d been there. Almost all the old inventory was sold, with a few odds and ends given away or sent to the landfill. My investments were also doing well, so I was financially in good shape. I’d traded the Impala in on a new 2011 Ford Explorer. It was plenty big enough and had all the options I could ever want, and many that I probably would never use.

I visited my grandparents at least twice a month in their new home in Petaluma. It was new, very nice, large enough for both of them plus a guest or two, with a central social center and a yard service. There was nothing that they needed to do if they wanted to go on a trip except to lock the door and let the security people know when they would be back. They had adapted to the new surrounding very quickly, and Gramma often mentioned all the new friends they had made. I felt much better when I heard that. I missed them around the house, but they were in a much better place for them.

I still kept in touch with the Alvarez family. Mama Alvarez would phone now and then and invite me to dinner ... usually on a Saturday. I seldom turned her down. I knew I would get the news from Italy and Marianna, but it no longer hurt to hear of her glamorous life. I missed her still, but as the saying goes, that ship had sailed.

I was sitting in the stands one June Wednesday night, watching a local high school baseball game when my new cell phone chirped. I recognized the number, it was the Alvarez number.

“Hello, Mama,” I said with a smile in my voice. I’d long since reverted to calling her Mama. She was as close to a real mother as I’d ever had.

“How did you know it was me?” she said after she got over the surprise.

“Ah, my new magic cell phone knows all. Besides, who else would call me?” I chuckled.

“Oh ... you are so smart, Nico. I am calling to invite you to dinner Saturday night. It has been a long time since you’ve come here. It’s time. Please say you will be here,” she pleaded.

“Of course I will. I’ll never miss a home cooked meal by you, Mama.”

“Wonderful. I will have news for you when you come. See you Saturday. Don’t be late,” she said before hanging up.

Huh, I thought. That was pretty abrupt for her. Oh well, I’ll be there and I won’t be late. Four in the afternoon should be soon enough.

Our Saturday morning session had been very lively and once more I was delighted with how much enjoyment the kids got from our sessions. It was an equal portion of enjoyment for me as well. If I wanted my spirits lifted, this was all it took.

Our home was only a few minutes from the Alvarez home and I was on the front porch just before four o’clock. As usual, I rang the door bell, then walked in. Papa Alvarez greeted me with his usual hug and handshake.

“Good to see you Nico. We have a surprise for you,” he said.

“Hush, Papa,” Mama Alvarez admonished her husband. The surprise can wait. Nico, would you like a beer?” she asked.

“Yes ... that would be nice, thank you,” I said, wondering what the mysterious surprise was as I sat at one end of the living room sofa.

“All is well at the store, Nico?” Papa asked.

“All is very well at the store. We’ll never get rich, but it is a good business and the changes we’ve made are working out very well. I’m even thinking about adding some new equipment for our more sophisticated customers. Mixing boards and home recording equipment are becoming very popular. The computer age has really changed the industry.”

“Ah!” Papa said with a wave of his hand. “I do not understand this computer thing. But our children say they must have them to do their jobs properly. So ... I go along with it.”

Miguel Alvarez managed several small vineyards with his sons and a son-in-law. They were constantly measuring growth, water supply, pruning, and cutting out and replacing the over-mature stocks. Until recently, it was almost exclusively hand labor and experienced calculations. Now, computers recorded water content, soil temperature, and warding off a variety of anti-fungal, pesticides, and diseases that could attack the vines. His offspring had become very knowledgeable and valuable to the business.

Mama handed me a Negra Modelo, knowing full well it was my favorite. Gradually, the boys trooped in from the fields and we greeted each other with familiarity.