The Minnesota Candidate

by Nicholas Antinozzi

“I’ll do what I can to help you get on your feet. How come you’re not working?”

  “Are you kidding me? These people take one look at my background and my application is in the trash can. I want to work, I really do. I just can’t catch a break.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about that. Do you have any skills?”

  “You’re darn right. I can build anything out of wood. I can build cabinets, houses, shoe boxes, you name it. Why, they even let me teach some classes while I was locked up. That’s how good I am. I want to work with wood, Tommy. That’s my dream.”

  Tom could see that Sam was getting misty-eyed and he walked over to inspect his mother’s new dining room table. He thought about what Sam had said and he felt his own eyes growing wet. He wasn’t asking for much, only a chance. Tom knew he would have to repeat their conversation to Shari, but he was almost certain that she would share his thoughts on the situation. “Tomorrow,” said Tom, “we’ll drive out and pick up your things. Then I’ll take you out and we’ll get you some tools and a good pair of boots. All I want in return is your word. Once we find you a job, you have to do the rest.”

  Sam nodded his head and covered his face. He then began to sob. The biggest and arguably, the toughest, member of the entire family stood in the garage and cried his eyes out. “I been praying for this,” he finally managed. “I know it was God that brought me here.”

  “I been praying for this,” mimicked one of the movers, a huge, college-aged red-headed man in blue coveralls. He and another man were just setting down a flowered sofa, a hideous thing in Tom’s opinion.

  Sam wiped his eyes and marched over to where the big man stood. “What did you say?” he asked.

  “Sam,” warned Tom, “you can’t do this.”

  “Do what? I haven’t done a thing. This kid here stuck his nose into our private conversation. All I did was ask him what he said.”

  “Red,” warned the smaller of the two furniture movers, “just let it go. We don’t need any trouble.”

  The big kid smiled and gave Sam an insolent look. “I said I been praying for this, that’s all. I just thought it was funny.”

  “Yeah, what’s so funny about that?”

  “Sorry, but you don’t look like the praying type. Come on, Randy, let’s get out of here.”

  Randy was already standing in front of Tom with his paperwork. Tom was busy initialing the delivery receipt, while trying to keep one eye on Sam and the big kid.

  “You must think you’re pretty tough,” said Sam, staring up at the kid named Red, who Tom thought was nearly seven feet tall.

  “I don’t think I’m tough,” said the kid. “I know I’m tough. I play for the Gophers.”

  “He’s a starter,” said Randy, nodding his head. “Red plays on the defensive line.”

  “Yeah,” said Sam. “We’ll I’ll bet you twenty bucks that I can beat him in arm wrestling. What do you say, tough-guy?”

  “Twenty bucks?” asked Red. “I don’t want to steal your money. Come on Randy, let’s go before I break his arm.”

  “A hundred bucks,” said Sam.

  The beefy redhead stopped and stared at his coworker. “Do you have a hundred bucks on you?” he asked. “Not that I’m going to need it.”

  “Yeah,” said Randy, “I got it.”

  Tom wanted to step in, but before he knew what was going on, Sam and Red were shaking hands on the bet and moving over to his mother’s new dining room table. “You break it,” Tom said, “you bought it.”

  Both men nodded. Tom watched as they squared off and locked hands. Sam was giving up several inches in reach to the young giant and Tom was worried. He didn’t have a hundred dollars cash and he was nearly positive that Sam didn’t. He watched as Randy walked over to start them. The other movers began to crowd around the table. He quickly decided that this wasn’t the first time that Randy and Red had pulled this stunt. Both men seemed well-scripted in their parts. “Ready?” asked Randy. After both men nodded, Randy released his grip and shouted: “Go!”

  A split-second later, Red’s right knuckles rapped hard against the oak surface of the table. “Ouch!” he cried.

  Tom thought he heard bones crunching when the two men tried their left hands. The result was the same. Red nearly ran out of the garage, holding his bruised hands to his chest. When Randy tried to turn and do the same thing, Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not so fast, buddy,” he said. “Cough it up.”

  Later that evening, Sam retold the story half a dozen times. He even offered to pay for their takeout with his winnings, but Shari wouldn’t hear of it. Not long after dinner, Shari announced that she was going to turn in early. Privately, she confessed to Tom that she wasn’t feeling well and thought it was something she had eaten.

  Tom sat up with his mother and they sipped wine as Sam spun tales of his years behind bars. The man was a gifted storyteller, so much so, that Doris sat spellbound and only rarely interrupted him. This had surprised Tom, for he was used to his mom interjecting herself into any conversation at the slightest pause.

  After a while, they began to share family stories and Tom found himself sitting on the edge of his chair, hanging on every word. When Sam spoke of Vince, he did so with great reverence. When Doris tried to add sarcasm and wisecracks to these stories of Tom’s father, Sam would glare at her. The message wasn’t lost on her and she quickly changed her tune. Tom was happy for this. His mother had grown increasingly bitter over the years and she directed much of that bitterness toward her dead husband. She sometimes spoke of him as if he had abandoned them, which angered Tom. His father had dropped dead of a heart attack, on the job, trying to give them a better life. He hadn’t vanished into thin air after going out for a pack of cigarettes.

  Tom had known that the Calizzi’s and the Picacello’s shared a long family history, one that went all the way back to the Old Country, but he hadn’t known how close Sam and his father had been before he and his mother had gotten married. To listen to Sam, the two had been as close as brothers. Tom wondered about that. His dad had rarely spoken of Sam. On those occasions when Sam was out of prison and they saw him at family functions, his father had seemed to do all he could to avoid Sam. Looking back, Tom supposed that his dad did so to protect him. He didn’t want Tom following the same path that Sam had taken. Now, looking back, Tom could see that it had been more than that. His father had been terribly disappointed in Sam. He had been given plenty of second chances and he had blown them all. Would he do it again? Tom didn’t know, but he would see that Sam got one more chance. He thought it was the least he could do.

  He put Sam up in the bedroom next to his mother’s and at 10:00 he excused himself to bed. Sam and his mother were still sitting in the living room, reliving the past, laughing at long-forgotten memories. And everything seemed right in the world.

  Chapter 5

  Tom and Shari were up early the next morning. Shari announced that she was feeling much better and the two of them took their coffee down to the lake. The sun was just topping the trees and the air was warm with just a touch of humidity. The lake was perfectly calm and loons called each other from across the bay. Wearing robes over their pajamas, they discussed their plans for the day.

  “I have to run down to the office,” said Shari. “I’m going to do that after I shower.”

  “I thought you were on vacation?” asked Tom.

  “I am, but I have a story idea that I want to run past my editor. I’ll be in and out of there in half an hour.”

  “Story idea?”

  “Yes, and if you’re thinking that I want to write about building your mom this house, you would be absolutely correct. This is a feel good story, baby. My readers will eat this up. I want to get approval so I don’t do a lot of writing for nothing.”

  Tom shrugged his shoulders and sipped his coffee. “I don’t know,” he said, “I’m not sure how my mom will feel about that. She’s a very private person.”

  Shari took a step back and gave Tom
a hard look. “You’re kidding, right? We’re building your mother a house, Tom. We’re doing something for her that she could never do for herself. She had better be grateful.”

  “Shouldn’t we tell her, first? Maybe we should let her warm up to the idea.”

  “No, we’re not telling her a thing. I was talking to Chona and we decided that it would be better to just surprise your mom with the house, just like they used to do on television. She wants to hire a film crew.”

  Tom tried to take the news in stride, but he found that he couldn’t do that. “I don’t think surprising my mom in front of a film crew is a good idea. You don’t know her like I do. This whole thing could backfire on us.”

  “Well, we’re just going to have to take that chance. I won’t discuss it any further. I see the way she looks at our house. Your mom thinks we’re going to move into my parent’s house, doesn’t she? She thinks that we’re going to give her our home. Tom, I hate to say it, but that isn’t happening.”

  Tom felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Shari was spot on in her assessment, even though he had said nothing to her about what his mother had said. “She has dropped some hints to that effect,” he confessed. “I never encouraged her.”

  “I want us to have our own life, baby,” said Shari, stepping close and leaning in to give Tom a soft kiss. “And I’m not being selfish. You know that, right?”

  Tom stood with his back to the lake. Behind Shari stood the brick mansion and he nodded to it. “Am I ever going to get inside that place?” he asked.

  “I told you that I haven’t been in there since my parents died. I’m sorry, Tom, but I don’t know that I can go back in there.”

  “So, no one has been in there since your parents passed away?”

  Shari shook her head. “No one goes into that house. Not me, not you, and certainly not your mom.”

  “That’s just weird.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Tom. Please, I’m begging you. I have my reasons and you need to trust me.”

  Tom could see that the conversation was going nowhere and he nodded his head. “You can’t blame me for being curious. I want you to think about it. Will you do that?”

  “I will, but I’m not making any promises. I will say this much: that place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. There are alarms for the alarms and the police would be here in two minutes if any of them are tripped. I would be extremely disappointed in you if you tried going in there without my approval. I hope that doesn’t sound mean, it’s just the way it is.”

  Again, Tom nodded his head, but he couldn’t help but think that his new wife had a screw loose. They kissed and walked back inside for more coffee. An hour later, showered and dressed, Shari was in her red BMW 760 and driving to work.

  Sam was up at 8:00 and he joined Tom in the kitchen. “Boy,” he said, rubbing his back, “I don’t think I’ve ever slept in such a comfortable bed. They ain’t got racks like that in the joint, I can tell ya that.”

  Tom smiled and poured Sam a cup of coffee. “Sugar or cream?” he asked.

  Sam shook his head. “No, I take it black. Thank you.”

  Tom poured them each a cup of coffee and the two men sat on barstools at the counter. “I’ve got an idea that I want to run by you,” said Tom, “I’ve got a job for you, but you have to promise me that you won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes at Tom. “Let me guess,” he said, “it’s a sure thing and we’ll never get caught. Well, I ain’t interested. I’m a changed man and I ain’t ever goin’ back to prison.”

  Tom held his hands up. “No, no, no,” he said, “this isn’t like that. This is a legit job, building a house for my ma.”

  Sam smiled and slapped Tom on the back. “Fat Tommy, don’t look so serious. I was just yankin’ your chain. You’re just like your old man used to be, always so serious. Yeah, I’d love to work on your mom’s house, but I need something sooner than that. Rebuilding a burned down house takes time. Those things don’t happen overnight.”

  Tom got up and checked the hallway and then he returned to his stool. “Sometimes they do,” he whispered. He then went on and explained their plan to Sam. And even though he had never seen a single episode of the television program, Sam had heard of it. Tom’s idea was to toss Sam in as part of the contract with the builder. After that, it would be up to Sam to prove himself.

  “You know somethin’?” asked Sam as he dabbed at his eyes. “I meant that yesterday about God telling me to come out here. He told me that if I did that everything would fall into place. I know that probably sounds corny, but it’s the truth. I don’t want nuttin’ from nobody, all I want is a chance. You get me in there and I’ll be the hardest worker they ever saw.”

  Tom smiled and sipped his coffee. “I know you will,” he said. “Just remember, Ma doesn’t know a thing. You’ve got to keep this to yourself.”

  “Fat Tommy, my lips are sealed. I may be a lot of things, but I ain’t no rat.”

  “After Ma gets up, I’m going to take you into town and we’ll get you some things. I already talked to Shari about it.”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll pay you back. You know I’m good for it.”

  “I know you are.”

  Sam got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. Then it was his turn to walk over to the hallway and make sure the coast was clear. He returned to his barstool and leaned close to Tom. “Now,” he whispered, “it’s my turn. I need you to swear on your old man’s grave that you’ll never repeat this.”

  Tom sat back and wondered what Sam was about to tell him. “I’m not a rat, either,” he whispered. “I swear I won’t.”

  “Good, I know you’re a man of your word. Look, what I’m about to tell you isn’t going to be easy to hear. Your ma… she’s a little crazy. You know that, right?”

  Tom did know that, he had always known that, but he didn’t know that anyone else knew. Slowly, he nodded his head. “Yeah,” he whispered, “where is this going?”

  “Just hear me out. I need to tell you somethin’ that your old man would have told you, had he lived long enough. Fat Tommy, Italian men always marry crazy women. Nobody knows why, but I swear on my dear mother’s grave that it’s the truth. We’re like magnets. We go together like spaghetti and meatballs. Why do you think I ain’t ever got married?”

  Tom thought about that and it slowly sunk in. He didn’t know about other Italian families, but Sam’s theory certainly rang true inside his own. And while some of the Picacello women were just a little strange, others had no business being outside of a state hospital. “I see your point,” he whispered, “but why are you telling me this? Shari isn’t crazy, not even a little bit. She’s just great.”

  Sam nodded his head and gave Tom a hard look. “I didn’t say they were crazy right away. I think we drive them there.”

  “That doesn’t say much about us, does it?”

  “Nope, it sure don’t. Look, I’m only telling you this as a pro face. Know what I mean?”

  “Do you mean a preface, something to get the ball rolling?”

  “Yeah, a preface, that’s the word I was looking for. Fat Tommy, I hate to tell you this, but your mom is nuts. Now, before you go getting all defensive about that, let me tell you about what happened last night.”

  Tom held up his hand and walked back to the hallway. He poked his head around the corner and took a deep breath. Whatever Sam was about to tell him, Tom was sure that he did not want to hear it. Uneasily, he sat back down at the counter. “Go ahead,” he whispered.

  “Your mom wants this house.”

  “Yeah, I know she does.”

  “And she wants you and Shari to live over in that great big house. I’m guessing that you know that, too?”

  Tom nodded. “That’s why we’re rebuilding her house as soon as we possibly can.”

  “I figured as much. Well, here’s something else for you to chew on: your ma is dying to see what’s inside that other place. She aske
d me to help her get in there. She also told me that you ain’t ever been in there. Is that true?”

  Again, Tom nodded his head.

  “Ya see,” softly whispered Sam, “Fat Tommy, that’s kind of nuts, if ya ask me. What is she hidin’ over there?”

  The question hit Tom hard, but not as hard as the truth. Sam was right, it was kind of nuts that his new wife would not allow him inside a home that belonged to her; which legally, he now co-owned by marriage. “I don’t know,” he said, honestly. “She says that she hasn’t been inside the house since her parents died.”

  Sam got up and walked to the hallway. He then motioned for Tom to join him in the living room. He waited for Tom by the fireplace. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I found somethin’ that you might be interested in. I’m guessin’ these two houses were built back in the twenties. Whoever built them, they was loaded. Anyhow, last night when your ma asked me to help her get inside that other house, I told her no way. I know she got mad about that, but I stood my ground. So, she gets up and starts stomping around and then she goes into the bathroom. There I was, just sitting here and I got to thinkin’. Sam, I said to myself, there has to be a way in there from over here.”

  “What, do you think there’s a secret passageway?”

  Sam smiled. “I know there’s a secret passageway,” he whispered, “and you’re lookin’ right at it.”

  Tom felt his eyes grow wide. He quickly stepped back to the hallway and made sure his mom was still in bed. He then returned to Sam, his heart drumming with excitement. He examined the fireplace and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t see it,” he whispered.

  Sam walked over to the towering bookcase on the right side of the fireplace. He then grabbed hold of the ladder and he pulled it all the way to the end of its track, as far away from the fireplace as possible. He returned to the where the oak bookcase met the fireplace stone and he crouched down and stuck his hand into a small crevice. “The latch is down here,” he whispered. There was a clicking sound and the bookcase began to slowly swing open. “Pretty nifty, huh?”