by F J messina
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I guess the wind is just making my eyes water. That’s all.”
“I don’t think so.” He gently brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Tell me, babe. Is it because I have to go up north?”
“No. That’s fine.” Sonia brushed that wisp of hair out of her face. “I understand. It was last minute after all. I can’t expect you to just drop everything and change your plans for me.” She stood still, looking at him. Why? Why can’t I be more honest with him? Why am I holding back what I really want to say?
“Babe, this is business. I told you. I’d love to go meet your folks.” He was holding her hands now. “And I would gladly drop everything and change my plans if I could. But this is work. I just have to go help this guy.”
“I understand. I really do.” There was silence between them for a few moments, then Sonia slipped her hands out of his. “Maybe we can just go home now. Would that be alright with you? I’m kind of tired, and I know you have to get up early in the morning if you’re going to make that 6:00 AM flight.”
“Are you sure?” Brad put his hands on her shoulders. “At least let me come in for a little while and just be with you.”
“No. You need your time to get ready for your trip.” She forced a smile to appear on her face. “Just take me home and drop me off. We can talk on the phone tomorrow if you’d like.”
They were both silent again as they walked back to Brad’s car. When they got to her place, she leaned over and gave Brad a kiss. It was nice, but the passion that usually accompanied their kissing was definitely missing. As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, Sonia knew that Brad would be wondering why she’d had such a dramatic response to his being unable to join her on the trip to her parents. She shook her head. He must think I’m crazy. I get it. He has to work. But seeing that wedding party standing on the steps of the church . . . . Is there a bride who’s going to be standing at the front of that church tomorrow wondering why the man she’s about to give her life to hasn’t shown up? Will she cry into her father’s chest, with her knees shaking, unable to breathe? Will her whole world come tumbling down around her? Will she feel betrayed? Will she feel worthless? Will she feel like I felt when John Eckel left me at the altar?
By then Sonia was in her apartment, lying on her bed, still dressed in all her clothing, including her light spring jacket. The tears had been squelched. The pain had not.
14
Sonia awakened on Saturday, the taste of disappointment still in her mouth. She sat at her tiny kitchen table drinking coffee and thinking. It’s okay. It’s work. I get that. Still, if he’d just pushed the flight back a few hours I could have dropped him off at the airport in Cincinnati and he would have at least been able to meet my family. I would have been glad to go pick him up when he got back.
She sighed, trying to accept the situation but unable to separate the current episode from past disappointments. She stood up, pushing back her chair. “That’s just how it goes. I’ll just get myself up there and enjoy my family without him. I don’t need him for that.”
Around one o’clock, Sonia got herself together and drove north on I-75, to Cincinnati. When she arrived at her parent’s home, a small, two-story brick building almost identical to the ones on its left and right, thoughts of Brad not being with her were supplanted by a warm sense of being home. She parked on the street and walked up the few concrete steps to the front porch. In no time, it was hugs, kisses and smiles. Sonia enjoyed it all, even bending down to kiss her elderly Italian great-aunt, who stood only four-foot, ten inches tall. Her perfume smelled like something from Walgreens and her breath smelled heavily of garlic.
When they all sat down to an early dinner, Sonia was surprised at how much the meal she was about to eat was lifting her spirits. It was the classic Italian meal she’d enjoyed so many Sundays on visits to her grandmother’s home. It started with antipasto, the appetizers before the pasto, before the meal. There were olives, anchovies, sliced sausage, peppers, artichoke hearts; it was the real deal. Then came the lasagna, which for most Americans would have been the main dish. But not at this meal. After the pasta dish came the chicken with cooked carrots. The meal ended with cold cheeses, fruit and, finally, Italian pastries. Throughout the dinner, the room was filled with laughter and rendition after rendition of “salute” and “alla famiglia,” as everyone drank ample amounts of wine and teased each other about who would be the first one asleep in an armchair after the meal.
The evening was warm, and after dinner, Sonia wandered back out onto the front porch and sat in the swinging love seat. It wasn’t long before she was joined by her sister, Teresa, who sat on the love seat with her. Her two brothers, Tony, who sat in a wicker chair, and Jimmy, who perched half-on, half-off the porch railing, were there as well.
Teresa was younger than Sonia, twenty-two. Everyone called her Tee. At five-feet eight, her dark-eyed Italian looks and shapely body were even more striking than Sonia’s. Whereas Sonia used a small arsenal of styling products to keep her hair professional-looking, Tee’s hair was wild and flowing, often hanging in her face in the style of some pouty rock star. She wore a flouncy bohemian top, dyed with a strange mix of dark reds and bright greens that somehow worked well together. Along with her very short suede skirt and “too-early-for-the-season” sandals, her look boldly communicated her artsy view of life and the world.
Tony was the oldest of the Vitale kids at thirty-four and Jimmy the baby of the family at twenty. They were both dark-haired, good-looking men, and clearly brothers. Tony carried himself like the man he was─tall, muscular, with a constant five o’clock shadow on his broad face. His smile came quickly, though it was always restrained, under control.
Jimmy seemed more like a boy in a man’s body. Also tall, his white sleeveless tee shirt revealed his thin, angular frame. More attractive than his older brother, with Sonia’s dark chocolate eyes and a warm smile, his boyish look couldn’t hide the fact that his slender body was taut, powerful. Sonia had long thought that the young women in their neighborhood considered him quite the “Italian Stallion.”
Tee started. “We’re so sorry that Brad wasn’t able to join us today. It would have been great to meet him.”
“Yeah. Like I said, he was called away at the last minute.” Sonia’s smile was tight.
Jimmy gave her a teasing grin. “You sure he just didn’t want to come and spend time with a bunch of wine-swilling Eye-talians?”
“No, no. He’s not like that.” Sonia felt her spine stiffen. “He’s a great guy. He really did want to come. I just popped it on him at the last minute, and at the same time he was being asked to go help a client in Boston.”
Tony, the only one still drinking wine, finished his glass. He spoke, holding the empty glass up to the fading sunlight. “Boston? Now there’s a great city for Italians. Go up to the north end on Wednesdays and everybody’s eating the same thing for dinner.”
Tee gave him a strange look. “What do you mean?” She was twirling her hair around her finger in front of her right cheek.
“Wednesday, in Boston. It’s Prince Spaghetti Day. Been that way for years. Radio, billboards, the TV ad with the kid running home for dinner because it’s Wednesday. Got to be close to fifty years of that. In Boston, Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day.”
Tee shrugged her shoulders. “Oh.” She turned back to Sonia. “Does he go up there often?”
Although Sonia knew that going away to help clients had been, and always would be, part of Brad’s professional life, she was still struggling with the fact that he hadn’t been able to make an exception to see her family. “No. Not to Boston. But he does know people all over the country, and I guess it’s not unusual for him to get a call to go almost anywhere to work.”
Jimmy spun around, sitting squarely on the railing, his feet easily touching the porch’s weathered wooden floor. “Must be cool, flying all over the country doing private investigation stuff. Stuff like you do, right, Sonia?�
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“Oh yeah,” Sonia smirked, “I’m a real hot shot, driving around in Brad’s new Corvette.”
Jimmy’s expression lit up. “He drives a ‘Vette? New?”
“Uh huh.”
“Cool. What’d he drive before he got the ‘Vette?”
“A different ‘Vette.” Sonia’s voice lacked the enthusiasm she knew Jimmy was expecting, but she enjoyed stringing her baby brother along.
Jimmy’s voice, on the other hand, matched the expression on his face. “So, why’d he get a new one? Did he wear the other one out?”
“In a manner of speaking. I guess you could say he drove it ‘til he couldn’t drive it anymore.” Visions of that car, torn to pieces by bullets, slipped through her mind.
Tony and Tee had remained silent through the brief interchange, but Sonia could sense that Tee wanted to say something. She adjusted herself on the swing. “Why don’t you two big, handsome Italian men go and see if our father is making some espresso for us. Give your sisters a little alone time.”
The brothers stood. “Come on, Jimmy.” Tony gently slapped his brother’s arm with the back of his hand. “I can tell when we’ve been given our walking papers. Let’s go see what Pop has cooking. You ladies enjoy the warm breeze.”
After the brothers left, Sonia said, “Go ahead, ask.”
Tee gave her a “What, me?” look. “Ask what?”
“Whatever it is that you’ve been wanting to ask all day. I could see it in your face every time we had a half-a-second alone together.”
Tee was quiet for a moment. Finally, she began. “I was just wondering about you and Brad. You seemed so excited about the idea of him coming, and then he couldn’t make it.” She squinted. “Or did he choose not to make it?” Her expression was filled with genuine concern. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with you guys?”
“Sure, sure. Things are fine. They’re great, really.”
Tee turned and looked directly at Sonia. “Not according to what I’m seeing. Come on, Sonia. I’m your sister. Talk to me.”
“Look, honey.” Sonia took a long breath then tried to sound upbeat. “Things really are great between us. We’re happy. We’ve even worked out a good plan for being kind of partners in our work, while still keeping our own businesses. It’s just that this was a special opportunity for him to meet everyone and I’m disappointed that it didn’t work out.”
“For real. You really are okay?” Her fingers were twirling in her hair again.
“Tutto sta bene. Everything’s fine.” Sonia needed to change the subject. “What about you? What’s going on in your life?”
“Well, the semester is ending. Soon I’ll be a college graduate just like my older brother and sister.” Tee absently watched a car full of young men drive past their house, loud music thumping from the car’s stereo. “Now, if only there was something a studio art major could do for a living. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
Sonia took her hand. “Honey, you’re so good. Your paintings, your sculpture. Surely you should be able to sell your work.”
“Yeah.” Tee slipped her hand free and pushed her hair back gently, looking at the empty street. “Once in a while. But I’ve got to find a way to make some steady money. The only thing I’m doing now that brings in any kind of regular money is singing with Ralphie and the guys. And that’s just weekend gigs.” Her hand went back to her hair.
Sonia tried to sound encouraging. “What’s the name of your group again?”
“The Displaced Souls.” She chuckled. “It’s kind of a retro sixties name. But then again,” she shrugged, “that’s pretty much what we play, retro sixties. You know, Stones, Animals, Joplin.” She gave Sonia a quick look. “Janis, not Scott.”
Sonia took Tee’s hand again and squeezed. “Don’t worry, honey, it’ll all work out. You’ll find your way. You’re beautiful and talented. Something’ll come along. Trust me, I wish I had your talents, your gifts. You’re going to be just fine.” She let go of Tee’s hand and tapped her gently on her bare knee. “Now let’s go and see if the men in this family have figured out how to make us a decent cup of espresso.”
15
Sonia had stayed in Cincinnati through Monday morning. On her way back to Lexington, she’d received a text from Jet. It had the phone numbers Jet had been able to find for several of the students Professor Andersen had identified as friends of Mariana. As she drove, Sonia had made a few calls. They’d all remembered Mariana and spoke kindly of her. None of them, however, had any idea of where she might be.
Punctually at 10:00 on Tuesday morning, the door to the BCI offices opened and Burnett Saunders walked in. It being a rainy day, and he being him, they were not surprised that he was wearing a slightly oversized suit meticulously protected by his oversized umbrella.
Sonia and Jet were both sitting in folding chairs next to the temporary work table they’d set up again in the waiting area of their offices. Coffee and pastries sat at the end of the table. Though she wasn’t quite sure why, Sonia stood as he entered.
Jet stood as well and was the first to speak. “Good morning Mr. Saunders. How are you today?”
“I’m fine, and please feel free to refer to me as Burnett.”
Sonia’s eyes darted quickly to Jet and back. Strange, last week it was, “Mr. Saunders will do.”
Jet motioned to a chair across from where she and Sonia were seated. “Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee or something to eat?”
“No, thank you. Never eat unless you’re hungry.”
Sonia barely suppressed a smile. “Oh, yes. I remember now. Well then, can we get started? We’ve been eagerly awaiting Tuesday morning and your report.”
“Certainly, certainly.” He took a seat. “Now then.” His hand went absently to his bowtie. “I downloaded your information to my computer and worked on it at my office.”
“I know,” Jet said. “You do your best work in your own space.”
Sonia shot her a stern, “Don’t tease the poor guy,” look. Jet just smiled.
“It really didn’t take me long to discover what young Mr. Oakley was doing at Mr. Brownlee’s firm. It’s really quite distasteful . . . and, I might add, quite dishonest. I’m really not surprised, because─”
“Yes,” Jet interrupted, “the darkness of the human soul and so on.”
“Yes, yes, precisely.”
Sonia leaned closer to him. “Can you tell us exactly what he’s doing?”
Burnett Saunders sat back in his chair, tugged on his jacket lapels with both hands, and once again straightened his bowtie. “Well, certainly. But first, you need to be fully informed as to exactly how the purchasing process must proceed in an effectively run organization.”
Jet’s words suddenly had a strong hint of a southern accent. “Well, inform away, professor.” Once again, Sonia shot Jet a disapproving look; this time, however, she was having trouble not giggling herself.
“Of course.” He tugged on his lapels. “Now, in an effectively run organization, the purchasing process must proceed as follows. First, someone in authority makes a request that a certain item or items be purchased, either for use or for resale. The request must be in writing. Then, someone with higher authority must sign off on that request by creating a PO, or purchase order. That PO, or purchase order, must then be signed by someone with ultimate purchasing authority before copies are filed and that document is sent to a vendor.”
He barely took a breath before continuing. “Now, upon the vendor’s delivery of the item or items deemed appropriate for purchase, there must be a receipt of delivery form filled out. Some people refer to that as a ROD form. I, however, do not, since that terminology is not currently accepted by the Financial Accounting Standards Board, the organization officially recognized by the Securities and Exchange Commission as the governing body for the accounting profession.”
This time it was Jet who shot Sonia a not-so-subtle look of disbelief.
Saunders was oblivious. “Non
etheless, when the item or items are delivered, someone must sign off on the appropriate form to indicate that the item or items have been received. The next step in the process occurs when that form is given to someone with the authority to pay outstanding debits, sometimes a treasurer, or even a bursar. That person is then responsible to check incoming invoices against the forms indicating receipt of delivery. At that point, the organization knows, or should know, that the item or items in question have been received and that the invoice requesting payment for such items is, in fact, valid.”
Sonia began gently biting her own tongue. It was the only way she could keep from breaking out in laughter as she watched Burnett Saunders reveling in his own knowledge of the intricacies of an appropriate purchasing process at an effectively run organization.
He took a moment to straighten his tie. “Now, the next step in the process occurs when the person with the authority to pay incoming invoices has duly checked both the purchase order and the receipt of delivery, reconciling them with the incoming invoice, and generated a check to the vendor that proffered said invoice. Oftentimes, the process ends when the person with the highest financial authority, perhaps the CEO or CFO, then examines all the documents involved in the process and signs off on the payment. He or she usually, then, allows an underling to actually send said payment to the vendor who proffered the invoice for the item or items that were delivered to the organization, in response to the purchase order generated by the organization, in order to fulfill the request made by someone in the organization for the item or items, so that they might be used or resold.”
Sonia and Jet were silent.
After a moment or two, Burnett Saunders cleared his throat. “Are there any questions?”
Jet’s voice reflected her frustration. “So, what in blue blazes is Michael Oakley up to?”
Sonia shot Jet yet another look, then turned to Saunders and spoke gently. “What she means is that we still don’t understand how Oakley is ripping off Mr. Brownlee.”
