That's (Not Exactly) Amore (22 page)

“What about Joe?”

“Joe’s a good guy. What he does in private is none of my business.”

And once again, I think she just answered the question.

My heart sinks. Joe, the godfather. The very thought makes my stomach hurt.

20

M
om’s wedding day is, predictably, rainy, gray, and cold. So cold that if the temperature drops any more, the roads will be a real mess with sleet. I’ve always hated the weather fluctuations in March and April.

I’m frazzled enough as it is, trying to juggle packing, getting to my hair appointment, and making it to the church by noon. Noon! Who gets married before two o’clock?

The hair appointment turns out to be futile. Even arranged (painfully, I might add) in a French knot, there is no taming my hair by the time I load into the train, get a cab to the church, leave the cab, and walk inside. Humidity and the few sprinkles that got past the umbrella have caused springy curls to sprout all over my head. At least I didn’t wear my dress to the church. I lug my suitcase, filled with enough clothes for a week, into the building. I’m leaning against the wall to catch my breath when Pastor Moore’s wife walks down the hall and greets me with a shy smile.

“Your mom is in my office getting dressed. She asked me to show you the way.”

Relief floods through me. Just for someone else to wheel my bag while I hold my dress and shoes is huge. My cosmetics bag is slung over my shoulder and feels like a hundred-pound weight.

Mom is standing before an oval full-length mirror when I walk into the office. She is patting her hair. I’m not sure what patting does for short bobbed hair, but if it makes her feel better . . .

And she looks lovely. A cream-colored, tea-length dress of silk and lace hugs her newly-slimmed-down figure. I have the uneasy feeling that my mother looks better than I do.

Okay, Laini.
This is her day, she deserves to be the most beautiful woman in the room when she says “I do.”

And she absolutely is. The ceremony is short and sweet with Aaron’s brother, Ben, standing up next to the groom as best man. He seems to have genuine affection for my mother as he takes her hands and welcomes her to the family with a kiss on the cheek.

He pulls me aside just before we leave the church. “Be careful.”

“What do you mean?” Instinctively I know it has something to do with Chad.

“Chad found out about the wedding. The good news is that he and his wife are out of town visiting her folks and just found out this morning. An hour ago, as a matter of fact. My daughter told him.” He scowls.

Okay, focus, mister. “Why should I be careful, Mr. Bland?”

“You’ll be alone in that house all week, and I wouldn’t put it past him to come by and try to find out where your mom and Aaron are going on their honeymoon.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me, would he?”

“Who knows? I never thought he’d act this asinine over the whole thing. But you just never can tell about people.” He gives me a steady, uncle-ish look. “You be sure that you tell that police officer boyfriend of yours so he can keep an eye on things.”

Good grief, what has Mother been telling people?

“Mark’s not my boyfriend. Besides, he’s a Manhattan cop. This isn’t exactly his jurisdiction.”

A smile tips his lips, making Ben’s face even more pleasant. “Trust me, darling. Anywhere you are is bound to be his jurisdiction.” He winks. “Just ask him.”

I think the old guy completely missed the part where I said Mark isn’t my boyfriend. But it’s kind of nice that he’s concerned.

I hug my mother and Aaron and watch as they head off for the airport. I hail a cab of my own and go back to Mom’s. The place seems strange and empty without many of my mom’s things. She hasn’t removed everything. But most of the furniture is gone, slowly moved out during the past few days. Her clothes are gone. That’s the saddest feeling of all. Home doesn’t feel like home without my mom’s presence.

During the afternoon I pack some boxes, immersed in my memories. I order take-out Chinese after dark and eat alone. I wonder if this is what I have to look forward to forever. Mark, maybe? If not, is there anyone for me? You’d think in a city the size of New York, I could find
someone
to spend my life with.

I go out on the deck to listen to the sounds of crickets and the city. The rain has stopped, but it’s still damp. Dancy calls just after ten o’clock and we catch up on the week. Including my mom’s wedding.

“I swear, Dancy. How on earth did she get so lucky twice in one lifetime?”

“Who knows?”

“How are your folks doing?” Mr. and Mrs. Ames have been separated more than they’ve been together during the last fifteen years, but recently they made a new commitment to each other. They even stood up and renewed their vows.

“They seem to be doing pretty well. Of course I never see them, and rarely talk to Mother. But reading between the lines, I’d say they’re having a great time retired in Florida. Hopefully Dad won’t ruin it.”

I chuckle and sip my tea. “Give him the benefit of the doubt, Dan.”

“This
is
me giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said hopefully, didn’t I?” I can hear the laughter in her voice so I don’t take her too seriously. “So how are your guys? And what are you doing alone on a Saturday night?”

“Ha. First of all, they’re not my guys. Mark is working Saturday nights for a while. And Joe doesn’t really see me that way. At least not all the time.”

“What do you mean, not all the time?”

“Sometimes he seems like he really likes me and would like to date me. Other times it’s just different. Like I’m a good friend. Besides . . .” And I tell her about Nancy’s comments.

“Wow, well, she would know if they were mob, wouldn’t she?” Dancy asks. “Didn’t you tell me they were childhood friends?”

“Yep. She seemed freaked out when I brought it up.”

“Well, maybe you’d better not bring it up again.”

“You’ve got that right.” I pause and so does she. Finally I break the silence. “But I sure would like to know. I mean, he doesn’t seem like the type to bash in any heads. And he’s never tried to swindle me out of my money.”

Laughter explodes across the phone line. “Who still says swindle?”

“Whatever. Mock me if you will. But I have a real situation on my hands. I don’t want mobsters giving Nick’s place a bad name. Know what I mean?”

Dancy’s closer to Nick than any of us after helping out behind the counter and spending so much time in the coffee shop editing and writing during the fall and up until Christmastime.

“Nick knows what he’s doing, Laini. If he thought there was anything fishy going on, he wouldn’t have turned the place over to Joe. The coffee shop was his life, second only to Nelda and their daughter and grandkids.”

“I guess you’re right.” I take a deep breath. Time to change the subject. “So where are we on proposal watch?”

“Still watching. I think he’s doing it on purpose.”

“Well, you’ve only been dating officially for three months.”

“True.”

We’ve effectively exhausted our conversation in fifteen minutes flat. After a few attempts to find something to discuss, we both agree that we need to hang up. So that’s what we do. I have a sinking feeling that I’m losing touch with my friends.

Is that the way it has to be when you go off in different directions?

I survive a melancholy Sunday and actually look forward to Monday night’s class, but at ten o’clock Monday morning, I receive a blanket e-mail from my professor. He’s sick. No class tonight. Shoot.

I’m going to be alone with no plans on St. Patrick’s Day. We’ve always enjoyed St. Paddy’s Day in my Irish family. I don’t even like the taste of corned beef and cabbage all that much, but it’s tradition and tradition means a lot to me, even if my mom had to go and be on her honeymoon during the holiday. But I’m not cooking it just for myself. I make myself let it go.

By six I’m bored to distraction, so I call a cab, grab my jacket and purse, and give the cabbie instructions to take me to the Nautical Mile. I’ll eat in Mark’s dad’s restaurant. As I walk down the sidewalk, I wonder if Liz is back to work yet. Surely not. It’s only been a couple of weeks.

But I’m wrong. I step inside and there she is, sitting alone, her baby in an infant seat on top of the table. Liz is wearing an apron and rolling silverware. She grins and waves me over. “You alone?”

I nod. “I’m housesitting for my mom.” I nod toward the baby. “Can I have a peek?”

“You sure can.”

My heart nearly melts at the sight of the tiny creature. She sticks her fist into her mouth and sucks. Liz laughs. “That’s not going to hold her for long.”

“What are you doing back at work so soon?”

She shrugs. “I’m not, really. Just came in to eat and got roped into rolling silverware since I’m just sitting here.”

“Where’s Rick?”

“Home. Watching basketball. I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to get out of the house. I’m so stir-crazy it’s not even funny.” She looks around. “I wonder where Kellie is. She should be coming to get your drink order.”

I know exactly where she is. I saw her beeline it for the back as soon as I walked in. But I don’t say that.

Liz catches the hostess’s eye and waves her over. “Get Kellie, will you? What do you want to drink?”

“Tea is fine.”

“Iced or hot?” the hostess asks without bothering to look at me.

“Iced.” She huffs off to get it.

“Did I do something to her?”

“Oh, don’t worry about Gina. She and Kellie are like that.” She crosses her fingers. “I’m sure Mark told you about Kellie.”

I nod. So I was right about Kellie still being in love with Mark.

She sighs. “We all really thought he’d marry her.” I feel a little uncomfortable sitting here listening to her talk about the sister-in-law that might have been. “You know Kellie named Kyle after Mark.”

“I didn’t. How did she get Kyle from Mark?”

“Mark’s first name. Kyle Mark Hall.”

“Mark was thrilled that she named her son after him, even though he wasn’t Kyle’s father. He moved in with Kellie when Kyle was born and pretty much raised him as a son. But they never let Kyle call him Daddy.” She looks at me with a rueful smile. “Good thing, I guess, huh?”

“Sounds like it.” Poor kid. I’m feeling a little dizzy from all the information. Why didn’t Mark ever tell me about living with Kellie? Something about the situation pushes all my moral buttons. I’m not a prude and I’m not one to judge, but can I really date a guy who pretty much lived as husband and wife with someone and now acts like it never happened?

This is just too awkward. I hop up without giving my next course of action any thought. All I know is that I have to escape. “You know what? I just remembered something I have to do. I can’t stay and eat.”

“Are you sure?” She frowns. “It’s on the house. We’d love for you to stay. Pop hasn’t even come out to say hi yet.”

“I know, but I really can’t stay. Your baby is just beautiful, Liz.” I toss money down for the tea and make a quick trip to the door. I know I’m taking the coward’s way out. But golly. That was just weird.

I walk along the sidewalk in bewildered silence, reflecting on my life of late. I lived in a barren wasteland where men were concerned. Then I had one interested for sure (Mark) and one maybe interested (Joe). Now it’s looking like one has way too much baggage (Mark), and the other is probably involved in the mafia (Joe).

I’m thinking about going back to the desert.

21

T
he doorbell wakes me up from a sound sleep. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Good grief. Who rings a person’s doorbell at three thirty in the morning? I yank my robe around myself and tie the belt as the doorbell rings again. “I’m coming, already,” I mutter. “Hold your dumb horses.”

I know better than to answer the door without looking out the peephole first, but for some reason (sleepy fog, most likely), I fling it open without checking.

Chad is standing there. “For creep’s sake, Chad. What do you want?”

“Where are they?” he snarls. I’m glad I didn’t open the screen door. I check to make sure it’s locked. He staggers a few steps as he tries to stay on his feet.

“Good grief, you’re drunk as a skunk.”

“No kiddin’.”

“Get out of here before I call the cops, Chad.”

He sneers. “Go ahead. I’ll tell ’em how you and that . . . mmmother of yours snookered my dad.”

“Good night, Chad.” I close the door, because if I have to listen to him insult my mother again, I might hurt him.

Immediately, the doorbell starts ringing again and he pounds on the door. “I want to talk to you, Laini!” he calls. “I want to know where my dad is.”

Suddenly there’s a crash and the sound of breaking glass fills the room.

Okay, that’s it. I’m officially freaked out. I remember Ben’s warning about being careful of Chad, and I’m taking no chances with my life or my mom’s house. Snatching up the phone, I run upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom, then dial 911. I hear a few more bangs and know he’s doing damage out there.

“Please, God,” I beg, curled up on the bathroom floor, phone to my ear, “don’t let me die like this.”

The police arrive a few minutes later, but there’s no trace of Chad. There is, however, quite a bit of damage. He’s whacked holes in the siding in more than one place and dented in the gutter. He broke two of the living room windows. I’m sick at the thought of what this will cost. I don’t know if Mom’s insurance will cover this kind of damage. And if it does, what will that do to her ability to get insurance at an affordable rate for the condo she plans to buy with Aaron?

The police take my statement and my assurance that I’ll get in touch with the house’s owner, and leave. Just like that, with glass all over the place and the perpetrator still on the loose. Chad might be waiting in the bushes next door for all they know.

Fear seizes me. Real fear. The kind that gnaws at me and makes me seriously feel like I might throw up.

I’m all alone and staring at broken glass. I have no idea what I’m going to do about those windows.
Okay, Laini. Focus.
First thing I am going to do is call someone. Mark seems the logical choice—police officer and all.