Dressed in slacks and a polo shirt, and having left his swim trunks at home, Giancarlo had no intentions of testing the water that day. Instead, taking care not to get splashed, he maneuvered his way through the crowd around the pool toward Anthony, who at the moment was stationed at the grill, over in the far corner of the yard. There, arrayed in a white chef ’s apron and a Red Sox cap, he was busy at work grilling up some marinated lamb chops.The sight of his cousin gave Giancarlo cause to smile, for he knew that there were few things Anthony enjoyed better than cooking for the masses at one of his legendary cookouts. The afternoon breeze, however, was kicking up, and a gust of wind had just nudged the smoke into Anthony’s face, briefly sullying his high spirits. Muttering some unmentionable remarks about the smoke and the infernal regions from which it had apparently sprung, he whipped off his cap to fan it from his face just as Giancarlo approached. At seeing him, Anthony gave a cough to clear the smoke from his throat and waved a greeting with the tongs he was using to turn the lamb chops.

“Ayyy, there he is, finalmente,” said Anthony amiably. “We were beginning to think that maybe you weren’t coming.”

“I had a few things to do earlier,” offered Giancarlo. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be sorry,” laughed Anthony. “Just grab a plate and have something to eat. We have enough here to feed the Turkish army.”

Anthony gestured to the table set up beneath the awning of the little pool cabana.There the rest of the feast was laid out. Giancarlo well knew that hot dogs and hamburgers alone would never have done. And so, besides these, he was not surprised to find that those in attendance had also been treated to platters of steak and sausage and barbecued chicken, along with bowls of pasta and potato salads, and grilled zucchini, summer squash, and other vegetables. There were roasted red peppers, oranges sliced and drenched in olive oil, stuffed mushrooms, and more—all this before even considering the red, white, and blue cupcakes, the assorted cookies and pastries, and the enormous cake decorated like an American flag.

“Go ahead, make yourself a plate, Giancarlo, and then we’ll talk,” said Anthony. He looked about for his wife. “Celeste, Giancarlo is here!” he called. At catching her eye, the two exchanged furtive looks. “Why don’t you get him a beer to have with his food,” he suggested. Then, turning back to Giancarlo, “Go on, Giancarlo. Celeste will take care of you.”