“I got accepted,” she says. “UCLA medical school.”

“Sweetie,” Frank says. “That’s fantastic. I’m so proud…happy…”

“Me, too,” she says, and he remembers that at her better moments she is totally without guile.

“Wow,” he says. “My little girl is going to be a doctor.”

“Oncology,” she says.

Of course, he thinks. Jill never does anything by half. When she jumps in, it’s always at the deep end of the pool. So Jill isn’t just going to be a doctor; she’s going to cure cancer. Well, good for her, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she does.

UCLA Medical School.

“I don’t start until fall,” she’s saying, “so I thought I’d work a couple of jobs this summer, then get a part-time job during the school year. I think I can swing it.”

He shakes his head.

“Work the summer,” he said. “But you can’t go to med school and work at the same time, sweetie.”

“Daddy, I-”

He holds his hand up, palm out. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You work so hard, and-”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Are yousure?”

This time, she gets just the hand, no words.

But those are going to be some heavy bills, Frank thinks. That’s a lot of bait, linens, and fish. And rental properties-Frank spends his afternoons looking after his property-management business.

I’m going to have to kick it all up a notch, he thinks. That’s okay. I can kick it up a notch. I handed you a lot of shit in your life; I can find a way to give you this. And to have a daughter named Dr. Machianno. What would my old man have thought of this?

“This is such a happy thing,” he says. He stands up, leans over, and kisses her on the top of her head. “Congratulations.”

She squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Daddy.”

The food arrives and Frank eats his sandwich with fake enthusiasm. But, he thinks, I wish they would let me go back in the kitchen and show them how to fix eggplant.