Speak Low (18 page)

“Thank you.” I rushed forward and threw my arms around her so forcefully, she staggered backward. “I’ll need all the help I can get.”

She laughed and squeezed me back. “Want to wear my wedding dress?”

“Oh, Bridget, really?” I held her at arm’s length as my excitement soared. Bridget’s wedding dress was beautiful.

“Of course. It’ll have to be hemmed of course, but I think it will fit you.” Her lips tipped up. “We got married fast so no one would notice an expanding waistline.”

I groaned. “Hopefully I won’t have that problem.”

“Hopefully?” Her face went white. “Does that mean—Frances Kathleen O’Mara, have you gone crazy?”

“Never mind about that.” I breezed toward the door. “Let’s pull your dress from the trunk so I can try it on.”

#

Twenty minutes later I stood before the cheval mirror in Bridget’s bedroom wearing her wedding dress. She brought a hand to her mouth, fighting tears. “It’s beautiful on you, Tiny. It really is.”

I caught her eye in the mirror and smiled. “Thank you. I loved it on you, and I’m so grateful you’re letting me wear it. You’re sure it’s OK to alter it a bit?” The fit wasn’t terrible, since Bridget was small-framed too, but the length would need to be taken up and the side seam taken in. It was a simple gown, made by a friend of our mother’s. Cream-colored lace, three quarter sleeves, rounded neckline. A wide peach-colored satin sash emphasized my small waist and almost made it look like I had a few curves, and the lovely skirt fell in three fluttery lace panels to the floor. On me the final tier puddled a bit, but Bridget knelt at my side and examined the seam where the bottom panel was attached.

“This won’t be too hard to fix, Tiny. If I can’t do it, I’m sure Mrs. Hobbs would do the work for a reasonable price. She’ll like knowing it’s being worn again.” She looked up at me. “Want to try on the veil?”

I clapped my hands together. “Yes!”

Bridget got to her feet and dug in the trunk we’d lugged from the back of the cedar closet. The veil was boxed and wrapped in tissue paper, and I gasped when she pulled it out. From a thick crown of beads and lace hung a floor-length swath of lace-trimmed tulle. Bridget stepped behind me and settled the crown on my forehead; it rose to a peak in the center. The tulle fell over my ears and shoulders, flowing down my back to the floor. I wouldn’t be able to trim it, but that was all right. When I walked it would drift behind me like gossamer, just like it had on Bridget.

I turned to her with tears in my eyes. “I’ll take good care of it all.”

Fussing with the veil, she blinked back her own tears. “I hope you and Joey are as happy as Vince and I were the day we married.” She met my eyes. “And I beg you to convince Joey to choose a different path than his father.”

I put a hand on her arm. “I’m trying. I am.”

“Good.” She went behind me to begin undoing the column of looped buttons running up my back. “And I hope he’s more patient than Vince was trying to remove this dress—he tore off three button loops trying to get it off me!”

I grinned at my reflection in the mirror. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Chapter Sixteen

Joey called that afternoon around four. “Hello,” I said, my insides warming at the sound of his voice.

“How’s my girl?”

“Good. Busy.”

“Oh?”

“Monday is laundry day,” I explained. “The girls are helping me get it all done.”

“Good. Make sure they know how to do it because pretty soon you won’t be there to show them.”

“You sound awfully confident about that, Mr. Lupo.”

“That’s because I know something you don’t, Mrs. Lupo.”

My belly turned completely inside out and the floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. “I’m not Mrs. Lupo yet, you know,” I said with the widest grin imaginable. “You shouldn’t count your chickens and all that.”

He laughed. “These particular chickens, I’m gonna count.”

“Tell me what you know that I don’t.”

“Uh uh, that’s no fun at all. You’ll just have to wait.”

“Joey!” I stamped my foot on the hallway rug. “Tell me, please!”

“And what will I get in exchange for this information?”

I blushed, peeking out the kitchen window to make sure the girls were still outside hanging things on the line. “I’ll do that thing,” I whispered into the phone.

“What thing?” He whispered too, although he was probably alone.

“You know...” I wobbled one leg. “The thing I did in the restaurant pantry.”

“Oh,
that
thing! In that case, I’ll tell you—I went down to the garage and spoke to your father.”

I stopped fidgeting. “What? You did?”

“Yes. I know you’re not the old-fashioned type, but I know my pop would’ve wanted me to ask your dad for his blessing.”

“And did he give it?”

Joey paused, and I closed my eyes, imagining the difficulties we’d face if my father put up impediments to the marriage. I wouldn’t care—I was going to marry Joey whether Daddy said it was OK or not.

“He gave it.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” I breathed. “One less thing to worry about.”

“He was surprised but not entirely shocked. And he grumbled about you leaving home a little, but in the end he shook my hand and wished me luck putting up with your sharp tongue and foul temper.”

“He did not say that!”

Joey laughed again. He’d probably never stop teasing me, but I could live with it—in fact, I’d learned I couldn’t live without it. “So should I come over now?” he asked.

“Now?”

“Yeah. You know. So you can do that thing.”

I clucked my tongue. “Good-bye, Joey Lupo. I’m going now and I don’t care if you ever call back.”

He was still laughing when I hung up.

#

Within the hour, the doorbell rang.
Joey, you fiend.
I was upstairs putting some clean clothing away and raced down the stairs to answer it, smoothing my hair and my blouse. Just before reaching the door, I slowed down as if I’d walked leisurely and put my fingers on the handle.
Relax. He doesn’t need to know you’re out of your mind with need for him.

I pulled it open and blinked in surprise—it wasn’t Joey. It was a delivery man from a Gianni’s Flowers, and he was carrying a long white box. Over his shoulder I spotted his truck, painted dark green with white letting on the side.

My heart tripped with excitement. My first flowers from Joey!

“Miss O’Mara?” the man asked. When I nodded, he held the box forth. “These are for you.”

“Thank you.” The box was thick and heavy, and I didn’t bother trying to hide my grin. “Have a good day.”

He tipped his cap at me. “You too, miss.”

He jogged back to his truck, and I shut the door, squealing inwardly. Rushing into the living room, I set the box on the coffee table. When I pulled off the lid, I gasped.

Joey had send me a dozen gorgeous red roses. My hands rose to my heart and then reached to finger the thick, velvety crimson petals, the emerald stems dotted with thorns, even the crinkly white paper. They were the most beautiful flowers I’d ever seen—so pretty they didn’t even look real!

Peering closer, I noticed an envelope nestled among the blooms. When I reached for it, I saw that something else was in there too. Lying at the bottom of the box was a smaller parcel wrapped in white paper. I gasped again—had Joey gotten me a wedding gift already? The box looked too big to be a ring, but with Joey, you never knew…he might be teasing me somehow. Maybe he’d placed the ring in a bigger box just to fool me. But wouldn’t he want to offer something like that to me himself?

Immediately I glanced out the front window. Was he lurking in the bushes, ready to pop out and surprise me?

Grinning like mad, I pulled the envelope from the box and tore it open. Inside was a plain white card, upon which words were written in spidery black script. As I read, the smile faded from my face, my lips going slack.

The flowers weren’t from Joey.

Dear Miss O’Mara,

I’m delighted to find that you are excellent at keeping a secret.

I hope you have had time to consider my offer, as I am anxiously awaiting your acceptance, and I hope the flowers will help persuade you to give it sooner rather than later. I am also returning something that belongs to you, as you mistakenly left it in my motorcar the other night. Wear it tonight when you visit me at the Statler, just the way you wore it in your bedroom. Telephone the number below to reach me so we can arrange a time…although I believe you still have the key.

Until then,

E.D.

Enzo DiFiore. I didn’t even have to open the smaller box inside the flowers—I knew it contained the diamond choker. The one he’d bought for Gina as an engagement gift. The one Raymond had stolen from his brother’s room and sent to me as a misguided attempt at affection. The one I’d worn in my bedroom, naked everywhere else, when Enzo had snuck in and surprised me. My face burned.

You can’t think that way. What’s past is past, and the escapades with Enzo are part of your history. It was just a bit of fun, just a girl reacting to being responsible her whole life, and finally getting a taste of freedom.

A taste? OK, more like a meal.

A really attractive five-course meal, served searing hot.

But I wasn’t the type to wallow about my mistakes, even if Enzo was the biggest one I’d ever made. No sense in it. What made sense was that I needed to tell him right away that I wouldn’t be accepting his offer, that what was between us was done, and he should focus on Gina or switch his attentions to some other girl he could control easier than me. But not tonight. Not when we were alone in that apartment with darkness pressing at the windows. I was in love in Joey and trusted myself not to give in to Enzo, but I didn’t trust that Enzo would be a gentleman. I’d barely managed to put him off last time we were there together, and he was not a man who liked being told no.

I needed to phone him right away. But I felt that I’d have more success in person than on the telephone convincing him not to be angry, and I had to return the key and choker. A daytime meeting would be best, or one in a crowded location. Would he agree to see me on my terms?

Chewing my lip, I went to the telephone and dialed the number. I wondered if it was the number to the apartment at the Statler and got my answer when the hotel switchboard operator came on the line.

“Mr. Enzo DiFiore, please,” I requested.

“One moment, thank you.”

While she made the connection, I wondered briefly what a switchboard operator made. If I didn’t return to school right away, I’d have to get some sort of job. I didn’t much relish the thought of sitting in a small room plugging wires all day long, but maybe as something temporary, it would do.

“Hello, darling.” Enzo’s deep, smooth voice sent a chill down my arms. This wouldn’t be easy.

“Hello. Thank you for the flowers.”

“You got them.”

“Yes, they’re beautiful.”

“They’d better be. And the necklace was inside?”

I glanced nervously at the box on the coffee table. “Yes. It’s there.”

“Good. Otherwise I’d have to have a word with the florist.”

I laughed uneasily.

“Will you come tonight?”

“Actually, I can’t tonight. I have to…stay with my sisters.”

Enzo clucked his tongue. “You see, darling, this is why you need to accept my offer. No girl as tempting as you should be alone in her bed at night.”

“I—I can’t tonight. I’ll be with my family.”

He sighed. “Tomorrow, then?”

“All right. Tomorrow.”

“I’ll be at the club.”

“I’ll come there.” The club—perfect.

“Wear the necklace, Tiny. And plan on staying.”

The connection went dead.

#

That night we ate together as a family for the first time since the day Bridget and the girls returned from vacation. She came over a bit early to give me a hand in the kitchen, while Molly and Mary Grace took the boys outside to play in the yard.

Actually, Bridget did most of the work in the kitchen. I sat at the table doodling my name and Joey’s on a piece of scrap paper when I was supposed to be writing down Bridget’s method for frying pork chops.

Tiny Lupo.

Frances Kathleen Lupo.

Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Lupo.

Huh, what was his middle name?

“Are you writing this down?” she barked at me for the tenth time when she caught me staring into space.

“What? Oh, yes. Egg. Bread crumbs.” I scribbled it down.
Bread crumbs…
Of course, my mind wandered to the pantry and nothing Bridget said got through after that. Eventually, she gave up.

“You’re not listening to a word I say,” she complained over the hiss of frying meat.

“I’m sorry, I’m too distracted. And besides, I think Joey will be doing the cooking for us.”

“I hope so, otherwise you’re going to starve.” She shook her head. “Just set the table, will you?”

Happy to oblige, I set eight places around the table and even hummed a tune while I worked. Bridget laughed.

“My, my. Such a difference in you, Tiny O’Mara! Just look what love does!”

I stuck my tongue out at her, but even my tongue reminded me of Joey and I got lost in dreamy thoughts again. Would he come over tonight? I’d gone almost twenty-one years without seeing him every night, but now the prospect of a single night without him seemed unthinkable.

When Daddy came in I held my breath, wondering what he’d say to me. But he said nothing unusual, just poured his customary evening whisky and poked his head out the back door to wave at the boys. Bridget and I exchanged a glance. I’d told her what Joey told me, and she was thrilled that Daddy wasn’t giving me trouble like he’d given her. But he wasn’t exactly jumping for joy either. I couldn’t help being a little disappointed—it wasn’t that Daddy was the type of father to be effusive with praise or affection. But when he felt strongly about something, he got worked up, and it seemed to me this was something he should feel strongly about, one way or another. I’d almost rather have an argument than silence.

Bridget called everybody inside and they took turns washing up at the sink. We sat down and Daddy started to say grace. With my eyes closed and head lowered, my mind began to drift again, but it snapped to attention when Daddy said, “And now, Lord, a word about my Frances Kathleen.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Bridget peeking at me from the corner of hers.

“She’s borne the load around here for a while since her dear mother departed, and today I gave my blessing for her marriage, even though it will be a struggle without her. Please be with her and Joseph in their marriage and help us get along without her here. And, Lord, let her know that I’m proud of her and if her mother were here, she’d want nothing more for Tiny than the good man she’s chosen. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone echoed. Everyone but me—I couldn’t speak quite yet.

“Tiny,” breathed Molly, staring at me from across the table. “Are you and Joey getting married?”

I looked at Daddy but he was already reaching for a pork chop. Evidently that was all the fanfare my news was going to get, but it was enough for me. I’d take quiet approval and a reluctant admission of pride over his blustering any day. Flashing Molly a smile, I nodded.

“But—but…” she stammered. “It’s so soon.”

“Sometimes, Molly,” I said, reaching for the potatoes, “you don’t realize a thing is staring you in the face until you’re hit over the head with it.”

“Joey hit you?” Mary Grace asked, her eyes wide. “That doesn’t seem like him.”

The three older sisters at the table burst out laughing. “Not really, poppet. It’s just a way to say Joey had been there all along but I didn’t realize how we felt about each other until now.”

“Oh.” She gave me a smug face. “Well,
I
could have told you how you felt about each other. It was positively obvious to
me
all along.”

I grinned and reached for a pork chop. It was the nicest supper we’d had as a family in a long time. We talked a little about the wedding, although I didn’t have any details the girls cared about yet but for the dress I’d wear. Daddy said business was going well at his new location, and I tried to read his face, wondering if the gambling arrangement was working out, but he kept his eyes on his plate. When he was finished, he retired to the front room with his whisky to read the paper, and I left him alone. If he was satisfied with his life working for a man like Angel DiFiore, so be it. I wanted nothing to do with it. My only hope was that he’d bring home enough money to take care of the girls, and when they were ready, pay for their schooling. I might have to enlist Bridget’s help to convince him to do it, but I’d worry about that later.

Molly and I did the dishes after supper, and I was still drying when there was a knock on the front door. Mary Grace pulled it open, and a moment later I heard Joey’s voice.

“Hi.” I rushed into the front hall. He looked even more handsome than I remembered, if that were possible, even though he only wore work clothes and the old floppy cap.

“Hi.” He removed the cap and came forward to kiss my cheek. Mary Grace elbowed Molly and the two of them stood there beaming like idiots.