by Wendy Byrne
"I'm so happy for you and Mike," Josie continued. "I've always known that you were meant to be together. Jeez, I don't know of two people more in love."
"Ahem." Rob cleared his throat.
She gave him a playful nudge in the side with her elbow. "Oh, get over yourself. Romance died after the first kid, babe."
Everyone laughed as Josie raised her glass again to us. "I have a feeling you two will find out about that very soon."
Oh, good grief. I stole a sideways glance at my father who was smiling broadly, his arm around my mother's tiny waist. I was afraid he'd misunderstand Josie's words and think I was already pregnant. I didn't want to be the reason for another stroke.
"Love you, Sal." Josie grinned as she made her way over to us. I reached out and enveloped her in a tight hug, unable to speak for a moment, while everyone clapped.
When the noise had subsided, my mother spoke up. "All right everyone, I have some news to announce. In fact, the Muccio family has quite a lot to celebrate these days. First off, my beautiful Gianna won her first court case today."
Everyone clapped again while Gianna stared at my mother, openmouthed, her jaw close to hitting the floor. My baby sister was my pride and joy, both beautiful and brilliant. As a public defender, she'd just landed her first case, and it had been huge. Gianna had defended a local man, who was rumored to have ties to the mob, on racketeering charges. A mistrial had been deemed earlier today.
Gianna's cheeks flushed pink with agitation and embarrassment. "Um, Mom, I didn't win. They—"
Mom ignored Gianna's comment and prattled on, announcing to everyone that Gianna got both her looks and her brains from her mother's side of the family, which made everyone laugh. I locked eyes with my sister, and she scowled at me. I understood her annoyance. Technically, Gianna had not won the case. She was waiting to hear if and when her client would be retried. We both loved our mother dearly, but she tended to present the facts in a way that suited her, whether they were true or not.
My mother beamed with pride. "And last but not least, I won the local Hotties Over Fifty pageant last week. What that means is now I'll be competing for a modeling contract and a trip to Hawaii in the statewide Foxes over Fifty contest, which starts in a couple of days!"
Everyone whistled and cheered appreciatively again.
My father grinned and lowered his hand from my mother's waist to her behind. He nodded at Mrs. Gavelli, who stood to his left side with Johnny. "This caboose won first prize."
Mrs. Gavelli grabbed Johnny's arm and moved away from my father in disgust.
Even over the laughter, I could hear Gianna gasp out loud. She hated my parents' public—and frequent—displays of affection. As much as I adored them, I had to admit they were tough to take sometimes.
Grandma Rosa sighed and shook her head. "May the good Lord help us all."
Everyone clapped again politely while my mother giggled and held up an 8 x 10-inch, framed photograph of her in a yellow bikini that brought to mind the old song "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini." I averted my gaze in embarrassment, as did Gianna, her face scarlet and probably mirroring my own.
Mike bowed his head and traced a pattern on the floor with his foot, attempting to hide his smile. My family had always been a source of amusement to him. Maybe he figured a whacky family was better than no family at all since he'd grown up with a drunken mother and abusive stepfather. I guessed we looked pretty tame when compared to what he'd endured.
"Okay, everyone, time to chow down," my mother giggled. "Please help yourselves."
Everyone formed a line behind me for the buffet. Still in shock and not especially hungry, I looked around at the covered hot trays, trying to decide what to get. Sitting down with an empty plate was a sign of disrespect in our family. I would have preferred my grandmother's homemade braciole but didn't say so for fear of hurting my mother's feelings. I settled on a slice of prime rib, mashed potatoes, and salad. My mother directed me to the center seat at an oblong table that had a balloon tied to it which read Birthday Girl. Jeez, was I five years old again?
Mike sat down to my right and reached for my hand, pressing it to his lips. "In a few weeks we'll be seated like this at our wedding, babe." He started to eat. "By the way, you'll get my present when we get home later."
I waved my wrist at him. Fastened around it was a gorgeous heart-shaped Tiffany bracelet he'd given me last night. "This was more than enough. Please tell me you didn't spend any extra money on me."
His smile was wicked as he leaned closer, his lips pressed against my ear. "I wasn't talking about that type of gift."
Heat flashed through my body as I understood his intended meaning. "You're naughty, Mr. Donovan."
"We haven't had any time alone all week," Mike complained as he cut into his meat. "We've got a lot of making up to do. I say let's blow this party early."
"Eat up," I teased. "You'll need to save your strength for later."
He roared with laughter as Gianna sat down to my left. I hadn't seen her in a few days, and she appeared to have lost weight. People always commented on the fact that we looked like twins, but I was never convinced. Gianna's rich chestnut hair was lighter than mine and enveloped her shoulders in perfect waves. Her face, although beautiful, was drawn and tired.
I leaned closer to her. "You're not still mad at Mom, are you?"
She pressed her lips together tightly. "Is it too much to ask that we could have a normal mother—or, shall I dare say, normal parents? Grandma is the only one who is completely sane."
"Not including me, I hope," I teased.
Gianna grimaced as she dug into her potatoes. The past few weeks had been rough for my sister. Her boyfriend of two years, Frank Taylor, had decided he'd had enough of playing second fiddle to what he called Gianna's "unnatural fascination with the law." They'd gone their separate ways, and now there was this whole incident with the mistrial that she had to deal with.
What my mother had failed to tell everyone was that an enamored juror had asked Gianna out on a date. She'd had no choice but to report the incident. The juror was dismissed, a mistrial called, and now my poor sister was left feeling humiliated after details had leaked out to the press.
"Hey." I touched her arm. "There's something else going on with you. Let's have it."
Gianna glanced around the room, but everyone else was busy eating, talking, or milling about. No one paid us much attention. She leaned closer. "I don't want to defend this guy again, Sal, and it's a pretty safe bet he's going to be retried. Bernardo's a total sleaze. I don't mean to sound unprofessional about this, but for now the trial is over, and I know I can trust you not to say anything. Frankly, I'm not convinced of his innocence."
"How did you wind up with him anyway?" I asked. "You're a public defender, and his family has oodles of money."
Bernardo Napoli, the man Gianna had represented in court, came from a prominent Italian family in Colwestern. His stepfather, Luigi, owned and operated Napoli Furnishings. It was a large, red-brick building where you could buy anything from a porcelain soap dish to a gold-plated dining room set. Most people in Colwestern knew the place was just a cover-up for mob operations, but no one dared to blow the whistle for fear of reprisal.
"His stepfather has all the money," Gianna explained. "Bernardo doesn't have any assets in his name. Even if he did, he probably still would have gotten a public defender since that's pretty much the way it works in this state. He was very pleased when they told him I'd be representing him. I've no idea why since this is my first case, and I'm more than a little green."
Mike, who'd been eating and listening without comment, wiped his mouth with a napkin. "He probably thought you were cute."
My sister narrowed her eyes. "Cute? I am an attorney. I am not cute."
Mike smiled but wisely said nothing. Like the rest of the family, he knew when Gianna was in one of her moods.
"You look exhausted," I said. "You've been working way too hard."
"Forget about that. All I want to know is that you're okay."
Josie came up behind us and put a hand on each of our shoulders. "Hey, Gi, there's a guy out in the hallway looking for you. He said his name is Bernardo. Isn't that your client?"
Gianna's face paled, and she hurriedly rose to her feet. "Crap. I told him I was coming here tonight. Did he say what he wanted?"
Josie shook her head. "He asked if you were in here and said he didn't want to come barging in. He seemed polite enough and is very good looking—for an older man."
I laughed. "Bernardo's only about forty, Jos. Not exactly ancient."
She made a face. "Oh, whatever." She turned back to Gianna. "Anyhow, he said it was urgent that he talk to you."
Gianna muttered under her breath. "Great. I wonder what's going on now." Her hands shook as she grabbed her purse off the back of the chair.
I placed a hand on her arm. "Are you sure you're okay? Let me go with you to meet him."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sal, but I know he'll want to go somewhere and talk. I may not make it back in time. Will you forgive me?"
I kissed her cheek. "As long as you don't do this at the wedding, I'm good."
"I'll call you later." She glanced toward the other side of the room where my mother and father were deep in discussion with Grandma Rosa and a friend. "Tell Mom and Dad I had to leave. If I go over there to say good-bye, they'll never let me out of their grasp."
"I'll save you a piece of cake and bring it to the bakery tomorrow."
"You'd better." She grinned then made her way over to the double doors.
When I'd moved in with Mike this past January, I'd rented Gianna my old apartment over the bakery. She was thrilled to be out on her own. My parents' house resembled a zoo in many ways, and Gianna desperately needed her private space.
I watched her graceful figure disappear behind the doors and caught a glimpse of Bernardo waiting on the other side for her. Bernardo had sultry Italian good looks—black, wavy hair, piercing brown eyes, and an olive complexion, slightly darker than my own. Something about him screamed wolf and left me concerned for Gianna's welfare. I saw his smile widen as she approached, and then the doors closed, cutting off my line of vision.
Loud giggles distracted me. I turned my head in time to see my mother and father kissing and winced. Mom was obsessed with my upcoming wedding, and I was afraid it had as much to do with Gianna as myself. She'd confided to me last week, after my sister's recent breakup, that she was afraid beautiful and brilliant Gianna, who would turn a ripe old twenty-six next month, was destined to become a spinster. I'd had a difficult time not rolling my eyes.
I noticed Johnny holding the door open for his grandmother. His eyes met mine, and he smiled and waved at both Mike and me, then followed her out. It seemed odd that they were leaving so early, but Mrs. G. did look exhausted. Harassing people for a living had to be tiring work.
Mike ran a finger down the side of my face. "Everything okay?"
"I'm worried about Gianna," I said. "She hasn't been the same since this case started."
"Do you want me to go check on them?" Mike asked. "I can't say that I trusted the looks of Mr. Mafia there."
"She'd be furious if you did. I'm sure she can handle him. He probably just wants to talk about the case." At least I hoped so.
I wondered if Gianna was allowed to tell Bernardo she didn't want to represent him again. I had a feeling he was enamored with her—as most men were. All Gianna had ever wanted was for people to take her seriously. Unfortunately, they seemed to be more focused on her beauty than brains, and it drove her crazy.
Someone touched my arm from behind. Grandma Rosa sat in Gianna's discarded chair and placed a small white box on my lap. "Happy birthday, cara mia."
Next to Mike, Grandma Rosa was the other love of my life. She had come to live with her daughter and son-in-law when my grandfather passed away, shortly after Gianna's birth. She was an excellent cook, made the world's best ricotta cheesecake, and her sound advice never failed. Growing up, she was the one person Gianna and I would run to with our problems. My grandmother had never been too busy to listen or lend a shoulder for us to cry on, which had been quite often.
"You didn't have to do anything." I removed the top of the box and revealed an ancient silver cameo brooch set with a glittering blue topaz stone in the center. My breath caught. As a little girl I had loved playing dress up with Josie and Gianna. Grandma Rosa sometimes allowed us to play with her costume jewelry, but this prized piece had always been off-limits no matter how much I'd begged and pleaded.
A lump formed in my throat as I stared into her brown eyes and the wrinkles that formed around them when she smiled. Grandma always said that they were lines that came from wisdom, not age.
"I can't take this. Grandpa gave it to you when you got married."
She shook her head. "No. He did not like to buy me jewelry. He did once give me a ring from a Cracker Joe box, though."
I laughed. "It's Cracker Jack." I fingered the brooch, intrigued. "Who gave it to you, then?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "That is a talk for another time. I insist you take the brooch. Why do you think I did not want you to play with it when you were a little girl? Because I knew someday it would belong to you. It is not only a birthday present. You will wear it at your wedding as well. You know the saying 'something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue'? Well, right here you have the old and the blue. You can borrow the pearl necklace I gave your mother at her wedding. That will look beautiful with the new gown."
I blinked rapidly, but the tears came anyway. I reached out and wrapped my arms around her while she laughed and patted my back. "You are a good girl, my Sally. I did not give the brooch to you for your first marriage because I knew it would not last." She released me and nodded toward Mike, who watched us with affection. "This one—it will be different."
Mike's hand tightened around mine.
"Thank you," I whispered, too choked up to say anything else.
"Guess what, honey?" My mother squealed from behind me. "Look what we have for dessert? I had the restaurant order them special!" She held out a tray of homemade chocolate fortune cookies.
Ugh. I caught Josie watching us from across the room, amused. Okay, I was probably being silly. Just because the fortune cookies we used in the shop sometimes had an uncanny way of predicting the future didn't mean that these would have the same effect, right?
"Come on, Sal. They won't bite." Mike handed me a cookie and then whispered in my ear. "Leave that part to me later."
It suddenly grew warm in the room. "We are so leaving after this." I broke the cookie apart and stared down at the strip of paper.
Things will heat up for you tonight.
Mike studied the message with interest, and a broad smile broke out across his face. "Damn. How did it know what I was thinking?"
BURNED TO A CRISP
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