Gabriel
There hadn’t been a party at the Segretto house since before my father died. My dad, for all his old world eccentricities, loved a good neighbourhood party. And the neighbourhood loved it when my dad threw a party because it usually involved a lot of good food and Italian wine.
But, this party was being thrown by the new generation of Segrettos. There was no wine, no beer, no spirits. But there were soft drinks and organic juice boxes on ice. There were kids running around with pin wheels, bubble guns, and kazoos, hot dogs and hamburgers were sizzling on two side-by-side gas grills, and Beth and Mrs. McBride had put together an impressive array of salads and sides to go with the grilled meat.
Getting Isaiah released from that damn kid-jail for the day was no small feat. DCF was
