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Julie and Romeo Get Lucky, by Jeanne Ray
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Julie Roseman and Romeo Cacciamani know a thing or two about good fortune. For generations, their families were rival florists and bitter enemies. Then Julie and Romeo met by chance, just as each became single again. Even more miraculous, they fell in love.
Three years later, Julie and Romeo are still blissfully happy. They don’t often get a quiet moment alone, and rarely manage a night―quiet or otherwise―in the same bed, but Julie feels blessed by what they do have: true love, wonderful jobs, and houses packed to the rafters with family. Romeo’s ninety-three-year-old mother, his son Alan, Alan’s wife and their three children live with him; Julie’s daughter Sandy and her family―including Sandy’s Willy Wonka-obsessed daughter, Sarah, and their cat―live with her. The odds of Julie and Romeo getting a few days of peace together seem about as likely as winning the lottery.
But their wish comes true―with a twist―when an injury puts Romeo flat on his back in Julie’s room. Spending days in bed may sound heavenly, but with Romeo on pain pills, initially as comatose as Juliet in her tomb, the reality is less romantic. Then Julie’s other daughter, Nora, drops her own crisis on her mother’s doorstep. Now Julie has to figure out how to run two flower shops, take care of an ever-expanding household, nurse her beloved Romeo back to health, tackle Sarah’s fixation with lottery tickets, and keep her daughters from regressing into full-scale teenage bickering. And Lady Luck has one more surprise in store…
Wonderfully witty and unerringly wise, Julie and Romeo Get Lucky is a smart, heartwarming story of timeless love and family loyalty, and a reminder that if you suddenly get everything you ever wished for, the only thing to do is live happily ever after.
- Sales Rank: #1192196 in Books
- Brand: Pocket
- Published on: 2005-05-24
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 1.02" h x 5.72" w x 7.70" l,
- Binding: Hardcover
- 320 pages
- Great product!
Review
"I just loved it and couldn't put it down."
-- Claire Cook, author of Must Love Dogs
About the Author
The author of three previous novels, Jeanne Ray works as a registered nurse at the Frist Clinic in Nashville, Tennessee. She is married and has two daughters. Together, she and her husband have ten grandchildren.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
I heard the Candyman's voice as soon as I opened the door.
"Who can make the sun shine?" he asked.
Romeo leaned in close to me, whispered against the back of my neck, "He's in there."
It was October in Somerville, Massachusetts, and fall was whipping around us with flat orange leaves cutting through the cool orange light of late afternoon. I was going into my house with the man that I loved, that man I was too old to call my boyfriend and too square to call my lover. The man I thought of always as my good fortune, Romeo.
But the Candyman stopped me cold. It was a visceral reaction. Every time I heard him, I wanted to run screaming down the street.
"Sprinkle it with dew," the Candyman sang.
I closed my eyes and panted a little, a technique I used to help quell nausea. The thought of all that candy -- which had seemed like such a charming childhood fantasy, when I first saw the movie in 1971 -- now left me feeling like a six-year-old at ten o'clock on Halloween night. But it wasn't just the candy, it was the movie itself: the insipid singing, the cheesy sets, the tired diatribe of rich and poor and good and evil. Even Willie Wonka, who had once seemed so charming in all his twinkling subversiveness, now made me queasy -- because anyone will make you queasy after you watch him eat a teacup for the sixth thousandth time. According to my sloppy calculations, that was approximately how many times my granddaughter Sarah had watched Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory in my house.
Oh sure, she'd been stuck on other movies before this. It had started out with Barney's Big Adventure, then progressed through Mary Poppins and The Little Mermaid, but those she only watched often, not constantly. Since the Christmas before last, when I so foolishly brought the plague of chocolate into our lives all wrapped up in red Santa paper, there had not been a day that she hadn't played the videotape.
If my mother could rise up from her grave to carp at me, she would say it was my own fault. "What business do Jews have giving Christmas presents in the first place?" she would say to me and shake her head in disgust.
And maybe she would be right. Maybe this was all a curse I brought down on myself. The video followed us like a debt, an insidious disease. There had not been a moment's respite, not even on the day that Sarah's mother, my daughter Sandy, had reached her absolute limit and yanked it out of the VCR and stepped on it again and again with the heel of her boot. Or that other day six months later when I completely snapped and pulled the tape from its casing, spooling out the celluloid like birthday ribbon. On both of those occasions we ended up racing to the video store with a wailing, hyperventilating child in our arms, as frantic as any family stumbling into the emergency room with a blue baby.
We discussed the possibility of seeing a family counselor or staging an intervention. We had been told by countless dispensers of free advice that Sarah would give up the tape as soon as we no longer responded to it, and so we trained ourselves not to respond, or to respond only behind a locked bathroom door with our faces pressed into a stack of towels.
I now repeated my mantra to myself: "It is just a noise like any other noise. It is just a noise like any other noise."
"Cover it with chocolate and collect up all the cream," Romeo sang with the Candyman, swaying me back and forth in a samba. Romeo, unlike his duet partner, had a nice voice. I told him to shut up.
"Have a sense of humor," he said. "It's a movie."
"It isn't a movie," I told him. "It's a dangerous, deadly device designed by children so that they can rule the world."
Romeo didn't live with me and therefore could not possibly understand. He thought that just because Sarah and her brother Tony sometimes spent the night at his house and she played the tape on his VCR, that meant he knew the score. But no one could understand it unless they had lived through it. Orwell and Kafka had nothing on an eight-year-old's obsession.
Cautiously, we peered past the entry hall. "Hello!" I called out. "Tony, Tony, Sarah, Sandy, we're home!" But the only living thing to amble into the room was Sarah's cat, a fat-faced orange tabby who purred and knocked against my shins. "Oompah-Loompah," I asked, "where is everybody?"
"Everything he bakes, satisfying and delicious," the Candyman replied.
We walked into the living room to see the thin man with Brilliantined hair on TV fling a fistful of butterscotch discs down onto the heads of little children, who scrambled like wolverines to get their share. He dispensed his licorice whips and egg creams even though no one was here watching him. Even Oompah-Loompah recoiled from the sugared carnage and left the room.
"Hello?" Romeo called, although no one appeared to be home.
I picked up the remote from the coffee table, aimed it at all the greedy children on television, and gave the off button a decisive stab. The sound that replaced that singing was crystalline, a silence as sweet and clear as a glacial lake. Had there been a glass of champagne at hand, it would have been quiet enough to hear the bubbles burst.
"Oh," I said, taking Romeo in my arms. "Will you listen to that?"
"What?" he said.
"Exactly."
He kissed me. "Where are they?"
"Do we care?" I kissed him back.
He nodded. "We care passionately."
We had not come home for any sort of funny business. We had come home because there was an extra case of gift cards stored in the hall closet, and we were almost out of them at our flower shops. Romeo had offered to come along because he wanted to pick up a new battery pack for the Dust-Buster.
But when you live in a house full of beloved family members, there is no aphrodisiac as potent or immediate as privacy. Youth is all about finding an opportunity to be alone with the person you want to be alone with, and once you are, you get pregnant, and from that moment on you're never alone again.
Romeo and I were sixty-three. Between us we had two houses, two flower shops, eight children, and ten grandchildren. He made me feel sixteen again, but a big part of that was our never-ending quest to sneak off somewhere.
He pulled back, kissed my nose, looked over my shoulder. "Go check the kitchen."
Part of what makes being sixteen so sexy is the stolen moment, sneaking around. Look! Mom and Dad aren't home! How much time do you think we have? For us, Mom and Dad had been replaced by our own children.
There was a piece of paper on the kitchen sink, with big letters written in black Magic Marker.
Sneaker sale at Filene's. Be back soon.
xxoo, Sandy
I held it over my head like the last find in a scavenger hunt. "God bless Sandy."
Romeo looked at the paper and smiled. "She leaves you notes. That's sweet. My boys could move to Tokyo and they wouldn't leave me a note."
"When she was a little kid, she'd leave me a note if she went to the bathroom." I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my nose, still cold from the October wind, unabashedly into the side of his neck.
"But how do we know how soon soon will be?"
"We have plenty of time. Look," I said, holding up my wristwatch as if it were proof. "It's four-thirty now. Traffic will be at a standstill, and they couldn't have left more than ten minutes ago."
Romeo looked at the note again. "It doesn't say what time they left."
And here I smiled because finally, finally, that damn video was going to play to my advantage. "The Candyman song comes in the first fifteen minutes of the movie. If we piece the story together from the evidence on hand, I'd say Sarah turned the movie on at four-fifteen, and Sandy started to crack at the opening credits. She then told the kids she'd take them shopping. They must have left the house so fast they forgot to turn the television off."
Sarah never allowed herself to watch her favorite parts out of sequence, nor did she allow herself to skip past the parts that even she found excruciatingly boring, like Charlie's mother leaning in the miserable doorframe of the dismal alley where she boiled other people's filthy clothes for a few pennies and sang a song about how her son should keep dreaming.
Romeo put one hand on either side of my head. His eyes were brimming with love. "You're a genius."
"But what about Big Tony?" I glanced furtively at the ceiling above, as if he might be upstairs.
Big Tony, who was not an especially large man, was Romeo's son, as opposed to Little Tony, a very tall, gangly twelve-year-old, who was my grandson. Big Tony was married to my daughter Sandy, and all of them -- daughter, son-in-law, and the two children from Sandy's first marriage -- lived with me.
Tony and Sandy's marriage meant that Romeo and I were in-laws. I should point out that our love was not a crime against society or nature. There were are no laws in any state prohibiting the commingling of in-laws.
"Tony's in class. I know it because I dropped him off this afternoon," Romeo said.
Tony was studying for his degree in public health, but now that he had one year to go in the program, he was making eyes at medical school -- a financial impossibility of epic proportions seeing since he, like Sandy, was working for us in the flower shops.
Before the age of enlightenment, years ago, the families Cacciamani and Roseman had despised one another. Romeo and I were raised from birth to scowl and spit when the other one's name was spoken. This was because our parents, rival Somerville florists, had loathed one another past the point of all reason, and this was because his mother and my father had briefly, secretly been in love with each other (isn't that always the way?), though no one else was privy to this information at the time.
After Romeo and I grew into adults who hated each other, our children fell in love, and we took it upon ourselves to squash their nascent happiness like a bug beneath our heel. It took us more than fifteen years and a couple of divorces before we all came together again, and this time Tony married Sandy a...
Most helpful customer reviews
17 of 17 people found the following review helpful.
The Continuing Adventures of Julie and Romeo
By Nancy R. Katz
Julie and Romeo is a fast and light read which reunites the two families we first met in Jeanne Ray's debut book Julie and Romeo. Like all of Ms. Ray's suceeding book this one doesn't fail to deliver the reader a fun time with the two families who once arch rivals and enemies, now friends and lovers.
While Julie and Romeo maintain their own homes which are filled with their children, grandchildren and Romeo's mother, their love for one another is still as intenseas when they were in high school and met again years later.But then Romeo has a back injury cdarrying Julie up the stairs and is confined to Julie's upstairs bedroom. And As if that wasn't enough Julie's daughter is preganant and confined to bed rest and where does she choose to do this but in Julie's living room. And rounding out the family dynamics is Julie's grandaughter whose family also lives with and is not only obsessed with the movie from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory but the lottery as well.
What ensues is a wild and madcap comedy of large families getting along and not getting along. The ending is a pure delight and has you wondering if there will be a next book to find out what adventues and misadventures the clans have been up to. In the tradition of a zany Frank Capra movie, this is a perfect read for a lazy summer's day.
9 of 9 people found the following review helpful.
A perfect little story
By N. Gargano
I really enjoyed this sequel, I think it is Ms. Ray's best book since she first introduced us to the characters in Julie and Romeo. Of course it could just be that I was so glad to be visiting these families again.
I won't go into the details of the story, the Amazon description does that quite well, but if you liked Julie and Romeo, you won't want to miss this one. I started reading and found I coudn't tear myself away until the end...I think Ms. Ray's readers are the "lucky" ones.
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
Humorous look at love and luck
By Eileen
Julie Roseman's life is complicated enough with her daughter Sandy, her son-in-law, and her two grandkids living with her. But when her true love Romeo Cacciamani damages his back in an ill-advised attempt to carry her up the stairs, he winds up confined to her bed for an indefinite period since he cannot be moved. Then Julie's older daughter Nora arrives on the scene with her own medical problem and moves in, and the house becomes very crowded. Throw in granddaughter Sarah's obsession with Willie Wonka and with lottery tickets, add regular visits from Romeo's sizable Cacciamani clan, and total chaos ensues. With all this confusion, there's not much time left for minding the family florist business. Although the situation seems difficult, Julie finds that good luck comes in family-sized packages.
This is the typical feel-good Jeanne Ray story, where the bustle and domestic squabbles of a close-knit household test the strength of the most patient of mothers, and where the family is brought closer together through love and a mild, and almost humorous, crisis. Ray's stories almost have the feel of fairy tales, since they tend to have happily-ever-after endings. In this one, Lady Luck is a veritable fairy godmother. I didn't enjoy this book as much as its predecessor, "Julie and Romeo," perhaps because as a sequel it didn't have the novelty of the original. But it was still a quick and fun read - the kind that had me smiling as I closed the cover. It's a great beach book.
Eileen Rieback
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