Home for the Holidays (4 page)

Across the table, Nicky cringed. His uncle Frankie saw him. As the dishes were being cleared away and Nicky's father was moving the guests to the den, Uncle Frankie took Nicky's arm and said, “Take it easy, kid. Your old man's just doing what he needs to do.”

“I know,” Nicky said. “I've just never seen him act like that before. He doesn't bow down to
anybody.”

“I know,” Frankie said. “But this is business.”

When all the guests had said their thank-yous and gone home, and the two people helping in the kitchen had been paid and sent away, Nicky's mother and father started turning off lights downstairs.

“What are you doing?” Grandma Tutti said. “Where's everybody going?”

“Well, to bed,” Nicky's father said. “We don't stay up all night like you city people. It's almost eleven o'clock!”

“But what about mass?” Grandma Tutti asked.

“What about mass
what
?” Nicky's father asked back.

“Father David is coming to pick us up.”

“Are you kidding?” Nicky's father asked. “At this hour?”

“Of course at this hour,” Grandma Tutti said. “It's for midnight mass! Have you forgotten everything? Are you telling me that no one in your house goes to midnight mass on Christmas Eve?”

“Uh, yes,” Nicky's father answered. “I guess I am telling you that.”

“Okay, Mr. Big Shot from the suburbs,” Grandma Tutti said. “You're too old for me to boss around. And too old for me to teach. But Nicky isn't. Maybe you don't have the old traditions. I
do.
And someone has to observe them with me. I'm taking Nicky to midnight mass.”

Nicky's father found him getting into his pajamas.

“Hold it, Nicky,” he said. “Your grandmother is going to midnight mass. She says—no, she
insists
—that she's taking you with her. If you really don't want to go, I won't let her. But if you don't mind …”

“I get it,” Nicky said. “I don't mind. It might be kinda fun.”

“Uh, yeah,” his father said. “Sure.”

“Do I have to wear a sports coat?”

“Yes, and a tie. I'll help you.”

Thirty minutes later Nicky and his grandmother were cruising along the darkened Carrington streets, headed for St. Monica's. Nicky, bundled up tightly in an overcoat and scarf and wearing gloves, felt cozy and warm in the
backseat. When they arrived, he didn't want to get out and go into the cold cathedral.

But it was warm and cozy in there, too. The lights were low. A million candles had been lit. Organ music was coming from somewhere far away. Father David led Nicky and his grandmother to a pew near the front and said, “We'll sit here. I have to go say hello to a few people.”

Nicky settled into his seat next to Grandma Tutti. Then he fell asleep.

4

T
he next morning it was Christmas. More snow had fallen in the night. The backyard, from Nicky's bedroom window, was a perfect blanket of white. He raced downstairs to find the Christmas tree surrounded with presents, and Grandma Tutti drinking coffee in the kitchen. He gave her a giant hug.

“Merry Christmas!” he whispered, as he knew his parents were still sleeping.

“Merry Christmas!” she whispered back. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don't want to wake up Mom and Dad.”

“In this big house!” Tutti said. “You could beat on pots and pans and no one would hear. Help me finish my coffee cake, and then come open a present I bought you ….”

Nicky spent the morning opening presents—new shoes for lacrosse, a book of American short stories, a new set of charcoals for drawing and, from Clarence, a paisley necktie.

“For that Snow Ball thing of yours,” Clarence said. “So you look sharp.”

Nicky's parents were now standing near the tree smiling as he opened his last present from them. It looked like a CD. Nicky was, honestly, not too excited about that one. His parents had good taste in music and all. It just wasn't
his
taste. As he picked it up and pulled at the paper, his mother said, “Now, your father and I weren't sure you'd really
like
this present, but we hope it's okay.”

When Nicky saw the logo—a huge dark sun—he said,
“BlackPlanet Two?”
Then he shouted. “No way!”

“Oh yes wa-ay,” his mother said, laughing.

“After what happened this summer,” his father said, “we weren't sure you'd still be interested in this.”

“Are you kidding?” Nicky said. “It's the best!” He leapt to his feet and gave each of his parents a hug.

It was almost as good watching everyone else open the presents Nicky had bought for them. Uncle Frankie loved the overcoat Nicky and his mother had picked out for him. Grandma Tutti loved the cashmere scarf and said she would wear it to church every day.

Uncle Frankie laughed when he saw the tracksuit Nicky had bought for his father. “He's gonna turn you back into a goomba,” Frankie said. “Which you might need, if you're gonna stay in business with guys like Van Allen.”

“Why?” Nicky's father asked. He looked hurt. “What's wrong with him?”

“Nothin',” Frankie said. “I just got a funny feeling from him. Does he know I'm a cop?”

“He knows you're an undercover detective,” Nicky's dad said. “I told him. He was impressed.”

“That's okay, then,” Frankie said. “It just makes some guys nervous.”

Nicky's mother modeled the new robe and said it was beautiful. And Clarence was delighted by the driving gloves. “You must've seen me looking at these, Nicholas,” he said. “That's a very considerate present.”

But the biggest present of all came in the late afternoon. Nicky was reading by the fire when the phone rang. A minute later, his mother came into the room and said, “That was your friend Tommy. He's down at the train station. Clarence is pulling the car around. Would you like to go with him?”

“Yes!” Nicky said.

Tommy was waiting on the platform, standing with his hands in his pockets and a battered book bag slung over his shoulder. He looked small and cold and lost. Nicky ran up to him, shouting, “Tommy!” and skidded to a stop. Tommy smiled, and stuck his hand out.

“Hey, pal.”

“Hey.”

“So, I made it.”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty cold, huh?”

“Very.”

“So, you live around here?”

“About five miles away. Where's your stuff?”

“This is my stuff,” Tommy said, and showed Nicky his book bag.

“Uh, great,” Nicky said. “Let's go.”

Tommy stared out the window as Clarence drove them home. He seemed amazed by everything he saw.

He pointed at a huge wooden mansion poised atop a rolling hill. “What's that?”

“That's the country club.”

He pointed at a set of stately stone buildings surrounded by graceful trees hung with snow. “That another country club?”

“That's Carrington Prep—my school,” Nicky said.

“It looks like Buckingham Palace or something.”

“It's just a school,” Nicky said. “But up here to the left is the skate park. And over there—well, down that road a little way—is the mall where they have indoor laser tag. And the movie theater. We'll go there.”

“Sounds good.”

“And this is my street.”

Clarence had left the main road and was driving down a tree-lined street fronted by broad, sloping lawns, white with snow and watched over by stands of pine, maple and oak trees.

Clarence pulled into the Borellis' driveway and stopped the Navigator in front of the garage. He got out and went around to open the door to the house.

Sitting in the car, Tommy said, “You gotta be kidding.”

Nicky said, “What?”

“This is your
house!”

“Why not?”

“It looks like a—I don't know—castle or something. You really live here? I mean, just
you
?”

“Well, there're some rooms over the garage where Clarence hangs out during the day.”

“So he lives here, too?”

“No,” Nicky said. “He has his own apartment. That's just for him to hang out during the week if he's not driving.”

“So the house is basically just for you and your folks?”

Nicky laughed. “Come in and see.”

Tommy stared at everything and was almost completely silent. He barely said hello to Nicky's parents. He smiled at Nicky's grandmother but grimaced when she gave him a hug.

“You look starving,” she said when she turned him loose. “And you feel like a bag of bones. Let me make you some macaroni.”

“That's okay,” Tommy said. “I'm not really hungry.”

“Come upstairs,” Nicky said. “I'll show you your room.”

Going across the house, Tommy said, “This is nuts.”

“What?”

“Look at this place!” he said. “I mean, not for nothing,
but what's all this for? You could set up a bowling alley in here. Check this out.”

Tommy paced off the living room, walking the length of it and then the width. “You could put my whole house in this room and still have room left over. Unbelievable.”

Upstairs, Nicky said, “This is your room. Here's your bathroom. There's towels and stuff.”

Tommy looked out the window and said, “Who lives next door? Donald Trump?”

“No. That's my friend Amy's house. You'll like her.”

“Yeah? She's pretty?”

Nicky had never thought of Amy that way, but he said, “Actually, yes. But she's just my friend—like, since I was a little kid.”

“Uh-huh. And where do you sleep?”

“My room's just down the hall. Here.”

Tommy looked in and whistled. “You got that
Black-Planet
poster.”

“I got the new
BlackPlanet Two
, too,” Nicky said.

“You're kidding—the one we coulda ripped off this summer?”

“Yes, but this time it's legal. It was a Christmas present from my parents. What did you get from yours?”

“Nothing,” Tommy said. “Nothing yet, anyway. My mom said my presents would be waiting for me when I got back. Between you and me, I think she's going shopping at those after-Christmas sales.”

“Oh,” Nicky said. “So maybe that means more stuff, since it'll be cheaper, right?”

“Something like that,” Tommy said.

“Well, I got you something for
now,”
Nicky said. “Come on.”

Nicky led Tommy back downstairs, to the Christmas tree, where only two packages remained. Nicky handed Tommy the first one and said, “Open this. It's from me.”

Tommy tore the paper off, then pulled the box apart. “A skateboard? Whoa!” he said. “But … I don't know how to ride a skateboard.”

“I'm going to teach you to skate like Tony Hawk,” Nicky said. “When I'm done, you'll be the skateboard king of Brooklyn. Now open the other present.”

Tommy quickly unwrapped the smaller package.

“No way,” he said.

“Way,” Nicky said.

“Unbelievable,” Tommy said. “Is this one legal, too?”

“Of course,” Nicky said. “Now we can play
BlackPla.net
Two
online after you go home.”

Tommy hung his head. “It's too much,” he said. “And you know what I got for you? Nothing.”

“Fugheddaboudit,”
Nicky said, and laughed. “You came to visit me! That's the best Christmas present of all.”

Frankie and Nicky's father had a drink while the two boys were getting reacquainted. Nick poured two glasses of whiskey and sat with Frankie in the library.

“To your health,” he said.

“Salute
, as we say in the old country,” Frankie said. “So, tell me about this Van Allen guy.”

“Cheers,” Nicky's father said. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, how come he's such a big deal?” Frankie asked. “Is he one of those guys who arrived on the
Mayflower
with the silver spoons in their mouths?”

“I don't think so. I think he's just rich.”

“That's it?” Frankie said. “That's all it takes to get elected King of Carrington?”

“You have to be rich, and you have to be smart—and he's both. He moved here when the real estate market was just starting to get hot, and he made some smart investments, and he made a fortune. He got interested in some local charities, and he made some big friends by making some very big donations. Next thing you know, he's on the board of this and the board of that.”

“And how'd you meet him?” Frankie asked.

“You couldn't miss him,” Nicky's father said. “He was everywhere—every fund-raiser, every charity event, every party. He's very ambitious.”

“You two should get along, then,” Frankie said. “Elizabeth told me about your plans for Fairport—Mr. Mayor.”

Nicky's father blushed. “Cut it out, Frank. I got involved with Fairport because it's the right thing to do. Nice apartments for poor people and artists. Plus it looks good for my law firm. All that other talk, about me
running for office, that's just a lot of talk. If it happens, however, that the people of Fairport want me to represent them …”

Frankie clapped Nicky's father on the back. “Congressman Borelli! Senator Borelli! A Borelli in the White House! Good for you, Nick. The old man would be proud.”

“Don't jinx it,” Nicky's father said. “The paperwork is being done now. First business day of the new year, it's ours.”

“What a great way to celebrate the new year,” Frankie said.