Her thoughts were clearly a mile away, probably running through every possible negative scenario that could happen.

Aldo laughed and squeezed her hand, not buying her bravado for a minute. “How about I promise to keep my mother in line, and you handle yours? Divide and conquer.”

Gloria nodded. “Okay. We can do this. It probably won’t be terrible. I mean the food will be good at least, even if they hate each other and get into a screaming match over European soccer teams.”

“Does your mom watch soccer?” Aldo asked.

“No.”

Aldo laughed.

She was quiet for another minute and then said, “We should have brought Ivan. He could have distracted them from fighting with total house destruction.”

They picked up his mother, who insisted on sitting in the back seat and then complained the whole way to Gloria’s mother’s house about the lack of leg room. Gloria, trying to be accommodating, rode the rest of the way with her knees in the dashboard.

“Ma, shut up,” Aldo told Ina in the rear-view mirror.

“I bet you don’t talk to your mother with such disrespect,” she sniffed to Gloria.

“Her mom doesn’t have the manners of a child raised by wolves,” Aldo pointed out.

“What’s in the bag?” she demanded, rooting through the gift bag Aldo had on the floor behind his seat.

“Get out of the bag, Ma! It’s for Gloria’s mom.” Gloria looked surprised and delighted.

“Why don’t I get a present?” his mother pouted.

“Isn’t being my mother gift enough?” Aldo joked.

His mother thought that was pretty funny and laughed the rest of the way to their destination.

* * *

The introductions went well, in Aldo’s opinion. His mother didn’t say the f-word, and the fashionista Sara didn’t make any comments about or stare too long at Ina’s God-awful gravy-brown sweater and matching polyester pants.

They were on a first name basis, and there was alcohol. Aldo considered it a win.

It was time to turn up the charm. “Mrs. Parker, Gloria tells me you make a mean margarita,” Aldo said.

“Call me Sara. And yes, I do,” she said, eyes twinkling as she winked at her daughter.

They made a picture, Gloria and Sara together. Both dark hair and dark eyes, the same smile.

Aldo handed over the gift bag. “I thought these might come in handy next time you’re mixing.”

Eagerly, Sara unpackaged the glass set. He’d found the handblown bubble margarita glasses in the window of a gift shop when he was rushing between meetings. He’d been ten minutes late to his appointment with the architect, but Sara’s approving look made it worth it.

Gloria stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek. “Nice going, kiss ass,” she whispered. She was relaxing, finally. Trusting him not to let her down.