The Minnesota Candidate (6 page)

“You wouldn’t be putting us out,” said Shari.
“Tom, call Triple A and have them tow Sam’s car to a repair shop. I
was just about to order some Chinese? Does that work for
everyone?”

“Chinese?” asked Doris, making a sour face. “I
was hoping that you would have cooked something.”

Shari wanted to laugh. She had been cooking all
day, but not the way Doris had in mind.

“Thank you,” said Sam. “You guys are great. I
just knew you and Fat Tommy would come through for me.”

Shari stopped and turned to face him. “You can
call Tom whatever you like when you’re alone,” she said, stiffly.
“But I find it disrespectful to hear him called that, especially
when you’re a guest at his home. I would appreciate it if you
remembered that.”

Shifty Sam smiled and nodded his head. “Whatever
you say, Mrs. P.”

“Oh no,” said Doris. “There’s only one Mrs. P in
this family, and that’s me. Sam, you’ll just have to call her
something else.”

“I prefer Shari,” said Shari. “There will be no
nicknames used here.”

After carrying Doris’s purchases into the house
and stowing them inside her room, Tom and Sam walked back out to
the garage. Tom made small talk as the hired help emptied their
trucks. He told Sam about the house fire, but found out that Sam
had already heard about it. “That must be a terrible thing,” he
said. “Your mom is a strong woman.”

“You can say that again,” agreed Tom.

“She was always my favorite cousin.”

Tom pulled his cellphone from his pocket. “So,
where did you leave your car?”

Sam made a funny face and his eyes fell to the
ground. “I ain’t got no car, Tommy,” he admitted. “I kind of made
that part up.”

Tom nodded. He had expected as much. He liked
Sam, he had always liked Sam; everyone had always liked Sam. By all
accounts, Sam Calizzi was the kind of guy who would give you the
shirt off his own back. He was polite, funny, and had a smile that
could light up a room. The trouble with Sam was that trouble hung
over him like a shadow. He made poor decisions and he had paid for
each of those bad decisions. They had cost him nearly half of his
life. “Sam,” he said, “I want to help you, but I need to know if
you’re on the level. You’ve made some pretty crummy choices in the
past. Can we agree on that?”

Sam removed his toothpick and he began to laugh.
“Yeah,” he said, “I think we can agree on that.”

“Are you working?”

Sam put the toothpick back between his teeth and
he shrugged. “Kind of,” he said.

“Kind of? What do you mean?”

“Well, I give blood three times a week. I’m AB
Negative. It ain’t so bad. I get cookies and juice and it pays for
my gym dues.”

“Uh-huh,” said Tom, wondering how anyone could
survive like that. “Where do you live?”

Sam scratched his head and studied Tom’s face.
His brown eyes grew cold. “Where the heck do you think I live? I
live under a bridge, Tommy, inside a refrigerator box. I own two
pairs of clothes and I wash them with a bar of soap, down in the
river. And you know what? I ain’t blaming anyone but myself for
where I’m at. I’ve been a fool and I like to think that I learned
my lesson. Yeah, I’ve made some crummy choices, but if you’re
thinking that you can’t trust me, you’d be dead wrong. I ain’t
never lied or stolen a dime from my family, Tommy. You can take
that to the bank.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to. I could see it in your
face.”

Tom smiled sadly and nodded his head. “Can you
blame me for wanting to be careful?”

Sam stepped outside of the garage and let his
eyes wander around the property. “Not one bit,” he said, shaking
his head.

“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.”