Free Moon Shadow: The Totally True Love Adventure Series (Volume 1) by R.L. Fox

served in honor of Julie’s twenty-third birthday, and of Dan’s homecoming.
    We’ve eaten antipasto salads and the traditional main course, spaghetti and meatballs. Except Dan, who’s consumed almost an entire pepperoni pizza. I’d like to think he was showing off, for my benefit. My mother and Frank are sharing a bottle of premium red wine. Dan and I are drinking Pepsi.
    Apparently the restaurant has been a Rosen family’s Sunday favorite for years; Frank and the Sicilian head of the Marechiaro clan are chums. Mike had commented earlier about how strange it is here without Mary, Frank’s wife who died.
    As I sit anxiously waiting for Dan to return to his seat, Frank clears his throat. He’s at his cavalier best in a Brooks Brothers suit, vested, navy-blue with white pinstripes. Impeccable. That’s my impression of him, anyway. My mother has coached me in men’s, and women’s, fashion, so I should know. She’s also told me that Frank is the type of man who can take over a room full of people with his assured tone of voice.
    “Well, we have a birthday to celebrate tonight,” Frank says. “Julie has turned twenty-three. There’s quite a range of ages here this evening. Sarah, can you tell us your age, that is, if it’s not a secret?”
    I smile my wholesome smile. Frank has surprised me with the question, but I respond quickly. “I’m fifteen,” I hear myself say proudly. But then I start to think that my age seems awfully young, and I’m glad Dan hasn’t returned to the table.
    My mother interjects, “Sarah’s birth date is May twenty-seventh.”
    Frank changes the subject to the war in Afghanistan. My mother and Mike and Julie join the discussion. I sit quietly for a moment. I love the way adults will forget I’m around, and then say the most amazing things. I watch the Sicilian brothers working the pizza ovens, and I survey the wall-sized murals of Venetian waterways, of vineyards and rolling hills in the Roman countryside. Garlands of grape vines adorn the ceiling; red and white bouquets are pictured on the walls between booths. Italian mood music plays softly from somewhere.
    Why is Dan taking so long?
    Suddenly Mike says, just as if I had asked my question aloud, “Dan’s been known to take his sweet time in the bathroom. It’s a sanctuary for people like him.” Julie whispers something in Mike’s ear.
    Mike’s sandy hair is arranged into a peak, fifties style, like the comb of a rooster. He seems nice, but he isn’t nearly as good-looking as Dan. Dan’s is a face that must have been patiently assembled by God.
    Frank looks at Mike and thrusts out his chin, sort of motioning towards the restroom, a gesture I’ve seen in black and white gangster movies when the boss wants his crony to fetch or follow someone.
    As Mike goes after Dan, I ask myself why Mike married Julie. They don’t seem to fit together very well.
    The waiter brings the black-forest cake, rich and damp in two layers. I turn around in my chair and can see that Mike and Dan are standing just outside the restroom. They appear to be arguing. Then Mike disappears into the restroom, and Dan returns to the table.
    Standing next to me, Dan addresses everyone. “Sorry about not staying for cake,” he says. “The dance recital starts at eight o’clock. They won’t let you in until intermission if you’re late.”
    Frank says, “Sarah, do you find the ballet appealing?” Before I have time to reply, he adds, “Dan, why don’t you take Sarah with you to the performance? Perhaps you can show her around the Valley afterwards, and take her home. Dan’s been dying to meet you, Sarah.”
    I look at Dan to see if such a thing might be true. I see that it is not. Is Frank lying?
    “It’s not the ballet, Dad,” Dan says, sort of condescendingly.
    I giggle nervously. I’m fidgeting eagerly in my chair, but I just know disappointment is forthcoming.
    Dan says, nonchalantly, “Sure, I’d be happy to show Sarah around.”
    I