"Well, good," Ma says. "I don't want to upset them. It's a stressful time."
I haven’t told Ma that her sister lingers in the afterlife. They had a falling out before Aunt Stella’s death, and whenever I bring up her name, Ma changes the subject. I figure it’s better if she’s in the dark. It’s not like Aunt Stella can suddenly surprise her by visiting.
My phone buzzes again.
I roll my eyes. What's so important?
"Ma, I should go. Tell Pop and everyone I love them, and I'll call back as soon as I can."
After another two minutes of good-byes and I-love-yous, we hang up. I look at my missed calls. One is from Claudia and the other from her parents' house. What's going on?
I'm about to call Claudia back when the phone buzzes in my hand. It's her parent's house line.
"Hello?"
"Gianna, oh thank goodness you answered." It's Aunt Angela, and she sounds like she skipped stressed and jumped straight into frantic.
My stomach tightens automatically. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes," she practically screams into my ear. "Claudia is missing."
* * *
It only takes me ten minutes to fly out of the apartment, speed around cars, and pull into my aunt and uncle's driveway. Normally it's fifteen to twenty minutes, depending on traffic, so I may have broken a few driving laws along the way. My aunt isn't usually known for hysterics. She and Uncle Franco are both pretty calm. It's their daughter who throws a fit if her hair doesn't come out right or she chips a nail.
As I step from my brand new, car-payments-that-eat-half-my-income, silver Kia Rio into the cold night, the front door opens. Aunt Angela waves me over, as if I've forgotten the way up her front walk.
When I reach her, she pulls me in for a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "Have you spoken to her at all?"
I really don't want to risk my health and admit to the missed call because I was talking to my mommy, so I lie. Yes, it's awful, but I did call Claudia back, as soon as I hung up with Aunt Angela, and it went straight to voicemail, so technically “no, I haven’t spoken to her” is the truth.
We walk into the kitchen, past the Christmas tree with its white lights and globs of tinsel and gaudy, gold garland. I can't stand those two decorations. Tinsel is messy, falls all over the carpet, and is hard to get up, and garland… Well, other than being ugly, my brother, Enzo, used to chase me around our house with it, trying to lasso me.
Uncle Franco is pouring himself a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter. I wonder how many he's had so far today. He greets me with a warm smile, hug, and kiss. Aunt Stella is seated in a chair at the table.
Ghosts look like regular people. Sometimes it's hard to tell them apart from everyone else. It usually becomes apparent if they're hovering slightly above the floor or walking through walls and furniture.
Of course Aunt Stella always stands out. She wears a bright yellow bathrobe that reminds me of Tweety Bird. Thank goodness she reached for it and put it on before slipping, hitting her head, and drowning in the tub. Otherwise, I'd be staring at her wrinkly birthday suit.
She doesn't acknowledge me at all. I think it's because I'm Ma's daughter. Aunt Stella won’t speak about her and Ma’s falling out either. They’re both stubborn, but while Ma uses the silent treatment when she’s upset, Aunt Stella is the opposite. That woman can talk for hours.
"So what happened?" I ask and sit across from my grumpy aunt, who looks just like Grumpy Cat minus the pointy ears and blue eyes. Guess Aunt Stella forgot to shave her mustache before she got into that fatal bath. Now she's stuck with it for all of eternity.
Aunt Angela turns to me with that look of terror on her face. I've come to learn things usually aren't as bad as one would think from that expression, but to her, the apocalypse has arrived.
"She woke up late, and her brothers came over. We had a great brunch. Just like when they were little, right?" She looks to Uncle Franco for confirmation.
He nods. "Yeah, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and chocolate milk." He smiles. It's big and goofy and makes him look like an endearing dog.
"Then she went up to take a bath, and when I checked on her, she was gone." Aunt Angela screeches the last word.
Uncle Franco puts a hand on her shoulder. "We're going to find her, Ange. She didn't get kidnapped. She just said she needs some time to think things through."
Wait. What? "So you spoke to her?" I ask.
Aunt Stella chuckles. "She left them a note."
Aunt Angela snatches a sheet of notepaper off the counter and shoves it in my face.
I take it and frown at Aunt Stella, who's laughing like a hyena.
"What?" she asks. "You know Claudia as well as the rest of us. She's a drama queen, and she's rubbed off on my sister. Can parents inherit traits from their kids?"
I smirk and read the note.
I don't know if I want to get married anymore. Don't tell Henry. I love him, but I need to figure it out on my own. Don't worry. I just need a little time to think. I'll call.
Claud
Well that doesn't tell much. Normally Claudia talks until you want to stuff her mouth with the nearest object. With me, that's usually a sandwich. I make killer ones.
"And she didn't say anything during brunch or last night?" I hand the note back to my aunt.
She and Uncle Franco both shake their heads.
I look to Aunt Stella, who has a knack for eavesdropping on conversations. Ghosts are good that way. But she only glances at me from the corner of her eye. I can't tell if that means she knows something or not, and I certainly can't ask in front of my aunt and uncle.
One of the other two people who know my secret is my former high school friend. We haven't been in contact since she stabbed me in the back. She told my secret to my crush, who thankfully didn't believe her, but I learned my lesson. No one else learns the truth. Ever. Living with Claudia, spending Sunday dinners and birthdays with my aunt and uncle…I can't take the chance.
Aunt Angela throws up her arms. "What is that girl thinking? We spent all this money on the wedding of her dreams, and she walks away?"
She points a finger in Uncle Franco's face. "This is all your fault. If you hadn't spoiled her all these years. Daddy's little girl…" she pffts.
He rolls his eyes and looks away. "I distinctly remember it was your idea to buy her a car for her sweet sixteen, and you hired clowns and ponies for her lavish birthday parties."
Aunt Stella chuckles. "See."
"You can't blame me. That was just a few times. Who does she always go to when she needs money? Still, even as an adult."
Uncle Franco glances away, guilt all over his face.
Aunt Stella's laughter practically turns into howling. I almost shush her.
"Exactly." Aunt Angela huffs. "And why are you so calm? As you love to remind me, this is your money."
Ouch. I bet I'm not supposed to hear that.
He presses his lips together, and annoyance fills every wrinkle on his doughy face. "I got it under control."
"What's that mean?" Aunt Angela shrieks.
It's moments like this that I see the resemblance between her and Ma. The strong Italian nose, the heart-shaped face, and the soft widow’s peak at the top center of her hairline.
"What about Henry and her friends?" I ask, wanting to diffuse the situation. "Have any of them seen or heard from her?"
Aunt Angela glances at their spotless linoleum. "If she's not there, I don't want to arouse suspicion."
I inwardly roll my eyes. Claudia could be in bed with Henry for all we know. I pull out my cell, and the doorbell rings. "Maybe that's her."
Aunt Angela shakes her head. "She has a key."
Uncle Franco grins and walks off. "That's for me."
He's entertaining guests at a time like this?
When he reenters the kitchen, a man walks in behind him. A tall, dark-haired man with a chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, a glorious tanned complexion, and icy gray eyes.
Holy
Hot Christmas!
* * *
Suddenly the air in the room has shifted. Aunt Stella sits a bit taller. Aunt Angela has found her inside voice. And I have the urge to ride this stranger's sleigh, shouting, "Ho, ho, ho."
Uncle Franco makes introductions and is the only one apparently unaffected by this beautiful male specimen.
When the greetings get to me, I eagerly hold out my hand and nearly melt when his warm flesh slides against mine. Okay, so it's been a year, a very long year since I've practiced the horizontal mambo with anyone. "Gianna Mancini," I say, but I swear it sounds like a purr. Gosh, I hope I used actual words.
One corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other. "Julian Reed."
Even his name is sexy.
"Julian is going to find Claudia," Uncle Franco says.
No fair. She already has one man. Wait. What? I stare at my uncle and replay his words in my mind. Oh, he said find. I only heard the eff sound. Never mind.
"How?" Aunt Angela says, stepping closer, practically becoming my Siamese twin.
Down woman, you have a man too.
I glare at Aunt Stella, who hovers over me. And you're dead, so this one is all mine.
Julian lets go of my hand, and my sanity returns.
I take a step back and out of his dizzying spell. What's wrong with me? I never react to men this way. Well, not when sober. And yes, he's gorgeous, but he's still just a guy. There are more important things to be enthralled with. Like how my awesome, loving, selfish cousin is God knows where, and I need to find her. She will get married tomorrow because I'm not missing Christmas with my family and spending money I don’t have on a red satin bridesmaid gown for nothing. I totally intend on DIYing that red sucker after the wedding though. Cut and hem it to just above my knees and yank off the sheer sleeves. I’m not a seamstress, but being a bigger girl means knowing how to alter, and it’ll look hot when I’m done.
"I'm an investigator," Julian says.
"He works for Rudy's lawyer," Uncle Franco says to Aunt Angela.
I've no idea who Rudy is, but she must because she nods. This doesn't seem like a vital enough reason to hire a private investigator, but I'm not objecting. Anything to get on with the night's plans of daiquiris, pita chips, and sweet red pepper hummus.
"So fill me in on what's happened," Julian says, removing his coat. Tall, lean, and apparently someone who takes care of himself physically, he looks like he was chiseled out of stone by a nymph.
While Aunt Angela makes more coffee, and Uncle Franco fills Julian in, note and all, I sit at the table and drool just a bit, trying to look natural.
He sits in the chair to my left. It's a round table with four seats. His leg brushes against mine as he pushes in his chair.
"Hubba, hubba. Too bad I'm not corporeal," says Aunt Stella. "I'd dip my Italian bread in him."
I can't help but laugh.
He raises a brow at me. "Is something funny?"
Great. Now I look like an idiot. "Sorry, just nervous energy. So I'm going to go ahead and call Henry and her friends now."
Uncle Franco jerks forward. "Um, do you think that's a good idea, Julian?"
I frown at my uncle. Is he serious? He's asking for permission for me to make a phone call? Does he want to find his daughter or not?
Julian frowns too. "I would've thought that's the first thing you'd do." But he says it to me as if I'm the one in charge of this fiasco. His attitude just made him lose one star on his hotness rating.
I jab my screen and call Henry first.
He picks up after the second ring. "Gianna, hi, what's wrong?"
I grimace and fake laugh. Luckily he doesn't know me as well as my cousin. "Why do you think something's wrong?"
Uncle Franco slaps the counter. "See," he whispers.
I look away, not wanting anyone to distract me. Claudia is twenty-four years old. She's a grown woman. If she wants to go off to think about life, isn't that better than getting married when she's not ready? Isn't she allowed to make up her mind? And why can't the man she may marry not know about it? I love my aunt and uncle, but they still coddle her way too much.
"Oh, I just figured. You never call me," he says, his tone returning to normal.
I smile even though he can't see it. "Well, you aren't allowed to see or talk to the bride the day before, so I'm calling for her."
He laughs. "Oh, I see. So what does she want?"
Bingo. If she's with him now, he wouldn't say that. He'd wonder what I'm talking about.
"She wants to know…" I glance around the room, wishing I'd thought this conversation through before I dialed. My gaze settles on Julian. "Um, boxers or briefs?"
Aunt Stella cackles. Aunt Angela intakes sharply.
Julian smirks, and I swear I spot color crawling into his cheeks.
"Um, well, what?" Henry stammers.
I give a fake giggle. "She's wondering about tomorrow. Sorry if this is too personal."
I cover my forehead and eyes with my hand and shake my head. What the heck possesses me sometimes?
Henry chuckles. "No, it's fine. Tell her briefs. Boxers don't work well with my tux."
"Will do. Okay. Thanks." I click off and groan.
Aunt Angela places a cup of coffee in front of Julian. "You did fine, dear."
Instead of looking up, I make the next call.
"Ohmigod, Gianna, I was just going to call Claudia," Kimmy says in her constant excited tone. "You must have pathology."
"Excuse me?"
"You know, when you can read someone else's mind," she says.
I bite my lower lip, suppressing a chuckle, then say, "You mean telepathy."
She giggles. She's a constant giggler. "That's it. So what does Claudia need? She didn't lose that bottle of Pink Fusion nail polish, did she? It's my favorite, and I can't find anymore anywhere. I called the company…"
"No," I interrupt. "She didn't lose it." Another bingo. Claudia is obviously not with her BFF from high school either.
"Is that Gianna?" a voice says in the distant. "Ask her if we need to bring ice." It's Bess, BFF and bridesmaid number two.
"Actually, I'm calling to let you both know that tonight's off."
Kimmy gasps. "What's wrong?"
"Claudia's having one of her migraines, so it's best if we cancel tonight."
Aunt Angela nods her approval.
"But it's her bachelorette party," Kimmy says with Bess tossing "what's wrong" at her.
"I know, but it's best if she's well enough to walk down the aisle." If she walks down the aisle.
Kimmy huffs. "You're right. Tell her we love her and we'll see her first thing in the morning."
"Will do. Bye." I hang up before Bess grabs the phone, and I'm stuck having to explain, aka lie, more. "She's not with any of them."
"Is there anyone else she'd go to when upset? Any place?" Julian asks.
The girls, Henry, and I are her support team. There isn't anyone else. But…
"There is a place she and I used to go to, when I first moved to Connecticut. We haven't been there in forever, not since she started dating Henry, but she might be there."
I stand up and slip my phone into my pocket. "I'll find her."
Julian stands too. "I'll drive."
What? I don't need his help to drive across town. "It's faster if I just go myself."
"Yes, Julian should lead. It's why I asked him to help," Uncle Franco says. He stands tall, which is still short compared to Julian. He's always been sexist, treating Claudia differently from his sons. He's never treated me this way before though.
Aunt Stella hovers beside me. "Don't let him get to you, kid. He's a jerk. I don't know what my sister sees in him. Come on. Let's go get our girl."
It's the nicest thing she's ever said to me.
"Fine." I say, but I have no intention of anyone else taking the lead. I walk outside with Julian on my heels.
* * *
Julian pulls up to the park, and there Claudia is, sea
ted on a bench.
Woo hoo!
I start to raise my hand to high-five, but there's no one to reciprocate. Too bad Uncle Franco isn't here to see the I-told-you-so gleam in my eye.
"I'll get her," I say before Julian opens his door.
He nods, turns off the ignition, and leans back into his seat.
I open my door and jump out of his black SUV. It's only a few yards to the bench, but the wind has picked up. I pull the collar of my purple fleece coat tighter around my neck. The air smells like snow, and the stubble of grass crunches beneath my boots.
Claudia's always been a boy kind of girl. Those kind where boys surround her entire life. First she was Daddy's perfect angel, then the object of her brothers' protection, and then fawned over by boyfriends. Not that she's had that many. Only one in particular stands out as serious, but she's always with a guy. The kind of girl who never experiences life as a single. Never eats a meal or goes to a movie by herself. I'm even surprised she's sitting out here alone.
When I reach the bench, she doesn't turn to see who I am. Maybe she is telepathic. I sit beside her, our shoulders and legs touching.
"Do you remember how we used to sit here at night, back when we thought our futures were ahead of us?"
I smile. "Aren't our futures still ahead of us?"
She shrugs. "I'm not so sure anymore."
I lean my head on her shoulder, and she rests hers on my cold curls. Usually she's the one who initiates this position, the one who comes to me, but we don't have time to wait. And it's bleeping cold out here. "So what's going on? Cold feet?"
She smirks and rubs her red pumps together. "It is below freezing."
There's my smart ass. It doesn't come to her naturally. She learned all she knows from moi.
"And about tomorrow?" Normally I wouldn't mind batting the sarcasm back and forth for a while, but the tip of my nose is going numb.
I'm expecting another shrug, to have to yank the answers from her, but she must be almost frozen too because she pulls a folded card from her coat pocket.
Another letter?
It's on plain white stock, nothing on the back or front, and inside it reads:
Cozy Christmas Shorts Page 49
