by Libby Klein
Alex shook her head for a long time before the words came out of her mouth. “No. No. I will not move back to Philly. I want us to stay here and run La Dolce Vita.”
I felt a scrap of fear begin to flutter to the surface.
Gia took Alex’s hands in his. “Mia cara, I cannot stay here by Poppy. If we are to be together, I have to start over away from her. I never thought you would return to me and I let myself fall in love again.”
Alex crossed her arms over her chest and leaned away from Gia. “No. This is no good for me.”
Momma grabbed Alex’s wrist, and she appeared to be pleading with her, but Alex would only shake her head no.
Zio Alfio threw his hands in the air. “Then what you want, eh? You got marito! You got bambino! What is problem?”
Alex threw her hand in the air like double karate chops. “I want the inheritance I was promised!”
Gia yelled, “There is no inheritance! My father is dead thirty years—he leave nothing!”
Everyone was yelling now. I was impressed that the men in Hawaiian shirts were able to ignore the chaos and eat their biscotti like it was any other day. The woman probably hadn’t read a word in ten minutes.
Zio Alfio picked up his briefcase and slammed it on the table to silence everyone.
Aunt Ginny looked at me and nodded her approval. “That’s how you do that.”
Zio Alfio leaned toward Alex. “What, you want to walk away? Eh?”
I held my breath.
“I want La Dolce Vita and I want you to sign my citizenship form saying we have been married seven years.”
Zio Alfio opened his briefcase and pulled out some papers. He handed Alex a pen.
She perused the documents. “This is permanent resident form? It says we have been together the whole time?”
Zio Alfio nodded. “Sì.”
Alex signed it and handed the pen to Gia.
He stared at her for a moment with hurt on his face, then signed it.
She flipped through the papers. “This one is for divorce?”
Zio Alfio nodded again and fluttered his fingers. “Sì, sì, sì.”
I grabbed Aunt Ginny’s hand and squeezed.
Alex put the pen down. “I will only sign if La Dolce Vita is one hundred percent mine.”
Zio Alfio pulled out another document. “Transfer of ownership. I prepare just in case.”
Alex nodded and picked the pen back up.
Gia stood and paced back and forth. “You do not love me?”
“No, Giampaolo. I do not.”
“Then why do you come to break my heart again?”
Alex signed and turned the paper to Gia. “Sign over your business to me and you are free.”
Oh my god. Gia couldn’t possibly . . . the price is too high.
Gia’s face twisted in pain and frustration. He ran his hand through his hair. “This is all I have, Alex. You even take Henry. You will leave me with nothing.”
Alex thought for a minute. “I will sign over parental rights. You can have Henry for La Dolce Vita.”
I started to get up to go out there and tear her hair out by the roots for not wanting the world’s sweetest little boy, but Aunt Ginny held tight on my hand. “No. Just wait.”
Gia made a lot of complaints in Italian, then he begrudgingly signed the contracts. “They are of no use to you until they are witnessed and notarized.”
The woman in the corner spoke up. “I’m a notary.”
Zio Alfio shouted, “Eh! Dolce signora, per favore!” He waved his hand toward the document. “Giusto qui. Sì.”
The woman took her bag to the table and brought out her notary seal. “I need some witnesses to sign, though.”
“We can witness.” The tourists in Hawaiian shirts stood and went to the table. Gia got so upset he had to walk away.
The tourists returned to their table and Alex smiled approvingly at her copies of the documents.
Zio Alfio put his copies in his briefcase and nodded at Gia. “Va bene.”
Gia went back to the table. “Why do you do this, Alex? Why do you come back only to make trouble? Why do you not stay with me?”
Alex folded her papers and put them in her purse. “I want more than this.” She nodded her head toward the espresso machine.
Gia placed his palms on the table and leaned to face her. “Then why do you want La Dolce Vita?”
Alex coolly crossed her legs, and one side of her mouth grinned. “Papa wants to expand the Morello DiSanto distribution in the United States, and La Dolce Vita will be his home base.”
The look on Gia’s face was incredulous. “This is about the fake olive oil your father sends through this country?”
Alex’s mask came all the way off and she leveled a look of contempt at Gia. “So what if it’s mostly soybean? That fake olive oil has kept your family in money for years. If it were not for Papa laundering Morello DiSanto through Momma’s ristorante and giving her a cut of the profit, do you think Mia Famiglia would have survived this long? Your family needs Vincenzo Scarduzio.”
Aunt Ginny gasped.
I whispered, “What is happening?”
Aunt Ginny whispered back, “Gia’s mother is the Mob connection.”
Momma smacked the table. “No! Basta!”
Alex laughed bitterly. “I told you months ago, Oliva, it’s too late for that now. No one turns their back on the family. If you dishonor Papa, it might get out that Luca has been smuggling the olive oil for you through his imports business. I don’t believe he has ever turned in those customs forms, has he? Your son got his precious divorce that you asked for. Let’s just leave it at that and be happy. Now, everyone needs to get out of my shop so I can call Papa and tell him the news.”
One of the men in a Hawaiian shirt spoke into his watch. “We’re a go.” He approached Alex and put his hand on her elbow. “Alexandra Scarduzio, I’m going to need you to come with me, please.”
Alex jerked her arm away from him. “What? I’m not going anywhere. Who are you?”
“Agent Scott with US Customs and Border Patrol. My partner, Agent Robinson. Ma’am, we’re placing you under arrest.”
Alex stamped her foot. “No. I am not a US citizen; I demand to be taken to the Italian consulate!”
Agent Scott cocked his head. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I personally witnessed your citizenship application. You’ll be spending a few years in a good old United States prison.”
He started to lead Alex from the coffee shop, and she called over her shoulder, “You all think you’re so smart, but this isn’t over. La Dolce Vita is still mine.”
Zio Alfio crossed his arms and threw them out like an umpire. “No. Is no good.”
Alex narrowed her eyes and her forehead crinkled in tiny lines. “What are you talking about, old man?”
Gia crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “He means you should have read the contract closer. There is a clause in the transfer of ownership that if you get arrested in the first year of business, the contract is void and the property reverts back to me.”
Alex’s entire countenance drooped. “Are you serious?”
Gia nodded. “You had one year to mess up and you did not last one hour.”
“You will regret this. When I talk to Vincenzo Scarduzio, he will make you pay.”
The customs agents removed Alex from the building and Zio Alfio cheered.
Gia disappeared from the screen and a moment later threw open the door to the office.
I leapt into his arms and kissed him with a thousand kisses that I’d been holding on to from the moment Alex appeared. “Is it really over?”
His eyes sparkled with emotion. “It is over. I am all yours.”
EPILOGUE
One Week Later
My house had been taken over by pink streamers and gold mylar. When I’d agreed to let Smitty throw Georgina’s birthday party here, I didn’t realize he was going to fill enough helium balloons to launch an old codger
in a lawn chair into space.
Figaro was in cat ninja heaven. Prowling and performing sneak attacks on the curly ribbons dangling enticingly throughout the house. A few times the ribbons got the upper hand, and he had to retreat to the sunroom to regroup. It had taken a few cans of tuna to heal his broken heart from Portia’s absence, but I think the last two days he’d just been milking it. If he had any idea about the Internet sensation he’d become since the Parkers posted his photo on Instagram, he would be insufferable. His squished face was made into a dozen memes overnight. All of them crabby.
Georgina’s pink Louboutins clacked down the dark, wood-plank hallway from the foyer. “Poppy! Did you make that strawberry tiramisu that I love?” She poked her head into the kitchen and reared back. “Oh, sorry. There’s nowhere to knock before coming in here.”
I giggled, and Gia reluctantly released me from the embrace my pretty-in-pink, former mother-in-law had just walked in on. “I made it.”
“Oh good. I told my little Smitty I would take care of all the food.”
When Georgina says she will take care of all the food, what she means is she will order me to take care of all the food. “Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.”
The doorbell rang, and I left Gia in charge of the coffee to go answer it. It was Mrs. Pritchard, shamefaced and holding a banana cream pie. “I’ve come to apologize.”
I took the pie she held out and gave her a little smile. “I never told Aunt Ginny it was you. Mostly because I didn’t know how to explain it.”
She wrung her hands and looked everywhere but at me. “He blocks the afternoon sun from Mr. Lincoln.”
“You’ve been shooting our giant, inflatable rabbit because he casts shade on your roses?”
“They won’t bloom if they don’t get enough sun. Mr. Lincoln has won very prestigious awards. He takes first place in the Cape May Flower Show every year. I need to defend his title.”
I gave the older woman in orthopedic shoes and knee-high stockings a chastising stare down. “You could have really hurt someone, you know that?”
She gave me a meek nod. “It’s just a pellet gun. They aren’t real bullets.”
“It’s still dangerous. We thought it was drive-by shooters.”
Mrs. Pritchard turned gentle eyes up to mine. “I had to wait for the cars to go by to cover the sound of the shot, like that sniper said on Dateline.”
“Well, if you promise never to shoot that pellet gun toward anyone’s yard again, I won’t tell Aunt Ginny.”
Mrs. Pritchard gave me a genuine smile. “Deal.”
“And next time just come talk to me. Don’t pick off the lawn ornaments in your nightgown, okay?”
She agreed and promised to keep me posted on Mr. Lincoln’s standings this summer.
The biddies pulled into the driveway and Mrs. Dodson honked twice. Gia went out to unload the car and bring in their packages.
Henry flew down the hall from helping Aunt Ginny wrap Georgina’s presents and passed me to help carry in the groceries. He returned with a giant bag of potato chips. Smitty had not been totally hands off with the menu. Georgina didn’t become the model of high-society soirees in the Waterford elite set by serving potato chips and onion dip.
Smitty was right behind Henry with a case of some funky-weird sassafras soda that I knew wasn’t sanctioned either. “Oi, wise guy. Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck.”
Henry threw his head back and belly laughed. “Guh nuh yuck.”
A police car pulled up in front of the house and Sawyer climbed out. She kissed Ben Consuelos goodbye and he gave me a wave before taking off. “He’s sorry he can’t stay, but he’s on duty. And oh my gosh, I have the most hilarious thing to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“Lance Rubin’s funeral was this morning. Six widows showed up to sit in the front row and started a riot in the funeral home.”
“Get out!”
“I’m serious! It’s all over local news. And guess who sent a touching tribute for the eulogy?”
I thought. “Doctors Without Borders?”
Sawyer nodded. “He actually did three tours in Somalia.”
We walked to the kitchen together, laughing. “How are things going at Casa Consuelos?”
Sawyer blushed. “I hope Kurt never moves out.”
The biddies were in the living room sneaking hors d’oeuvres and Georgina and Smitty were pretending not to notice. I had just taken a pan of onion cheese tarts from the oven when the doorbell rang again.
Figaro galloped ahead and tried to trip me, as was his custom. I dodged and threatened to punt him next time, as was mine.
“Hey, Amber. How was the memorial?”
Amber stood on my porch in her police uniform, her hat in her hands. “I bet there were a hundred people packed into that little church. Temarius touched a lot more lives than Fischer ever imagined.”
“I’m so sorry I had to leave early, but I’m thrilled that you’ve been reinstated. Come in.”
She entered the foyer and looked around at the balloons and the party in the next room. “I just wanted to let you know that Clayton Fischer pulled through, and he’s been charged in the murder of Temarius Jackson and Lance Rubin.”
“How are you doing? I know you looked up to him.”
She shifted her feet. “Yeah, well. I don’t think I really knew him after all. We have a new chief now. A transfer from Trenton.”
My mouth dropped open and I gasped. “No.”
She nodded. “Yep. Kieran Dunne is the new Cape May chief of police. And he’s already making threats to give me a partner for accountability.”
“Holy cow.”
“He impressed the right people.”
Speaking of... “Amber. I’m sorry if I’ve somehow made you look bad. . . .”
She cut me off. “Please. I don’t care what anyone thinks. And if they had any idea about how little you know what you’re doing, and how many times I’ve had to save your sorry behind, I’d start getting hazard pay.”
“You are a really good cop.”
Amber took a step back and cleared her throat. “So, I just stopped by to say thank you, and to let you know I’m working on my next case.”
Aunt Ginny walked into the foyer to offer Amber a glass of punch.
“I’m investigating illegal marijuana distribution disguised as CBD gummies. Officer Birkwell picked up a packet of MyTHiC Teddies at the Expo that have been laced with cannabis. Do you know anything about that?”
Aunt Ginny said, “Nope.” She spun around without giving Amber the punch and left the foyer.
I smiled. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”
She put her hat on and turned to reach for the door. “You do that.”
“Amber?”
“What?”
“Would you like to stay? We’re having a party for my former mother-in-law, who’s dating my handyman.... I have potato chips and M&M’s.”
Amber blinked twice. Then she smiled. “Sure. If you want, I can stay for a little while.”
Amber went to join the others and I went to the kitchen to pour the potato chips in a bowl. Mrs. Dodson came in and took a look around. “So, my girl did a good job for you?”
Aunt Ginny brought in an empty tray to be refilled with grapes and cheese. “She was great. You should have seen her in there. Cool as a cucumber.”
I took the tray from Aunt Ginny. “No grapes this time. And who are we talking about?”
Mrs. Dodson tapped her cane on the ground and flashed a full set of dentures. “You didn’t recognize her?”
“Recognize who?”
Gia returned from Wawa carrying two twenty-pound bags of ice, one on each shoulder.
Mrs. Dodson motioned to Gia. “Your man there asked for a notary to seal his divorce. That was my Charlotte in the coffee shop.”
Aunt Ginny nudged me. “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize her.”
“I was just trying to hold it together. I didn’t pay any atte
ntion to anyone not at that table.” Look at him carry that ice.
Aunt Ginny brought the ice bucket out of the mudroom and placed it on the counter. “Yes, we’ve all noticed your tunnel vision.”
Gia’s eyes softened and he put the ice in the sink. He came closer and kissed me.
Aunt Ginny and Mrs. Dodson both made yuck noises and left the kitchen.
I didn’t care.
He looked into my eyes. “Why don’t we run away together and tell no one?”
“What about Henry?”
“We will take him. We can homeschool. You teach him English and cooking and I will teach him Italian and how to tell the difference between good olive oil and fake.”
“Oh yeah, that’ll come in handy. Especially with your family.”
“Maybe Momma can visit once in a while, when she’s not doing community service.”
“All this time she hated me because you were still married, and your divorce threatened her business with the Mob. I can’t believe you turned her in to the feds.”
“Amore mio, the Mob is not what it used to be. Momma will lose a lot of money from not working with Vincenzo Scarduzio, but she was going to be caught soon anyway. The agents looking for me at the Expo were already investigating her. They were on to Signor Scarduzio for months. I made sure we had a signed immunity agreement before I told them anything.”
“I thought they were looking to arrest you.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I am not now and have never been in the Mafia.”
I snuggled into him. “Why didn’t you just tell me that before?”
“Because you were so funny, trying to catch me in all your beat-around-the-bush questions.”
“Is there anything else I need to know about you? Any other secrets?”
His face became very serious. “There is one. But you will find out eventually.”
“Uh-oh. What is it?”
“I snore.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Steven Haddock, PhD, of the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute for his invaluable information on jellyfish toxins.
And to Allie Marie, retired police chief and author of the True Colors Series, Mark Bergin, retired officer and author of Apprehension, and retired Officer and FBI Agent Mayme Boyd for their assistance with police procedure and Internal Affairs protocols.
