Adriana Trigiani - Milk Glass Moon

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

How lucky I am to have Anthony Trigiani for my father! He has the best comic timing of anyone I have ever met. My dad is a big risk taker, and never seemed to care what the outcome of taking a chance would be, just that it was important to try. That sort of fearlessness is catching, and it made me ask the question, Whats the worst thing that could happen if I try this new thing? When my father taught me how to drive, he said something at a yellow light that I always remember: He who hesitates is lost. It never made much sense to me, until I understood the heart of that sentiment: make a decision and move. It works in driving and it works in life.

At magnificent Random House, my everlasting thanks to my Editor Queen, Lee Boudreaux, the fabulous Ann Godoff, Prince of Publicity Todd Doughty (someone please find anyone on earth who works harder!), Dan Rembert, Beth Pearson, Ivan Held, Laura Ford, Libby McGuire, Victoria Wong, Allison Heilborn, Ed Brazos, Eileen Becker, Steve Wallace, Sherry Huber, and Stacy Rockwood. At Ballantine: the great team led by the amazing Gina Centrello, Maureen ONeal, Allison Dickens, Kim Hovey, Candice Chaplin, Kathleen Spinelli, and Cindy Murray. And thank you to the irreplaceable Lorie Stoopack.

To Suzanne Gluck, the best agent on earth and an even better friend, my love and gratitude. More of the same to WMAs hit parade, including: Emily Nurkin, Karen Gerwin, Jennifer Rudolph Walsh, and Cara Stein. At ICM, more still to my champion Nancy Josephson, Jill Holwager, Ben Smith, Caroline Sparrow, Betsy Robbins, and Margaret Halton. In Movieland, I adore and thank Lou Pitt, John Farrell, Michael Pitt, Jim Powers, and Todd Steiner.

My love and thanks to the fabulous Mary Testa, Tom Dyja, Ruth Pomerance, Rosanne Cash, Bill Persky, Joanna Patton, Phyllis George, June Lawton, Larry Sanitsky, Jeanne Newman, Debra McGuire, John Melfi, Grace Naughton, Dee Emmerson, Gina Casella, Sharon Hall, Beth Thomas, Wendy Luck, Sharon Watroba Burns, Nancy Ringham, Constance Marks, Cynthia Rutledge Olson, Jasmine Guy, Susan Toepfer, Craig Fisse, Joanne Curley Kerner, Max Westler, Pamela Cannon, Dana and Richard Kirshenbaum, Marisa Acocella, Sister Jean Klene, Reg Bain, Fred Syburg, Susan and Sam Franzeskos, Jake and Jean Morrissey, Beata and Steven Baker, Brownie Polly, Aaron Hill and Susan Fales Hill, Kare Jackowski, Rhoda Dresken, Bob Kelty, Christina Avis Krauss and Sonny Grosso, Greg Cantrell, Rachel DeSario, Mary Murphy, Rita Braver, and Irene Taylor. Heaps of gratitude and love to Caroline Rhea, president of the Ave Maria Fan Club, and to the ever-true Elena Nachmanoff and Dianne Festamy love and thanks and a big dinner that includes liquor. Thank you and love to Michael Patrick King for inflating my life raft and giving me the shove out to sea.

To the Trigiani and Stephenson families, to my Italian relatives, the Spada, Maj, and Bonicelli families, thank you. To the people of Big Stone Gap and their neighbors in the Blue Ridge and Appalachians, my everlasting gratitude for your support and readership.

And to my husband, Tim Stephenson, who shares my life and the fear dance at three a.m., thank you for everything else, so considerable in size and scope it could not fit in the state of Rhode Island.

ALSO BY ADRIANA TRIGIANI

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ADRIANA TRIGIANI grew up in Big Stone Gap and now lives with her husband in New York City. In addition to being the bestselling author of Big Stone Gap andBig Cherry Holler, she is an award-winning playwright, television writer, and documentary filmmaker. She has written the screenplay for the film version of Big Stone Gap, which she will also direct.

CHAPTER ONE

The Wise County Fair is my daughters favorite event of the year, and I think its safe to say that includes Christmas. Etta has been on her best behavior for the past two weeks, so perfect down to the smallest detail (including unassigned chores like making my bed and weeding my garden) that Im worried.

We have the window flaps of the Jeep down, and the warm August air whipping through is sweet with honeysuckle. Still, it is no match for Iva Lous perfume, which wafts up to the front seat whenever we peel around a curve. Etta looks out the window for road signs, searching for proof that were almost there. Ive taken the quicker route, the valley road out of Big Stone Gap up to Norton. As we ascend the mountains in twilight, we pass Coeburn nestled in the valley below, where the cluster of lights twinkles like a scoop of emeralds. Etta smoothes her braids and settles back in her seat.

Heres the plan. First we eat, Iva Lou announces as she unfolds the special to the newspaper. I myself am having a jumbo caramel apple with nuts, and if I have to go see Doc Guest for a bridge on Monday, then so be it. Them caramel apples are worth a molar.

I want the blue cotton candy, Etta decides.

I want a chili dog with onions, I reply.

I have a lot of money, Etta says proudly as she sifts through her change purse.

Ask Dad to spring for dinner. That will leave you more money for the games of chance.

Etta smiles and carefully counts her money without lifting it out of the purse. I see a five-dollar bill folded neatly into a small square (some lucky clay-pigeon operator is about to score a windfall).

What if we cant find him? she asks.

Well find him.

Just go straight to the outdoor the-a-ter. Hes up there with all them men checking out the rehearsal for Miss Lonesome Pine.

He built the stage, I remind Iva Lou in a tone that says, Dont start with that again.

Thats as good a reason as any, then. Iva Lou meets my eye in the rearview mirror and winks.

We find a parking spot under a tree overlooking the fairgrounds and climb out of the Jeep. Iva Lou checks her hair in the drivers side mirror and then smiles at us, ready to go. Shes wearing a pair of dark blue denim pedal pushers and a red bandanna-print blouse tied at the waist. Her Diamonelle hoop earrings peek out from under her platinum bob like giant waterwheels. Iva Lou is ageless; you would never know she is fifty-something. Her look, however, is best viewed from a distance, like a fine painting. You dont want to get so close that you get lost in the details.

Etta looks at the fairgrounds with a clinical eye, surveying the faded striped tents surrounded by torches like birthday candles. She smiles when she spots the Ferris wheel. Ma, will you go on the rides with me?

Sure. But Etta knows that at the last second in line, when were ready to go up the metal plank, Ill send her father with her instead.

Do we have to go to the beauty pageant? she asks.

I thought you liked it.

I like the dresses all right. The talents always terrible. Etta shrugs. Shes right. Last year, leggy blond Ellen Tierney, representing Big Stone Gap, did a dance routine to Happy to Keep Your Dinner Warm; her tap shoe flew off when she did a high kick, clocked a man in the first row, and knocked him out. The victim was rushed to the hospital and revived, but he may have the imprint of the metal tap on his forehead for life. And I hate the physical-fitness part when they come out and jump around in bathing suits. Anybody can do that stuff.

Etta, hon, it dont take a lot of talent to look good in a bathing suit. That youre born with. Iva Lou breathes deeply and straightens her shoulders. I ought to know.

Im never gonna be in a beauty pageant, Etta announces.

Me neither. I give my daughter a quick hug.

The benches in the outdoor theater are filling up fast. The aisles are covered in Astroturf runners; the stage is banked in garlands of red paper roses; the backdrop is a cutout of a giant pine tree with MISS LONESOME PINE written in gold leaf.