“Actually, I was mostly annoyed, because I had to cut my workout short,” he jested, giving her a sideways glance.
“Nice,” huffed Francesca, folding her arms.
“I was just wondering about something, though,” Joey went on. “Not that I minded, really, but how come you called me?”
“Who else on earth was I supposed to call to take me home?”
“I dunno,” shrugged Joey. “I mean, obviously you’ve been trying to keep all this a secret. Couldn’t her husband or somebody else give you a ride?”
“Did you see a wedding ring on her finger?” snipped Francesca.
Joey did not answer right away, but continued to look straight ahead. After a time, his expression brightened ever so slightly. “No,” he said thoughtfully at last. “Now that you say it, I didn’t.”
“That’s because she’s not married,” Francesca told him. “So, what was I supposed to do? Make that poor girl drag her two kids out on a winter’s night and drive them all across town just to take me home?”
“Nope,” said Joey with a shake of his head. “I guess you did the sensible thing.”
Frustrated by her son’s refusal to take the bait, Francesca sat back and sulked in silence for a while. She had known all along, of course, that it was simply a matter of time before Joey and his sisters caught on to her. That being the case, she had spent considerable hours imagining different scenarios of how the dramatic confrontation would play out, anticipating the cries of concern from Rosie and Alice, and preparing ready responses to their inevitable questions. Now that the moment had come, the first engagement of the grand battle she had envisioned had fizzled without a shot being fired, and she felt strangely let down, like a boxer whose opponent has forfeited the match just before the bell for the first round was about to ring.
Joey drove up to a red light and brought the car to a stop. Francesca stared out the window at the familiar surroundings. Just then, something about the place jogged her memory, and she sat there wondering what it might be. Finally it came to Francesca. This was the very same intersection at which she had stalled Leo’s car that day long ago, when he had first tried to teach her how to drive. The recollection, despite the present circumstances, brought the hint of a smile to her face. The light turned green, and Joey drove on.
“So, why did you do it?” he said at last, breaking the silence.
“I told you,” answered Francesca. “I didn’t have anyone else to call.”
“No, not that,” said Joey with a little laugh. “What I meant is, how come you started babysitting for them? Is something wrong? Do you need money?”
“No, of course not,” sighed Francesca, the fight having gone out of her. “It’s just something I felt like I needed to do. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it some other time, but not tonight. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” nodded Joey. “Whatever you say. I’ll just go back there tomorrow and see what I can do about the car.”
“Good,” said Francesca. Then, climbing back up onto her high horse for just one more moment, she added, “And make sure you wear some decent clothes when you do. I don’t want you to embarrass me again. I meant what I said back there.”
“Huh?”
“That ratty old sweatshirt. Get rid of it. You look like a zuzzuzz’.”
Joey smiled and kept his eyes focused straight ahead.
“Thanks,” he told her, “but I like this old sweatshirt just fine.”
CHAPTER 43
Loretta was upstairs, watching from her bedroom window, when, true to his word, Joey returned to the house the next morning. Despite it being a Saturday, in a vacation week no less, she had sprung out of bed and dressed quite early so as not to miss him when he arrived. Now that he had, she stood there, nervously drumming her fingers against her chin, quite unable to make up her mind as to what she should do next. The children were still abed sleeping, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before they awoke and dominated the day’s proceedings. Finally, tiptoeing past their bedroom doors, she hurried downstairs to the living room window and nudged the curtain aside, to hazard a peek at what was happening out front.
It was a raw morning outdoors. The crystal blue sky of the previous day had been replaced by a shroud of heavy, slate gray clouds, and a thin, miserable drizzle hung in the air. Wasting no time, Joey went straight to his mother’s car, pausing only briefly to cast a questioning glance at the house before climbing inside to try the ignition. Having no luck, he climbed back out, opened the front hood, and gazed in at the engine, his breath coming out in little white puffs as he assessed the situation. After a moment’s consideration, he leaned over and reached inside to fiddle with some part of the motor hidden from Loretta’s view. Not that it mattered much to her what it might be, for she had only the vaguest notion of what went on beneath the hood of a car. Just the same, she watched with keen interest.
After a time, Joey straightened back up and walked to his own car, where he opened the trunk and pulled out a toolbox. He returned to his mother’s car and, with a wrench in hand, was soon at work once more on the engine. Just then, as he was making whatever adjustments he had decided were necessary, the light drizzle that had been falling all morning suddenly turned into a steady rain and, before long, into an outright downpour.
Loretta rushed to the hallway and threw open the front door.
“Hey!” she called to him. “Come inside quick, before you get drowned out there!”
At seeing her at the door, Joey’s face lit up in a warm smile despite the cold rain beating down on his head. He looked up in annoyance at the skies and gave a shrug of resignation before quickly closing the hood of the car and running up onto the porch. With drops of rainwater dripping off his forehead and shoulders, he stopped at the threshold, looking unsure as to whether or not he should enter.
“Come in, come in,” Loretta insisted, tugging the sleeve of his sweatshirt, the same tattered gray thing he had been wearing the night before.
“Yeow, it’s unreal out there,” said Joey, stepping into the dry warmth of the hallway, where he shook some of the raindrops from his head. “Were they predicting this for today?”
“Who knows?” said Loretta. “I don’t even listen to the weather report anymore. From the looks of it, though, I’d say it’s going to keep coming down like this for a while.”
“Yeah,” agreed Joey, glancing back out the door. “I think you might be right.” He scratched the back of his neck and made a pained expression. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to work on my mother’s car anymore today,” he confessed.
Loretta looked up into his eyes, trying her best to project outward calm, even though her heart was galloping a mile a minute inside her chest. She was turning things over in her mind, desperately trying to think of a way to entice him to stay for just a little while.
“Do you think you can fix it?” she finally asked, not knowing what else to say.
“I don’t know. Maybe,” he answered. “I mean, I think I should at least be able to get it started.”
“It sounds like you’re good with cars,” she said, beaming a smile at him.
“I know a little bit,” said Joey modestly. “My father had his own shop for a long time, so I learned a lot from him.”
It seemed neither of the two knew what to say next, and a pronounced silence ensued, despite the fact that the two never took their eyes off one another.
“Listen,” Joey said at last in a timid voice. “I was just wondering—”
“Yes?” said Loretta expectantly.
“Um, would you mind if I left the car here one more day?”
“The car?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “I was thinking I’d come back tomorrow and take another whack at it. Of course, if you’re tired of looking at it, I’ll just get it towed,” he added hastily.
“No, it’s no problem at all,” said Loretta, a bit crestfallen.
“Okay. Well, in that case, I guess I’ll just get goi
ng,” said Joey.
There was a hint of reluctance in his voice, but Loretta was uncertain what the reason for it was—a reluctance to leave or to return. She watched stupidly as he stepped out onto the porch.
“See you tomorrow,” was all she could think to blurt out as he hurried down the steps and out through the rain to his car.
When he drove away, Loretta stood there at the door, fuming. She slammed it shut and stomped into the living room, where she plopped disconsolately onto the couch. By then, having heard voices at the front door, a yawning Penny had come downstairs and was standing in her pajamas on the bottom stair, scratching her side.
“I am such an idiot!” Loretta screeched. “What was I thinking? Offer him a cup of coffee or tea, or a glass of water. Anything!”
“What’s the matter, Mom?” said Penny through another yawn. “Who was here?”
“Mrs. Campanile’s son,” lamented Loretta, tossing aside a cushion in frustration.
“Oh, already,” groaned Penny, clearly disappointed that she had missed him. “So, does that mean we’ll never see him again?”
“Yes, we’ll see him again” sighed Loretta. “He’s coming back tomorrow, to finish fixing that stupid car.”
“Really?” said the girl, her sleepy eyes brightening. “That’s good.”
Loretta sat there for a time, staring blankly into space, before suddenly sitting up straight, for an intriguing idea had just occurred to her. As she drummed her fingers once more against her chin, mulling it over, the makings of a plan began to coalesce in her mind.
“You know, you might be right,” she told her daughter at last. “It is good that he’s coming back tomorrow.”
It rained the rest of the day and all through the night, washing away much, if not all, of the snow left over from the storms of that long, relentless winter, before finally tapering off late Sunday morning. By midday, the clouds had started to break apart, and the sun once again showed its face just as Joey pulled up to the house. His timing could not have suited Loretta better. She went to the door and waved to him, while he went to work again on Francesca’s car. Penny, resting her elbows on the sill of the front window, propped up her chin on her fists and gazed out at him, while her brother pulled on his coat and hurried outside to watch.
“What’s going on out there now?” Loretta called from the kitchen a little while later.
“I don’t know,” answered Penny. “It looks like he’s saying something to Will.” A pause. “Wait a minute. He’s giving Will one of his tools and pointing to the engine.”
“What?” exclaimed Loretta.
She knew nothing about automobiles, but she was alarmed by the prospect of her son causing further damage to the car or, worse, injuring himself. As she rushed to the window, all manner of horrifying, if wildly improbable, mishaps instantly played in her maternal imagination. Crushed limbs, severed fingers, exploding gas tanks, electrocution. It was all too much to conceive. By the time she reached Penny’s side, though, she saw to her relief that Joey had already taken back the tool and was leaning once more over the engine by himself. Now and then, he would turn back to Will and say something to which the young boy paid rapt attention. The pair looked perfectly at ease with one another, and Loretta’s fears of just a moment prior melted away like the snow and the ice.
Nearly an hour passed before Joey packed up his toolbox and stowed it away in the trunk of his car. Will, meanwhile, ran up the front walk ahead of him to the house.
“Here they come!” cried Penny to her mother.
Loretta, wearing a crisp white apron, was just emerging from the kitchen when Will burst through the front door. Not far behind, Joey came to the doorway and leaned his head inside.
“Anybody home?” he called with a good-natured smile.
“Yes, of course, “Loretta greeted him. “Please come in.”
Joey stepped into the hallway, just as she had hoped he would.
“Did you fix the car?” Penny asked him.
“Nope, it’s busted,” answered Will before Joey could open his mouth.
“Is it really?” said Loretta.
“Technically speaking? Yup, it’s busted,” said Joey with a laugh. “I thought I’d be able to get it started, but I’m gonna have to get it towed. I think it might be the transmission.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Loretta. She had no clue as to what the transmission might be, but it sounded ominous. “Do you have a garage where you can take it?”
“Oh yeah, no problem,” Joey assured her. “I’ll just—”
He was about to say something else when he paused and gave the air a sniff.
“Gee, something smells good,” he noted.
“Oh, that,” said Loretta, a perfect picture of nonchalance. “I was just getting ready to put dinner on the table. Nothing special—just some ravioli and pork chops and spare ribs.” She waited a moment to give the image time to fully settle into his brain. Then, as if the idea had just come to her from completely out of the blue, she said, “Are you hungry? Why don’t you stay and have a bite to eat before you go?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that,” said Joey sheepishly. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense,” said Loretta. “There’s plenty.”
“Are you sure?” said Joey weakening.
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Loretta with an inviting smile. “Come on.”
Joey relented and, with a smile of his own, followed Loretta’s lead. While she went directly to the stove to finish drawing the spare ribs and pork chops out of the big pot of sauce, he came into the kitchen, washed his hands in the sink, and sat down with the children. The two youngsters sat there, gazing with unabashed admiration at their dinner guest, whose own eyes were drawn at the moment to the stove.
“Well, this a nice surprise,” Joey said, giving them a wink. “I hope your mom made enough.”
Loretta poured some sauce over the ravioli she had cooked and set the bowl on the table along with a plate of the pork chops and spare ribs.
“Trust me, there’s more than enough,” she said before taking her own seat, pleased beyond words that when he had come into the kitchen, Joey had obviously not noticed that the table had already been set for four.
CHAPTER 44
“What do you mean you couldn’t get it started?” said a displeased Francesca later that afternoon. “What did your father and I send you to college for anyway?”
“Chemical engineering,” Joey reminded her. He was once again sitting at a dinner table, this time in his mother’s kitchen, looking over the front page of the Sunday newspaper. “Believe it or not, automotive repair wasn’t part of the curriculum.”
Francesca was notoriously frugal and thus loathed to spend money on certain things, automobiles among them, unless absolutely necessary. “Well, you think you would have at least learned a thing or two from your father after all those years he spent repairing cars,” she griped.
“I did,” her son replied, turning the page. “I learned enough to know when I can’t do something by myself.”
Francesca let out a grumble and sat down across the table from him. “So now what do I do?” she asked him.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Joey. “I’ll get somebody to tow it tomorrow morning, and we’ll get it fixed, that’s all.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Francesca, shaking her head in annoyance. “What I want to know is, how am I supposed to get around the next few days without a car?”
“Oh, I get it,” said Joey, his eyes still scanning the headlines.
“You’re worried about how you’re going to get back and forth to babysit every day.”
“Among other things,” said Francesca testily, for he had read her mind precisely. “Are you finally going to start on me about that now?”
Joey shook his head. “Nope,” he replied. “I was just going to say that, if you want, I can take a late lunch for the next few days and drop you off there, and then co
me back after work to take you home.”
This suggestion was eminently suitable to Francesca. “Are you sure you’ll be able to do that?” she said, her tone softening a bit, for she now regretted getting so snippy with him.
“No problem,” her son assured her. “Just tell me what time to pick you up.”
“Great,” said Francesca, feeling much relieved. “You’re a good boy, Giuseppe, I don’t care what they say.”
“Eh, I try,” he said with a shrug.
Pleased to have her transportation arrangements settled for the next few days, Francesca slapped her hand down amiably on the table and got to her feet. “So, what do you want to eat, figlio mio?” she asked him. “I’ve got a couple of steaks in the fridge I can cook for you. Maybe a little risotto and a salad?”
Joey gave a nervous cough. “No thanks, Mom,” he told her. “I’m really not that hungry right now.”
Concerned for her son, Francesca came to his side and put her hand on his forehead. “Not hungry?” she said worriedly. “It’s almost five o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, and you don’t want to eat? What’s the matter? You feeling sick or something?”
“No, I’m fine,” said Joey, gently nudging her hand away. Then, in a faltering voice, “It’s just that—what I mean to say is that I already had something to eat a little while ago.”
“Where did you eat?” said Francesca, incredulous. She had been looking forward to cooking for him and was keenly disappointed.
“At her house,” her son admitted after a moment’s hesitation.
“Her? Who her?”
“Loretta,” said Joey, hiding himself once more behind the newspaper.
Francesca cocked her head to one side, as if she hadn’t heard him quite clearly.
“Where?” she asked again.
“Loretta’s house.”
Francesca stood there, gaping at him. Something about this admission gave her a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Very slowly, Francesca backed away and lowered herself once more into her chair.
“I see,” she said quietly. “I suppose that’s why it took you so long to get here.”
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