Mom jumped in, not able to help herself. “We see this rickshaw—which is basically a bicycle with a small covered seat. He waves us over, and we figured we’d give it a try because we would have missed our train.”

I picked up the story. “We get into this tiny seat and squish together, and he starts pedaling like a bat out of hell through these wet city streets. Oh my God, I thought we were dead. He went through yellow lights and skidded in puddles, and the plastic covering began to leak, and we were drenched anyway by the time we got to the train station.”

Mom doubled over in laughter at the memory. “We were screaming for him not to kill us and trying to huddle under our jackets as we got drenched. Finally, he skids up to Grand Central and we’re both shaking and—”

“He asks Mom for one hundred and fifty dollars!” I finished.

Enzo and Ian gasped. “Are you kidding?” Ian asked. “That’s insane.”

“I know! So Mom says absolutely not, and he starts screaming in the rain that he’ll call the police because by taking the ride we agreed to the terms.”

“And he sticks this wet, torn piece of paper into my hand and starts pointing at the fee schedule and how many miles he pedaled. It was a nightmare.”

“You didn’t pay him?” Enzo asked.

Mom sighed in defeat. “No, I did. I gave him a hundred-dollar bill because I just wanted to get dry, and he was starting to scare me, and I told him take it or leave it. He took it.”

Ian groaned. “You got played.”

“Big-time, but that happens all the time in the city. Here I was thinking I was a native and too experienced to get played, yet I lost a hundred bucks on the worst ride of my life.”

Nonni shook her head. “You two are some pair. Tell them what you did the next time you took your daughter to the city.”

Mom winced. “I hired a limo. I couldn’t deal with the drive or the train.”

Everyone cracked up. A warm glow shot through me. I didn’t often get the opportunity to sit around the table and talk like I’d done the past month. It felt like we were a makeshift family, and I realized how important food was to bond people. I wished we’d be able to continue the tradition when I returned home.

Nonni finished her coffee and stood up. “Well, I’m off to bed. These old bones have had enough.”

We said good night. Ian and I shared a glance. “Mom, Ian and I are going for a walk. I want to show him the lake.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Bring a blanket in case you’re cold or want to sit. It’s really beautiful at night.”

“Thanks.”