by J. D. Griffo
When someone asked her opinion, she offered truth instead of a mindless platitude. If something needed to be done, she did it herself instead of waiting for help. Her children might not recognize her, but that was okay. Just as they were living their lives the way they wanted to, Alberta had to do the same. It had taken her over sixty years, but she was finally answering to just one person: herself.
“Una vita molto diversa, ” she said.
Lola meowed lazily, and Alberta translated, “A very different life, Lola, that’s what I’m living.”
When the phone stopped ringing, Alberta smiled because it was nice to hear her son’s voice even if it was only a recording.
“Rocco, it’s your mother,” Alberta said. “Thank you for your postcard, it sounds like you and Gregory had a wonderful day. Give my grandson a big hug and kiss for me and tell him that I love him.”
She had to take a deep breath before she could continue. “I miss you and I love you too,” she said. “Addio, figlio.”
She stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, looking out the window and marveling at how beautiful and large Memory Lake looked. After all this time, the sight of it still surprised and delighted her. She wondered if her voice message would cause the same response from her son. Taking a cue from the sunshine that filtered in through the window and enveloped her, she chose to believe that it would.
The ring of the cell phone startled Alberta and made her jump. “Dio mio!” she exclaimed.
Hopeful that it was her son calling her back, she was smiling when she reached for the phone. Despite seeing that it was someone else calling her, her smile remained; in fact, it grew a little larger.
“Hello, lovey,” Alberta said, answering her granddaughter’s call.
“Gram!” Jinx shouted. “I need to see you.”
“Why?” Alberta asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jinx replied.
Without thinking, Alberta tucked her hair back over her ear as she often did when she was nervous. It was a habit acquired from the time she was a young girl, and while it was soothing to run her finger through her still thick hair, let it travel around her ear, and trace her jawline, it didn’t alleviate anxiety. Despite Jinx’s protestations, Alberta was still concerned.
“If everything’s all right, why do you need to see me?” Alberta asked.
“Because I have some superincredible, stupefacente news to share!” Jinx shouted.
“Wow, you’re breaking out the Italian words, this must be terrific news,” Alberta said. “Share it with me now.”
“No! I want to see your expression when I tell you,” Jinx said. “Come over to my place.”
“Ah Madon!” Alberta cried. “Fine! I’ll be right over.”
“Great! You are gonna flip when you hear what I have to tell you!” Jinx yelled. “Love you, Gram.”
Jinx ended the call before Alberta could reply. But it didn’t matter, Jinx knew her grandmother loved her just as much. She also knew that Alberta would be at her place as quickly as she could simply because Jinx had asked her to come. Alberta was incapable of refusing her granddaughter anything. The reverse was also true, and even though Jinx could be unpredictable at times she was always a dutiful granddaughter. Neither one had expected their relationship to become so vitally important, but neither one could imagine living without the other in their lives.
Alberta’s life might be very different from what she had envisioned it would be, but in some ways it was better.
And it most definitely wasn’t ordinary.
CHAPTER 2
Guai in vista.
“I think Jinx is going to tell us that she and Freddy are engaged!”
Even though Alberta had promised she would immediately race over to Jinx’s apartment to hear her good news, she had to first inform her sister and sister-in-law that good news was about to be shared. After Jinx hung up on her, Alberta called Helen and Joyce, explained the situation, and within fifteen minutes they were in Alberta’s kitchen, where they were now. Standing side by side, the two women stared at Alberta with the same stunned expression plastered on their faces. They looked the same, and yet they couldn’t have looked more different.
A former nun who had spent forty years living in a convent, Helen was thin, her short hair completely gray, and she stood about five foot seven thanks to the thick-heeled, sensible shoes she always wore. Her complexion, untouched except for a healthy application of pink lipstick, was fairer than the typical Sicilian’s, and her blue eyes were more pale than vibrant, which, combined with her skin tone, made her appear like a soft, watercolor painting. The look belied Helen’s much stronger and some might say cantankerous personality.
On the other hand, Joyce was African American, had black, close-cropped hair, black eyes, a curvy figure, and stood at five foot nine in her stocking feet. Her outfits were tailored, usually colorful, and always coordinated with eye-catching accessories, like the emerald stud earrings, avocado faux alligator belt, and cluster of Bakelite bracelets in varying shades of green that perfectly accented the khaki jumpsuit she was currently wearing. The only accessories Helen ever wore were the staples to her wardrobe: a gold crucifix necklace and a sturdy, black pocketbook.
Physically, they made an odd couple. Emotionally, they were in sync. And at the moment, they were in shock.
“Did you hear what I said?” Alberta asked.
This time when Alberta spoke, Helen and Joyce stared at each other. And then they screamed. Joyce’s shriek was much higher pitched than Helen’s gruff roar, but they were speaking the same language.
“Jinxie’s getting married?” Helen asked.
“She only told me that she had wonderful news to share,” Alberta said. “But I’d swear on Daddy’s grave that she’s going to tell us her boyfriend finally popped the question.”
“I can’t wait to take Jinx shopping for her gown,” Joyce said. “I have a former client whose son owns a bridal shop in Brooklyn. I convinced the father to invest in The Phantom of the Opera and he’s made a mint. The man owes me.”
“We owe Jinxie a celebration,” Helen said. “Do you think we have enough food?”
The ladies surveyed Alberta’s kitchen table, which was overflowing with food Alberta had assembled while waiting for Helen and Joyce to arrive. There were Tupperware containers filled with leftover lasagna and eggplant parmigiana, platters of antipasto covered in Saran Wrap, two boxes of Entenmann’s cakes—a Louisiana Crunch loaf and their classic golden cake with fudge icing. There was enough food to feed a hungry family of twelve and still the ladies weren’t sure there was enough for an impromptu gathering of four.
“As long as no one wants seconds you’ll be fine,” Helen said.
“Something’s missing,” Joyce claimed.
“Dio mio!” Alberta cried. “I don’t have time to make anything.”
“Do you have a pitcher of Red Herring in the fridge?” Joyce asked.
Nervously, Alberta opened the refrigerator door, and when she saw a full pitcher behind the carton of nondairy almond milk that she always kept on hand so Jinx could have it for her coffee, she sighed. She pulled out the pitcher and raised it overhead like a trophy. “Found it!”
Whenever the ladies gathered to play canasta, discuss clues on their latest detective case, or just gossip about family or the denizens of Tranquility, they had to have two things: an Entenmann’s dessert and something alcoholic to drink. For years they complemented their boxed dessert with flavored vodka, but when they ran out of new flavors to try, Jinx created their own signature drink. A Red Herring consisted of vodka, prosecco, cranberry juice, some orange juice, a splash of tomato juice, and a mint garnish to give it some extra visual oomph. No gathering of the Ferrara ladies would be complete without a pitcher of their very own liquid concoction, so they were relieved that Alberta had an extra one on hand to bring to Jinx’s.
Alberta was about to close the refrigerator door when she spied something else that made h
er scream.
“What’s wrong?” Helen asked.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Alberta replied as she pulled out a bottle of champagne. “Now we have everything we need to celebrate Jinx and Freddy’s engagement in style!”
* * *
When they arrived at Jinx’s apartment, the only one not ready to celebrate Jinx and Freddy’s engagement was Jinx.
“I never said I was getting married,” Jinx said.
“You did too!” Alberta shrieked. “You told me that you had the best news ever and you wanted to share it with me. And naturally I shared it with Helen and Joyce.”
“I’m glad you got hold of them,” Jinx replied. “I left messages, but neither one got back to me.”
Helen and Joyce looked at their phones and saw that Jinx had, in fact, left them text messages telling them to come to her apartment so she could share some happy news with them.
“It’s right here in black and white,” Joyce said.
“Show us the ring,” Helen demanded.
“What ring?” Jinx asked.
“The engagement ring Freddy gave you,” Joyce clarified. “Let’s see it.”
“I’m sorry to burst the crazy little bubble you all live in,” Jinx said, “but Freddy didn’t give me a ring.”
The three women gasped at the same time and instinctively reached out to grab one another’s hands. In times of shock, a woman needed support.
“Don’t tell me that somebody else gave you a ring?” Alberta said. “Poor Freddy will be devastated.”
“Gram, you’re talking pazzo!” Jinx cried.
“I’m crazy?” Alberta asked. “You’re the one who tells us to race over here because you have important news to share, we come to celebrate, and you claim you’re not getting married. You tell me, who’s the crazy one?”
“You three are obsessed with marriage,” Jinx declared. “Do you realize that?”
“Of course,” Alberta replied.
“A smidge,” Helen said.
“Also too, I can get you a primo discount on a wedding gown,” Joyce added.
Jinx smiled because even though she knew she was staring at three women who shared an almost unhealthy preoccupation with her personal life, she knew they also loved her unconditionally. It filled her with both pride and gratitude.
“I pledge to you right now that if Freddy ever gets down on one knee and proposes marriage to me, you three will be the first to know,” Jinx promised.
“We better be!” they replied in unison.
Surveying all the food that was spread out on her kitchen table, Jinx shook her head. “I can’t imagine what you’re going to whip up when I actually do get engaged. We’re going to have to rent a catering hall.”
“I have a friend whose daughter owns a place in Morristown,” Joyce said. “I’ll make a reservation tonight.”
“In the meantime, now that you have a captive though slightly disappointed audience,” Helen said, “tell us about this exciting news.”
“It’s actually not even my news to share,” Jinx shared. “It’s Nola’s.”
On cue, Jinx’s roommate, Nola Kirkpatrick, came out of her bedroom and stood looking at the Ferraras as if she was on trial. Which was ironic because the last time she was in their presence she was the prime suspect in a murder mystery they were trying to solve. Nola wasn’t a dangerous woman, but she did always seem to find herself in predicaments. And she usually dragged all those around her into her crisis as well.
Essentially an orphan after her adoptive parents died when she was a freshman in college, Nola didn’t have any other family to speak of, so her friends had become her family. Because her best friend and roommate was Jinx, she had claimed the Ferrara clan as her own. Even though they bore no physical resemblance—Jinx was taller, darker, curvier, and had long, wavy black hair, while Nola had a tomboy’s physique and long blond hair that remained straight no matter how long she used her curling iron—the two shared a sisterly bond. The rest of the Ferraras didn’t share Jinx’s opinion of Nola and considered the girl to be more like a distant relative. Better to be heard of than seen.
“Guai in vista,” Helen muttered.
Those in the room who understood Italian knew Helen was speaking the truth. Trouble had most definitely arrived.
“Hi, everybody,” Nola gushed. “I’m so glad you could all come over.”
“Jinx said it was important,” Alberta replied.
“I figured you’d be more inclined to accept my invitation if it came from Jinx instead of me,” Nola confessed.
“You’ve come to know us so well,” Helen said. “You’re a terrible director, but you’re perceptive.”
A beloved English and creative writing teacher at St. Winifred’s Academy, where she’d been named teacher of the year four times in a row, Nola also ran the theatre department at the school, directed the high school shows, and was the artistic director of the Tranquility Players, the town’s community theatre. Nola’s productions delighted the entire town, except Helen.
“Aunt Helen!” Jinx chided. “Nola’s a wonderful director and you know it.”
“You really are, honey,” Joyce said. “Your decision to set Guys and Dolls in a gambling addiction rehab center was inspired.”
“Thanks, Aunt Joyce,” Nola started. “I’m sorry, is it all right if I call you Aunt Joyce? After everything we’ve been through, I really do consider you all family.”
“Of course,” Joyce replied. “I’d be honored.”
“You can call me Helen,” Helen said.
The comment made everyone in the room cringe and hold their breath, except for Nola, who burst out laughing. “Duly noted ... Helen,” Nola replied.
“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Alberta said, “tell us what this emergency gathering is all about.”
“You should sit down for this,” Jinx instructed. “You’re all gonna freak out!”
Alberta and Joyce sat down on the couch on opposite sides of Helen and all three ladies braced themselves for whatever words were going to come out of Nola’s mouth.
“The Tranquility Players are putting on another show,” Nola announced.
Those were not the words they were expecting to hear.
“That’s the opposite of good news,” Helen barked.
“Nola isn’t directing,” Jinx offered.
“That’s slightly better news,” Helen said.
“I’ll only be producing and probably acting as the stage manager, because no one ever wants to do that job,” Nola clarified. “But yes, after a slight hiatus, the Tranquility Players are back in business.”
“That’s wonderful news, Nola, it really is, and we fully support the arts and your, um, artistic endeavors,” Alberta stammered. “But Jinx, you could’ve told us this news on the phone.”
“This isn’t any run-of-the-mill show,” Nola interjected.
“You’re the producer of the show,” Helen said. “Of course you’d say that.”
“No, Aunt Helen, she’s right,” Jinx said. “This show is going to put the Tranquility Players on the map, and I guarantee that all three of you are going to beg to sit in the front row at every performance.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Alberta said, “Your captive audience is intrigued. What’s so special about this community theatre production?”
Nola and Jinx looked at each other and squealed. They were acting like they were just told the secrets of the Vatican by a loose-lipped priest. It was time they shared their classified knowledge with the rest of the group.
“This show is going to be headlined by a real-life star!” Nola exclaimed. “I got a bona fide movie actress to be in the show.”
The ladies looked at each other and couldn’t conceal their growing excitement and skepticism. What famous actress could Nola have lured to act in her play? The Tranquility Players put on a good show, but it was hardly Broadway caliber entertainment. Or off-Broadway. It wasn’t even off-off Broadway. Then again, actresses were
desperate to perform and would go anywhere to perfect their craft if the part was good enough. Maybe Nola tantalized them with a role they couldn’t refuse. But who would’ve taken the bait?
“Is Ann-Margret coming out of retirement?” Alberta asked.
“Maybe Sophia Loren is tired of relaxing in her palatial villa,” Helen said.
“How do you know her villa’s palatial?” Joyce asked.
“It’s Sophia Loren,” Helen answered. “What other kind of villa is she going to live in?”
“Maybe it’s Claudia Cardinale,” Alberta said. “I loved her in The Pink Panther.”
“Nope,” Nola replied. “None of them.”
“Who, then?” Alberta asked. “Elke Sommer?”
Nola shook her head.
“Dyan Cannon?” Joyce asked.
Nola shook her head again.
“Anne Bancroft?” Helen asked.
“Anne Bancroft’s dead,” Nola replied.
“So’s my interest,” Helen said. “Enough of this guessing game, Nola. Who’d you get to star in your little show?”
“Missy Michaels.”
Alberta, Helen, and Joyce looked as if Nola had indeed revealed the secrets of the Vatican. They all stared at the young woman, their mouths agape, their eyes widening slowly. They remained like that until the excitement building inside them could no longer be contained, and then they let out three shrieks that, combined, created one deafening blare.
“Missy Michaels is going to perform right here in Tranquility?” Alberta asked.
“Yes!” Nola shouted.
“Didn’t I tell you this was the best news ever?” Jinx asked. “A heckuva lot better than my impending nuptials, which are not impending, by the way.”
“Let’s not get carried away, lovey,” Alberta said. “Nothing would be better than hearing that you’re going to get married, but this is a very close second.”
