Total Rush

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Book: Read Total Rush for Free Online
Authors: Deirdre Martin
Mom.
    â€œHello, Mom.” Gemma leaned in to kiss her mother’s cheek; her mother flinched slightly. She also kissed her aunts. Millie covertly winked at her as if to say, “Don’t mind your mother,” but Betty Anne was cold as marble.
    â€œYou look good,” Aunt Millie croaked, her gravelly voice betraying her lifelong, three-pack-a-day Winston habit.
    â€œI can’t believe you came to church,” her mother snapped.
    â€œI was invited, Mom.” Gemma was determined not to take the bait. “I’m a member of this family, too.”
    â€œYou should have just come to the party. To show up at the house of God . . .” She made the sign of the cross while emitting a heavy theatrical sigh.
    â€œDon’t start,” Gemma implored quietly.
    â€œI’m not starting anything,” her mother insisted shrilly, eyeing her younger sisters for backup. “Am I?”
    Betty Anne’s eyes fell to the ground. Millie excused herself for a smoke. That said it all. God forbid anyone stand up to Constance Annamaria Grimaldi Dante.
    â€œI’m going to go talk to Nonna,” Gemma informed her mother politely. I tried, she told herself. That’s what matters.
    Still, she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.
    She found her grandmother still inside the church, talking to one of the priests. Nonna’s tiny, gnarled hands were waving madly, while the rapid-fire patter of her voice told Gemma that this priest was not number one in Nonna’s hit parade. Gemma approached carefully, not wanting to interrupt. But the minute her grandmother caught sight of her, the tirade halted and she broke into a wide, delighted smile.
    â€œ Bella, I’ve been waiting for you!” She smiled knowingly at the young priest. “This is my granddaughter, Gemma. Bet you wish priests could get married, eh?”
    â€œNonna!” Gemma turned to the priest. “Please, Father. She didn’t mean it.”
    The priest coughed uncomfortably and hurried off, clearly relieved to be free of speaking to an old devil like Nonna.
    â€œI can’t believe you did that!”
    â€œWhat, told the truth?” Nonna snorted, watching the priest hustle up the center aisle of the church. “Tight ass,” she added disdainfully.
    â€œNonna!” Gemma exclaimed again. Depending on who you asked, Maria Grimaldi was either “a pip,” “a character,” “a loon,” or “a royal pain in the ass.” To Gemma, she was simply Nonna, the grandmother she adored, and who loved her unconditionally.
    â€œHere, let me look at you.”
    Gemma dutifully held still beneath her grandmother’s loving eye, Nonna’s head bobbing in approval. “Beautiful.”
    â€œYou always say that.”
    â€œBecause it’s always true.” Her hand clasped Gemma’s forearm for support. Gemma jumped.
    â€œNonna, your hands are freezing!”
    â€œMy blood’s getting too tired to make the full round.” She waved a hand in the air. “It happens.”
    That was Nonna: no nonsense, philosophical about the passing of time. She’d been a great beauty, and to Gemma was beautiful still, with her long, white braid and her big, green eyes that were always alert, always watchful. “Have you held the bambina yet?” Nonna asked.
    â€œNot yet. There’s quite a crowd around her.”
    â€œShe’s gorgeous. Perfect. Her name is Theresa.”
    â€œTheresa is her mother, Nonna,” Gemma laughed. “The baby is Domenica.”
    â€œRight, right,” Nonna replied hastily. “Domenica.” Slowly, they made their way toward the open church doors to join the rest of the family.
    â€œSo, your mother,” Nonna began, her steps small and careful.
    Gemma’s eyes darted down to meet her grandmother’s. “What about her?”
    â€œIs she still upset about La Stregheria,

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