The Minnesota Candidate

by Nicholas Antinozzi

“Oh, isn’t that sweet?” asked Shari. She then turned to the other boy. “And you must be Pete.”

  “Daddy says you talk like Popeye,” said the little boy. “Why do you do that?”

  Shari stood up and turned her back on the boys. Tom pointed at Lumpy and hooked his thumb high into the air. Lumpy gave Tom an apologetic look and quickly ushered his boys away. “What a terrible thing to say,” said Doris, crossing her arms across her bosom. “I’m sorry, dear.”

  Shari turned around and Tom was happy to see that she wasn’t crying. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, “I’m used to people saying things like that.”

  Tom watched in fury as Lumpy gave Crazy Steve his Popeye imitation. Both men laughed as if it was the funniest thing since the rubber chicken, unaware that Tom was watching them. There was a humming sound from the water and Tom began sprinting to the dock. Someone had started the Chris-Craft.

  Somehow, they made it through the evening. Shari ordered ten large pizzas from Domino’s and set out two cases of her favorite Moscato, while Tom kept a close eye on what he considered to be the worst of the lot. They drank and ate and shared stories. Many of these stories were highly embarrassing to Tom. At midnight, despite several protests from the party animal segment of the family, Tom called Yellow Cab and ordered another fleet of taxis. By 1:00 Monday morning, Tom and Shari were snug in their bed.

  They talked for nearly another hour. Shari surprised Tom by telling him how much she enjoyed their night. She confessed that she thought his family was full of warm, colorful characters; the kind of big extended family that she had always dreamed of belonging to. The only thing she hadn’t liked was the way everyone had called him Fat Tommy. Tom responded by telling her that she didn’t know that group like he did, but she seemed unfazed by the warning. Secretly, Tom had been impressed by how well the night had gone. There were no fist fights and as far as they could tell, nothing was missing. He was still angry with his mom. She had known exactly what she was doing, even if her scheme had seemingly failed.

  Back home in Northeast Minneapolis, Doris Picacello fell asleep to her favorite Dean Martin album. She smiled even as she snored, content in the knowledge that she had planted plenty of bad seeds in Tommy’s new life.

  Chapter 3

  Early the following morning, Tom and Shari were up, showered, and out of the house. Shari surprised Tom with yet another secret, this one being a Mercedes Benz M-Class ML350. “You can have it,” she said. “I never drive it and it’s a four wheel drive, so I know you’ll be safe when it snows.”

  Again, Tom was at a loss for words. He had never owned an SUV; in fact, he had never owned a vehicle that had been produced in this century. “Thank you,” he said, feeling tremendous gratitude, but also feeling like kind of a schlep. He wasn’t used to any of this, not the house or the gifts, not the way of life, and he wanted Shari to know that she was what was important, not her money. He constantly reminded her of that, even as they spent the day upgrading his wardrobe. The shopping spree was unlike any that Tom had ever experienced. Instead of buying one item at a time, Shari bought them by the dozen. Finally, Tom put up his hands and told her that he had had enough.

  “Look,” Shari said, “I know this is a little overwhelming right now, but just be a good sport and play along, alright? I want you to have nice things. You deserve them and so much more... I want to make you the happiest man on earth.”

  “I know you do, but I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m taking advantage of your generosity. I was already the happiest man in the world when we left Vegas. You’ve spent a lot of money, baby. I think we should call it a day.”

  Shari laughed at that. “Tom, do you want to know what our net worth is?”

  Tom shook his head and shrugged. “I keep telling you that money isn’t important,” he said, but curious at the same time. He was behind the wheel of the Mercedes, fighting the mid-day traffic on 394. When Shari shared her latest secret, Tom nearly drove off the road. His heart slammed inside his chest and his face flushed.

  “Careful there, cowboy,” said Shari, giggling. “I was going to drop that on you after we got back home. So, you see, we can afford to do anything we want.”

  “I don’t understand. Why do you keep working? I think I’d retire if I had that kind of money.”

  “And you don’t have to work, that’s what I’m telling you. I work because I love my job. I’m also damn good at what I do. Look baby, the world is our oyster. We’re going to sit down tonight and pay off all your debts, especially that student loan. By tomorrow morning, you won’t owe anyone a dime. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds great,” said Tom, knowing that wasn’t exactly true. He still owed his mother a great deal. As mean as she could be, she had still raised him in a good home, had still insisted he go to college; she had gone without so he could have a better life. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t still angry with her for how she had acted the previous day. And while there was no way he wanted her living under the same roof, he did want to share some of his good fortune with her. He just didn’t know how to bring that up to Shari. She was still stinging after what his mom had said to her and he knew this would be a bad time to bring the subject up.

  They ate a delicious dinner and had drinks at the Bayside Grille on Lake Minnetonka. This was Shari’s favorite restaurant on the lake and it seemed as if everyone knew her. Tom found himself the center of attention and could see that her friends were sizing him up. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so uncomfortable. These weren’t his kind of people, and they would never be his kind of people, he was sure of it. While they were friendly, there were plenty of backhanded compliments and some outright jabs, especially when it came to Shari’s wedding ring.

  They arrived at their table in twos and threes, the beautiful people, tanned and trim with snow white teeth, dressed casually to the nines. Tom thought they were smug and arrogant, vulgar, plastic people, with overinflated opinions of themselves. Many brought their political opinions and religious beliefs into the conversation, and Tom had to bite his lip to keep from getting into an argument. One man, a fifty-something George Hamilton clone, even offered to buy Shari’s property, lock, stock, and barrel. “I’ll give you top dollar for that property,” he boasted. “And you know that’s the truth,” he added, confidently.

  “Daddy would roll over in his grave,” said Shari, not missing a beat, and not bothering to further explain herself.

  “He was a good man,” said George Hamilton, “the best. We really miss him at the Yacht Club. He was a helluva tennis player.”

  “Yes,” agreed Shari, “he was. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to get Tom back home. We’ve had a long day.”

  Tom stood and George offered him his hand and the two shook. George clamped down on Tom’s hand by the fingers and he gave them a hard squeeze. George smiled and Tom could tell that he had practiced the move, many times. Tom smiled through the pain and didn’t say anything until they were back inside the SUV. “That last guy was really a creep,” he said. “I think he was trying to break my fingers.”

  Shari shook her head and groaned. “That was Bernie Lehman, and he’s a total asshole. He’s been after me to sell him the lake place since Daddy passed away. I can’t stand him. I’m sorry about putting you on display like that. You were a real trooper. I just wanted the word to get out there that I’ve remarried. I’m sure the news has already spread halfway around the lake. One thing about rich people, they love their gossip almost as much as they love their money. Do you know who lives in the house next door to us? Senator Levitz. He and my dad were best friends.”

  “No kidding? Wow, that’s pretty cool. I hear he’s lucky to be alive after that car accident.”

  Shari nodded. “I know, but my dad always said that Merle had a horseshoe stuck up his ass. They used to play cards.”

  Tom started up the Mercedes and laughed. He then pulled out of the parking lot. He had felt out of his element and was happy t
o leave the place in his rearview mirror.

  With Shari navigating, they talked about the people Tom had met. They were the movers and shakers of the Twin Cities. Like Shari, many had been bluebloods, born into their place in the world. Still, there were others who had earned their money the old-fashioned way. Shari explained that while the bluebloods accepted these newcomers into their fold, they still looked down on these people with new money. Tom laughed at this, wondering out loud where those people got such a high opinion of themselves. They continued talking as Tom pulled into the driveway. The day had quickly slipped away from them and the sun was already beginning to set over the lake. Tom snaked the Mercedes around the S-curves, enjoying how the SUV sucked up the pavement, feeling good about the day.

  And that was when he spotted someone lying down by the gate.

  “Dear God,” said Shari. “Who could that be?”

  “I don’t know,” gasped Tom. “I just hope they’re alive,” he pressed down on the accelerator and the Mercedes shot forward. The person was lying in the grass, just to the right of the pavement. There was a brown paper shopping bag next to the body, rumpled and half filled with something. Tom breathed a sigh of relief when the person, whoever it was, began to stir. Tom pulled up and slammed on the brakes. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed, “it’s my mom!”

  “Well, is she okay?”

  “How would I know?” he replied, shifting the SUV into park and practically leaping out before the Mercedes had stopped.

  Doris Picacello’s cheeks were blackened. Fallen tears created tiny clear streaks that ran to her jawline. She was sobbing and trembling. “Tommy,” she groaned, “Tommy, where have you been? I’ve been out in the hot sun all afternoon.”

  “Ma, what are you doing out here? Are you okay?”

  “Let me help you up,” said Shari. “We need to get you into the house. Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

  “How do you think I got here?” asked Doris. “Oh Tommy, it’s terrible. Our house has burned down to the ground. I should be dead right now.”

  “Burned down?” Tom asked, incredulously. “What do you mean it burned down? How did this happen?”

  Doris rubbed her cheeks, smearing black soot all over her hands and face. She didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t really know what happened. I was frying up a couple hamburgers and only sat down for a minute… I must have dozed off in my chair and the next thing I knew, the kitchen was going up in flames… I tried to put it out, really I did. Why weren’t you there to look after me? You know how sleepy I get after I take my pills. It’s just a miracle that I woke up. The Lord was watching out for me, Tommy. That’s what that was.”

  Tom pointed to the rumpled grocery sack. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “Are you telling me that all you were able to salvage from the house is inside this shopping bag?” Doris picked up the bag and clutched it to her chest. Slowly, her head began to bob up and down. Tom also nodded his head. The realization hit him like a brick to the teeth. He wanted to sit down next to his mother and cry, but Picacello men didn’t do such things. He ran his hand through his hair and fought to remain calm. They might not have had much in this world, but what they did have was irreplaceable.

  Shari must have sensed what he was feeling. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “We’ll get through this.”

  The first night was difficult. Tom and Shari coaxed Doris up off of the ground and into the Mercedes. That had taken nearly fifteen minutes. Once they were inside the house, Doris sank into a recliner and resumed her crying. This went on for about an hour. Finally, after trying to pull her new mother in-law out of her misery, Shari excused herself and she went up to bed.

  She walked inside the master bath and silently, she began to pace; Shari’s face was contorted with rage and she flailed her arms in the air. The fire had been no accident, she was sure of it. Doris had burned her own house down, sacrificing every last memento from Tom’s past, just so she could have an excuse to move in with them. The thought of living under the same roof as Doris Picacello caused Shari to shake her head so violently that she actually strained muscles.

  Shari screamed and cursed under her breath, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. This went on for quite some time, but slowly, Shari’s mind quit slipping gears and began to function normally. She had an idea, followed by another. She stopped pacing. Another idea slapped her upside the head and she raised her hands high into the air, as if she had just kicked the game-winning point. That was when she began to laugh. She had found a solution to their problem and she was so giddy that she began to dance. She was about to beat Doris Picacello at her own game and for some odd reason, nothing could have made her happier.

  She didn’t know how long Tom had been standing there, but there he was. He stood with his arms hanging limp at his sides, watching her, a horrified expression on his face. And as if Tom had pulled her power cord from the outlet, Shari stopped dancing and quit laughing. “Hi,” she said. “Um, how long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough,” replied Tom, narrowing his eyes at her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “I don’t know. I was great until we got back home. That was when things started getting weird. Is there something you’d like to tell me? Did you just win the lottery or something?”

  Shari turned to face the mirror, gathering her thoughts, hating herself for not locking the bathroom door.

  “Shari?”

  She turned to face him and desperately tried to put everything in perspective. “Honey,” she began, “I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I’m sorry you and your mom lost your house. I can’t imagine how you must feel, but you need to think logically about this.”

  “Oh, you know me; I’m all about the logic. Live long and prosper.”

  “Stop it. What I’m trying to say is that we can’t have your mom living with us. She doesn’t like me.”

  “That isn’t true, Shari,” said Tom, flatly. “She has never said that.”

  “She called me a cradle robber, Tom.”

  Tom scratched his head and sighed. “Is this going somewhere?” he asked. “Because my mom is downstairs and she’s talking about committing suicide.”

  “I want to rebuild her house. I want to get started on it, first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Tom covered his face with his hands. “That’s fine,” he said, “but do you know how long these things take? A buddy of mine lost his house in a fire. I think it took almost a year for it to get rebuilt. Besides, there will have to be an investigation and then there is all the red tape from the insurance company. Houses don’t get built overnight.”

  “Oh, yes they do.”

  “No, baby, they don’t. That kind of stuff only happens in the movies.”

  “I have a friend who is good friends with Ty Pendleton.”

  “Oh my God, are you kidding me?”

  “His show was cancelled, but maybe he still does that kind of thing? And even if he doesn’t, I’m sure he could put me in touch with people who can.”

  “Shari,” said Tom, stepping into the bathroom and taking Shari by the hips, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but do you have any idea how much something like that would cost?”

  “We can afford it. You know we can.”

  Tom studied Shari’s face and she met his gaze, locking her eyes on his. A smile curled the corners of Tom’s mouth. He didn’t want his mother living with them, not for a month, not for even a week. He loved his mom, but he knew his wife was right, she didn’t like Shari and she would end up making them both miserable. Tom began to laugh and he did a little jig. Shari began to shimmy and she pumped her fists into the air.

  “Jesus, take me now!” bellowed Doris, who was now standing at the foot of the bed. “What in the hell is going on up here?”

  Tom, knowing how hurt his mother would have been by knowing the truth, quickly came up
with a story about a mythical friend who had made a miraculous recovery. Doris seemed to buy the story, but for the rest of the night, she looked at her son from out of the corner of her eye.

  They were up early the next morning and Tom and Doris were on the road by 8:00. There were statements to give and things to pick up and Doris wanted to stop by the cemetery and visit Tom’s father. Shari couldn’t usher them out the door fast enough. She gave Tom her credit card and PIN number and sent them off in the Mercedes. What she didn’t hear was her mother in-law’s comment about the big house, as she and Tom drove past it. “That house is you,” Doris had said. “I think you and Shari will be happy there.”

  Tom had not replied to the comment. But he did wonder about what was inside the brick mansion. In fact, he found himself thinking about that more with each passing day.

  Shari waited until the security system told her that the gate was closed. She then sat down with her laptop and put her reporter skills to work. She didn’t actually know that she shared a friend with Ty Pendleton, but she did know an awful lot of people, so technically, it hadn’t been a lie. She began by looking him up and she discovered that his real name was actually Tygert. “That’s an odd name,” she whispered to herself. “No wonder he goes by Ty.”

  She dug and dug and dug, finding nothing but dead-ends when it came to finding a contact number. She began placing phone calls to her friends on the West Coast at 10:00, but once again, she came up with nothing. Finally, with nothing else to lose, she resorted to calling an old friend of her father’s. Kip Muller and her dad had gone to school together. Muller was an attorney who represented B-list actors, but had made the mistake of coming on to Shari the day after her parent’s funeral. Shari hadn’t spoken to him since.

  “Shari,” purred the attorney from his home in Burbank, “it’s so good to hear your voice. How the hell are you, kiddo?”