I glanced around. Would a car come careening through the front window? Would a bolt of lightening crack our table down the center? Was that actually a black cloud hovering over Marty’s head?
I took a deep breath. “I hope you’re right, Marty. Starbucks is a great company. I’d hate to see anything happen to it. My daughters are there all the time. And I hear Anthony and Victor are putting in a lot of time down there. Are you sure you don’t want your own order of garlic bread?”
“No, thanks. Just one more piece. Yes, Anthony is lovely, very charming. Victor, well, not so much. He’s into all that metaphysical stuff, you know, karma and auras and things. Always talking about positive energy. He actually said I had a negative vibe. What kind of crap is that?”
Tina appeared, dishes in hand. She set down mine, then Marty’s, and smiled at us both. “Can I do anything else?”
I picked up my plate and handed it back to her. “I’ll take mine to go.”
Jessica found me on the back porch, eating Chicken Marsala and drinking a tall vodka tonic. She sat down across from me, watching for a while, before she spoke.
“Another bum date?”
“I cannot,” I told her in all honesty, “even begin to describe it. Let’s just say we can never go into Starbucks again.”
She shrugged. “Maybe you can’t, but we can. He doesn’t know who we are. He hates all the kids. He’s just nice to the old rich folks.”
“I’m not having much luck with this dating thing.”
“I noticed that. We have to figure out what you’re doing wrong.”
“Me? Why would it be me doing the wrong?”
She shrugged. “Well, Mom, anybody is allowed one crappy date, it’s just a mistake, you know? And even the second time can just be a matter of poor judgment. But after the third time, you’ve got to wonder if maybe it’s you instead of, you know, them.”
“It’s them. Trust me. I get along fine with Doug.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d start getting along with somebody else. I don’t want Mr. Keegan for a step-dad.” She hauled herself up out of the chair and skulked off into the house. I sat for a while longer, drinking. Maybe she was right. Was there something wrong with me?
To: Anthony
From: Mona
Date: July 26
Subject: Marty
Anthony, really, is there something wrong with me?? I found Marty to be the most depressing and depressed person ever. Did you know he drove several companies into bankruptcy, and has been married four times?
To: Mona
From: Anthony
Date: July 27
Subject: Marty
Oh, honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. I thought you knew about Marty. Everyone knows he’s been through four wives. Where have you been? I didn’t know about the bankruptcy curse, or the depression thing. He’s always so cheerful behind the counter. But he’d have to be. But this is still practice, right? Don’t take it so seriously.
To: Mona
From: Aunt Lily
Date: July 27
Subject: Brian
Hello, dear. I just though I’d let you know that the worthless piece of shit you’re divorcing called me this morning and said he was coming by tomorrow before lunch to collect all his belongings that you had set aside for him in the garage. Now, I don’t mind him being here as long as he stays outside, but what if he wants to come into the house? I’m thinking about calling a friend of mine from Brooklyn to act as sort of a bodyguard. I can’t imagine what I’d do if that miserable asshole tried to force his way in. I don’t believe Anthony works on Thursdays, not that he’d be very effective in the protection department. He’s a lovely boy, but don’t you think he’s a touch effeminate? Lana chased a kitten, Olivia I believe, up the living room drapes yesterday and the poor little thing had to jump for her life. Lana is not adjusting as well as I’d hoped to her new little family.
My love to the girls, Aunt Lily
The day after reading Lily’s e-mail, I left the house at four thirty in the morning so I could be sure to arrive in Westfield before Brian. Traffic on the Parkway can be a crapshoot, but I got lucky and slid into the driveway just at seven. The sun was coming up, birds were chirping, all looked peaceful and perfect. I slid down behind the steering wheel and promptly fell asleep. I was in the middle of a rather nice dream, something to do with eating cracked crab with that cute guy from Dirty Jobs, when a very deep voice woke me up.
“Hey, lady.”
I opened my eyes. It was much brighter. I glanced at my watch. I’d been asleep for over an hour. I turned my head toward the voice.
It was Luca Brasi from The Godfather.
“Hey, lady, you supposed to be here?”
I struggled to sit upright and find my voice. “I live here,” I said.
He looked at me with suspicion. He was a young Luca, but he had the same cold look in his eye. “I thought Lily Martel lived here.”
Lily? He knew my Aunt Lily? “She’s my aunt,” I explained. “It’s my house. She lives with me.”
He stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he pondered this information. I was beginning to think that what he had in abundance in the brawn department, he perhaps lacked in other areas. “So, then, how come you’re sleeping out in your car instead of in your house?”
“I’ve been living down the shore all summer, and thought I’d come up today, but I got here early. I didn’t want to wake her. Do you know my Aunt Lily?”
“She’s a friend of a friend. I was sent down here in case she had trouble. Don DeMatriano told me to keep her safe.”
It took me a second to realize that Don was not Mr. DeMatriano’s first name. “Can I get out of the car?” I asked.
He thought about it, then backed away. He opened the car door for me, closed it behind me, and followed me around to the kitchen door. The fact that I had a key made no impression on him.
Lily was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee and the morning paper on the counter. She looked up as we entered, and registered no surprise at my appearance, nor the appearance of a total stranger dressed in a gray pinstriped suit and wearing a black fedora.
“Coffee, Mona? You must have left awfully early. And are you Mr. Guerrano?”
Luca smiled. “Yes, ma’am. You Mrs. Martel?”
“Yes. But call me Lily. Everyone does.”
“Sure. And you can call me Mickey. Please.”
She slid off the stool and pulled out some cups.
“Aunt Lily,” I said is a surprisingly calm voice, “I really need to speak with you. Right now.”
“Of course, dear, as soon as I pour this nice young man some coffee. Banana bread? I baked it myself just yesterday.”
Mickey smiled. There was a gap between his two front teeth, so large that I detected a glint of silver on his molars. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.”
“Now, Aunt Lily.”
She scowled, set the food in front of Mickey, and swept out of the kitchen.
I followed her into the living room and, with a quick look over my shoulder to make sure Mickey had not followed us out, hissed, “Did you hire that gorilla as a bodyguard?”
She shook her head sadly. “Now, Mona, just because he’s a rather large man, that’s no reason to call him names. I’m sure he’s very sweet.”
“He’s hired muscle from Don DeMatriano.”
She frowned. “No, Mona, you’re mistaken. It’s Joe DeMatriano.”
“Joe may be his name, but Don is his title. How did you meet a Mafia kingpin?”
“I’m sure Joe is not a kingpin. He sat next to me, a few years ago, during a lecture at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. It was about the migration patterns of the Monarch butterfly in North America. Fascinating stuff. We started talking, then went out for coffee. We would see each other once in a while after that, usually for coffee.”
I clutched my chest. “You dated a Don?”
She chuckled and waved her hand. “Don’t be silly, I’m old enough to be his mother. Besides, he’s very happily married. Five children. All boys. The oldest – “
“Aunt Lily. Stop. I don’t care about his family. Well, actually, I do, because I think a member of the enforcement branch is having banana bread in my kitchen. You called this guy? Joe?”
“Well, yes. Joe told me that if I was ever afraid, or worried about my safety in any way, I should call him and he would make sure I was taken care of. I called him last night about Brian, and he told me to expect Mickey. Just as a precaution.”
The thought of Mickey escorting Brian down the driveway kept my mind in a happy place for several seconds, then common sense kicked in. “Aunt Lily, now that I’m here, why don’t we let Mickey go back to whatever cave he came from.”
“Now, Mona, that seems to me a very rude thing to do. He just got here. Let him stay for a while, to feel useful.”
“Maybe.” I turned around and went back into the kitchen. Mickey was sitting at the breakfast bar and scratching the ear of a black kitten who had jumped on the stool beside him. I watched as his massive fingers curled around the tiny ear, and he made little kissing noises. He caught me watching him and blushed.
“I love kitties,” he said.
“That’s Olivia,” Lily said, bustling back into the room. “Lana hates her most.”
The back door opened, and Mickey rose to his feet in a movement so abrupt that Lily and I both jumped, and Olivia bolted from the stool. Mickey’s hand actually went into the opening of his jacket as Lily yelled.
“It’s okay, Mickey. That’s not him.”
It was Ben Cutler, frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide and fixed on Mickey’s face.
“Ben, what a surprise.” Lily smiled at Mickey. “That’s Ben. He’s a plumber, and quite welcome. Come on in, Ben. I didn’t expect you back until next week.”
Ben hadn’t moved. He smiled at Mickey. “Are you a friend of Lily’s?”
Mickey had sat back down and picked up his coffee cup. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Good. Hi, Mona. I didn’t expect you either.”
“Come on in, Ben. If it weren’t seven-thirty in the morning, I’d offer you a drink. Coffee?”
He finally moved his eyes from Mickey to me. “That would be great. So, Lily, yes, I didn’t think I’d be around today either, but I knew that Ray had finished up the sheetrock yesterday, and I wanted to check it out. Did Lily tell you, Mona, that we’re working on your bathroom?”
“Yes. I don’t suppose I can take a peek?”
Lily made a cluck-cluck sound. “No, dear, it’s a surprise. Banana bread, Ben?”
“No, thanks, Lily.”
I sipped my coffee and looked at the happy domestic scene before me. My beloved aunt, in a modest housecoat of pale pink roses, was pouring herself another cup of coffee. Mickey, the hired help, calmly munching on banana bread, was thoroughly prepared to kill the next person to walk through the door. Ben, no longer looking nervous but alert and seriously hot.
He leaned against the fireplace mantle, one hand on his hip, the other holding the dagger carelessly. His dark eyes glinted in the firelight as he smiled. ‘Quite an interesting situation,’ he said, his voice soft and deadly. She knew she should be frightened, but all she could think about was long, strong line of his throat above the open linen collar, and the way the leather of his boots hugged his muscled calves.
“Aunt Lily,” I said, “now that Ben is here, perhaps we can relieve Mickey of his, ah, assignment.”
Lily frowned. “But he’s come such a long way.”
Mickey glanced around. “Hey, it’s no difference to me. Stay here, drive back to Brooklyn, I still get paid. It’s up to you, ma’am. If you think you still need me, I’ll be happy to stay.”
Ben looked clueless, but game. “Lily, I don’t know what you could possibly need me to stay for, but I will. All day. And tonight. I’ve got nothing to do tonight either.”
Lily pursed her lips. “Mickey, I suppose I’ll be fine with Ben here. Would you mind going back home?”
He lumbered to his feet, wiped crumbs from the front of his suit, and shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. I’ll be on my way. If you ever feel the need of my assistance again, just let Mr. DeMatriano know. It was a real pleasure meeting you.” He bowed, surprisingly graceful, and walked out. The room seemed suddenly very empty.
Ben turned to me and blurted. “What the hell just happened?”
“That was Mickey,” I explained, laughing shakily. “Brian told Lily he was coming by today to get his things out of the garage, and Lily got a little panicked, so she called her good buddy, the Mafia don, who sent one of his assassins to protect her.”
Ben turned to Lily in amazement. “You know a Mafia don?”
Lily shrugged. “I think Mona is exaggerating a little bit. Joe is just a local businessman who knows a few people, that’s all.”
Ben frowned. “Joe?”
Lily nodded. “Joe DeMatriano.”
Ben’s jaw dropped. “Joe DeMatriano? As in Big Joey ‘Two Shoes’ DeMatriano’s son? He’s head of one of the biggest organizations in New York, one of the Five Families.”
“Oh dear,” Lily murmured. “He told me he was a shoe wholesaler.”
Ben put down his coffee cup and leaned forward against the breakfast bar. “Christ, Lily, he’s one of the biggest criminals in the state. And yeah, he is a shoe salesman, that’s how his father got his nickname. It’s one of their fronts, the shoe business. That was their tag line, back in the seventies. Big Joey would appear in his own commercials, saying if you came to his shoe stores, you could buy two shoes for the price of one. Then he was indicted for money-laundering, trying to bribe a government official, and several counts of murder. Don’t you ever read the newspapers?”
Lily sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “Of course I do. But I don’t read that kind of unpleasantness. Organized crime.” She sniffed again. “I need to get dressed. If you both would excuse me, I’ll be upstairs.” She turned, and, with great dignity, left the room.
I looked at Ben and burst out laughing. “I can’t believe her.”
Ben was shaking his head and chuckling, his beautifully formed shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe her either. God, what a summer this has been, with that old lady.” He straightened up and looked at me. “You look terrific, by the way. I really like your hair short like that.”
I was so flustered that I almost dropped my coffee cup. “Thanks, Ben. It’s good to see you, too, because Brian really is coming over here, and I could use a little moral support.”
He spread his arms wide. “Well, I’m here. Let me run upstairs and check out the work they’ve been doing, then we can sit and wait for him together.”
We didn’t wait long. I puttered around the kitchen, had a conversation with a sulky Lana, and had barely settled into the living room with a magazine when I heard the front door open.
Brian came into the living room, saw me and came to a stop. “Mona, what a surprise. I didn’t know you’d be here. Lily didn’t mention it.”
“Well, it is my house, Brian.”
“Of course. It’s just that you’re usually at the shore house.”
I smiled. “Yes, I am. Which makes me wonder why you didn’t try to contact me there to let me know you were coming by today.”
He smiled broadly. “Mona, don’t talk like that. It makes it sound like I need your permission.”
“Permission would have been good, Brian. You don’t live here any more, remember? And all your things are in the garage, which is open. There is no reason for you to be in this house at all, especially since you never told me you’d be here, and didn’t even bother to ring the doorbell.”
He was still smiling, but his eyes narrowed. Not a good thing. “You’re becoming quite the bitch about this whole thing, aren’t you?”
“Not at all, Brian, but we’ve both paid our lawyers lots of money to work out a settlement, and in the division of property, this particular property is going to be all mine. And everything that’s in it. Anything that’s yours is outside, where you should be. I don’t think they’d like it if we messed around with all their hard work.”
Brian sighed and stuck his hands in the pockets of his khakis. “Mona, don’t get too stuck on all that legalese. I’m sure we can renegotiate if we want to.”
I’d stood up and walked over to him. “I don’t want to. Renegotiate. I like things just as they are. Your stuff is in the garage. I’ll be happy to help you move it into the car.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Mona, did I tell you your hair looks great short like that? In fact,” he leaned in. “You look great altogether. Very sexy.” He reached out and put his hand against my cheek. “I’d forgotten how hot you could look.”
I stepped back from him, suddenly shaky. I had not expected anything like this. “What do you want, Brian?”
His smile turned. “What are you offering, babe?”
“Nothing.” My voice was pitchy. I hated that. “Nothing at all.”
His smile vanished. No more Mister Nice Guy. “There are a few things I forgot about, that’s all. Small stuff. I’ll just get them and leave.”
“Like what?”
“Like the print in the bedroom. The Audubon. That was my father’s.”
“It was a gift from your father. To me. For my birthday. It’s mine and you can’t have it. And that certainly isn’t a small thing. It’s worth thousands.”
He sighed, lifting his shoulders. “Yeah, well, what about the mirror in the den, you know, the one we bought in Napa?”
“You mean the Art Deco Antique that I bought in Napa? That’s also worth a fortune, and it’s also mine.”
“I’m starting to think that maybe it isn’t.”
“Then call your lawyer and tell him about it. Then he can call my lawyer, and they’ll hash it out for a few weeks, and I’ll still get it because I kept the bill of sale because it had the appraisal on it, and it’s in my name only.”
“Bitch isn’t even the word, Mona. You’re – “
“Brian, I think you should leave now.”
“Listen, Mona, this is still legally my house, and I can walk into it and be in it for as long as I like, because I still have certain rights. And you’re still legally my wife, so watch your mouth, because I can still do what I want with you, too.”