Rosato And Associates: Accused Part 29

Chapter Thirty-six.

Mary set next to her mother and father on one side of the small dining table, and El Virus sat at the head, with Anthony, his brother Dom, and his mother's best friend Bernice Foglia on the other. Half gla.s.ses of chianti, leftover cheese ravioli, broccoli rabe glistening with olive oil, and a few pieces of sweet sausage with anise seed remained as evidence of a delicious and festive dinner. A bouquet of pink flowers, which Mary had bought on the way over, sat at the far end of the table, their refrigerated fragrance mingling with the scents of coffee and Polident. They were about to have dessert, and a b.u.t.tercream birthday cake from Melrose Diner awaited, in its cardboard box in the kitchen.

"WHAT A MEAL, ELVIRA!" her father said, leaning back in his chair.

Her mother dabbed at her mouth with a crumpled napkin. "Si, Elvira, the gravy, so good! What you put in?"

"You gotta put pork. That's the difference."

"E vero?"

"Yes, absolutely." El Virus smiled, sweetly. "You don't put pork in your gravy, I know, but I do."

Mary tried not to notice that her mother's face fell. She rose and waved everybody into his seat. "I'll clear the dishes."

"I'll get the coffee." Anthony got up, picked up his plate and silverware with a smile. "Everybody except Dom takes cream and sugar, right?"

"Right." Dom grinned, patting his paunch, which threatened to fill out his Adidas track jacket. He was Anthony's easy-going, if underachieving, younger brother who'd moved out of El Virus's house only last year. "I don't eat sugar. I'm sweet enough."

Anthony rolled his eyes, albeit benevolently. "Every time, Dom? You have to say that every time?"

"IT'S FUNNY," said Mary's father, with an easy grin.

Mary picked up as many plates as she could carry and headed into the kitchen, feeling uneasy and preoccupied. All throughout dinner, she was racking her brain to come up with a next step in the Gardner investigation and she'd flashed alternately on Lonnie Stall, hopeless in his incarceration in Graterford, and Allegra, confined to Churchill against her will. She knew that they weren't the same situations, but she felt weighed upon by both of them in the same way. Bottom line, she was failing at freeing Lonnie or Allegra.

"You having fun, babe?" Anthony asked, coming into the kitchen behind her and setting his plate in the sink. "You're kind of quiet."

"I know, sorry. It's the case." Mary reached into the cabinet and grabbed a bunch of mugs with sayings that seemed to be speaking directly to her. DON'T WORRY, BE HAPPY. WORLD'S BEST MOTHER.

"I get it, and I have papers to grade. We'll open presents and go home." Anthony kissed her quickly on the cheek, then left the kitchen to get more dirty dishes.

The last of the coffee dripped into the gla.s.s pot of the Mr. Coffeemaker, and Mary set the mugs in a row on the counter instead of bringing them empty to the table, because it gave her a chance to hide in the kitchen. It was true that she had been quiet during dinner, relieved to sit back, eat a good meal, and let everyone entertain each other. Happy chatter of wedding plans and gallbladder operations had dominated the conversation, and she had chimed in on one of these subjects, namely gallbladder operations. She could barely get a word in edgewise during the discussion of whether a winter wedding was better than a summer wedding, whether a catering hall would make people feel more at home than a ritzy downtown hotel, and how the ziti should not be overcooked, which everybody knew was impossible, as ziti was always overcooked. Mary knew they were just talking, full of excitement and antic.i.p.ation, and in the end, she and Anthony would make their own decisions.

Mary picked up the coffeepot and began to pour seven mugs of coffee, trying to stretch the pot to make a first round. She found herself wondering what Judy was doing tonight. She had called her on the way over, but Judy hadn't called back. Lou's admonition about the queen bees had stuck in her brain, lodging deep within the Worry Lobe, and she hoped he was wrong. The last thing she wanted was a power struggle with her best friend on the planet.

"Here comes another wave." Anthony entered the kitchen with dirty dishes and put them into the sink. "I say we load them later, at the end of the night."

"That's a plan." Mary grabbed two mugs of coffee, left the kitchen, and set them down in front of El Virus and her mother. "Here we go, ladies."

"Grazie, Maria."

"Thanks, Mare." El Virus grabbed Mary's arm. "Look at this, everybody! This is my new daughter. Finally, I got my own little girl! Better late than never, that's what I say!"

"Me, too." Mary managed a smile.

"Remember how we met, Mary? Remember that, everybody? Mary was my lawyer! She got me that awning out front, all-new, they replaced it when it leaked." Elvira looked up at Mary, her cloudy brown eyes shining behind her bifocals. "I'm proud to call you mine!"

"Thanks." Mary extracted her arm and fled to the kitchen. She picked up two more mugs of coffee and ran them out to Bernice, who thanked her, and Dom.

"Thanks, sis," Dom said, with a laugh. He worked as a mechanic, finally finding some stability after one or two harebrained schemes to make a fast buck, punctuated by DUIs. "You're my sister now, right?"

"Right." Mary forced another smile. Dominic looked like an inflated version of Anthony, except that his brown eyes were duller, his nose was bigger, his cheeks more puffy, and his lips more fleshy. It wasn't his weight she minded, but there was nothing funny about drunk driving, and her parents felt the same way.

"Mary, welcome to the family!" Dom leaned back and grinned up at her. "You're gonna change your name, aren't ya?"

"Uh, no, honestly," Mary answered, caught off-balance.

"But you're one of us now! You're a Rotunno!" Dom threw up his hands, but Mary felt a headache coming on. She loved Anthony, but she never thought that marrying him would make her a Rotunno.

"Dom?" Anthony turned from the kitchen threshold, a stack of dirty plates in his arms. "For real? Of course she's not going to change her name. She's known professionally by DiNunzio. I don't want her to change her name. I didn't ask her to."

"Okay, bro, whatever, it don't matter!" Dom gestured grandly around the table. "Welcome to the DiNunzios, and happy birthday to my mother! I know that my father, G.o.d rest his soul, woulda been so happy tonight!"

"MAY HE REST," said Mary's father, and Mary's mother blessed herself.

El Virus didn't react, probably because she'd divorced Anthony's father years before he pa.s.sed and usually referred to him as Sc.u.mbag.

"I'll go get the rest of the coffee." Mary hurried back to the kitchen, in a deeper funk. Her mother always said that when you marry a man, you marry his family, and she began to feel nervous at the prospect of marrying the Rotunnos. She picked up two more coffees, hurried out to the table with them, and set one in front of her father, kissing him on top of his bald head. "Love you, Pop."

"LOVE YOU, TOO, HONEY."

Anthony emerged from the breakfront with a stack of dessert plates and started distributing them around the table. "Mary, you want to get the cake started, and I'll be right in to light the candles?"

"Sure." Mary went back inside the kitchen and grabbed a cake knife from a drawer, coming eye-level with the sign, A Mother Is Someone You Never Outgrow. She used to think it was funny, but now she saw it with new eyes. She closed the drawer and looked around, as if seeing the kitchen for the first time.

It was small, neat, and white, like Mary's parents' except for the modern appliances and funny sayings plastered everywhere. The wall calendar read, Home Is Where Your Mom Is, next to a placard on the counter, I Gave Up Drinking But I'm No Quitter. A sign hanging on the kitchen doork.n.o.b read, Friends Welcome, Relatives By Appointment Only. Cake knife in hand, she turned to the refrigerator magnets, her eyes darting from one to the next: I'm Not Stubborn, My Way Is Just Better. Retired and Spending My Kid's Inheritance. Call your Mother. Italian American Princess. Mary knew the napkin holder in the dining room read, Bless This House, and needlepoint pillows in the living room said, This House Is Clean Enough To Be Healthy and Dirty Enough To Be Happy. If It's Not One Thing, It's Your Mother. What if The Hokey Pokey Is What it's All About?

It struck Mary that the decor had an awful lot to say, though none of this had given her a second thought before. She wasn't usually judgmental about furniture, especially since she barely had any, but tonight, she found herself reading the signs as if they were red flags.

"Mary?" Anthony asked, standing in front of her with the packet of birthday candles and a matchbook. "Did you hear me?"

"No, sorry."

"The natives are restless out there, and you didn't open the cake box." Anthony's expression softened, and he caressed her shoulder. "You okay? You look kind of dazed."

Mary's mouth went dry. "What if the hokey pokey is what it's all about?"

"What?" Anthony burst into laughter, set down the birthday candles and matchbook, and put his arms around her. "It's my brother, isn't it? You know he's an idiot, you don't need to listen to him. I never expected you to change your name and I don't want you to. You're Mary DiNunzio, and you always will be, forever and ever and ever. I love you."

"I love you, too." Mary buried herself in his embrace, trying to clear her head.

"You've got a lot going on lately, and you haven't slept decently in a while. And how can you function, if your s.e.xual needs aren't being met? You're a young woman."

Mary smiled, and Anthony released her gently, smiling down at her.

"Mary, why don't you go out there, sit down, and relax while I bring the cake out? Go, now."

"You sure?"

"Yes, see you, bye." Anthony took her by her shoulders, marched her to the door, then swatted her on the b.u.t.t, which propelled her into the dining room. She went to her chair, sat down, took a sip of water, and watched the rest of the birthday celebration in a blur, as Anthony brought out the cake, glowing with candles, which were blown out, then cake was eaten and coffee drunk, presents were opened and hugs dispensed all around, then El Virus stood up, with a teary smile.

"I just want to thank all of you for making this such a special birthday. But I have a surprise, a birthday present to myself that's just between Mary and me."

Mary set down her coffee, worried. She hadn't gotten Elvira anything for her birthday, except the flowers and half of the silver frame.

"Mary, I know you're looking forward to shopping for a wedding dress. I know how important that is to every girl."

Suddenly Mary realized what El Virus has been talking about, since Anthony had prepped her the other night. "You're right, Elvira. I really am looking forward to getting a wedding dress, and I would love it if you would come with my mother and me when we go shopping."

"Thank you, but that's not the surprise. Wait a minute." Elvira walked to the threshold of the dining room, where there was a coat closet. She opened the door, reached inside, and pulled out a long, white garment bag.

"Lemme help, Ma." Dom rose heavily, as if on cue, then held up the garment bag by the hanger, unzipped it, and together they extracted an ancient wedding dress, which he turned front and back, to display in all its grandeur.

El Virus beamed, wet-eyed, as she turned to Mary. "Mary, I would be so happy if you would wear my wedding dress on your wedding day, as a special birthday present from a new daughter to a new mother."

Mary's mouth went dry. She didn't know why El Virus wanted her to wear Sc.u.mbag's dress, but she wasn't about to ask. The dress wasn't merely outdated, but simply the ugliest wedding dress Mary had ever seen, no matter what the era. It looked like South Philly meets Gone with the Wind, with an immensely puffy skirt with equally poufy sleeves and a bodice of heavily beaded white lace, so bright it could illuminate the dining room, if not the tri-state area. Ma.s.sively ruffled chiffon flowers ringed the scoop neckline, like a series of timed chemical explosions. A thick band of beads at the waistline guaranteed a dangerously diminished oxygen supply, and a billowing bustle in back looked like a second derriere. Hanging behind the dress was a beaded lace train long enough to be Amtrak's Acela from Washington, D.C., to Boston.

Anthony's mouth dropped open. "Mom, that's very nice of you, but Mary might want to pick out her own dress. She'd be happy if you went with them, though. Wouldn't that be fun? You girls can make a day of it, maybe have lunch?"

El Virus dismissed him with a wave. "But a dress like that wouldn't have any sentimental meaning. This dress has sentimental meaning between me and Mary."

Dom nodded, eyeing the dress in wonderment. "I totally agree with Ma. This dress, it's got a lot of meaning. Plus it's so beautiful. Look at alla these flowers and everything. It's got things going on, everywhere you look. You couldn't buy a dress like this today, even if you tried." Dom faced Mary. "You know what I'm sayin', Mare?"

"Yes." Mary nodded slowly, entering a fashion coma. "There's no way you could buy a dress like that today."

"They don't make them like they used to," Elvira jumped in, like a tag team. "Anthony, you shouldn't answer for Mary, just because you're going to be her husband. She's a modern woman, a career girl, a lawyer. That's why she's going to keep her own name. So let her speak for herself."

Mary swallowed hard, dumbfounded. She didn't want to crush Elvira on her birthday or she would have simply answered no. In fact, there were so many ways to say no that she didn't know where to begin. She could simply vomit, but that wasn't a realistic option. She was about to speak when El Virus held up her index finger.

"Wait, no, Mare. Don't say nothin' 'til you see the headpiece."

"Headpiece?" Mary asked, in horror.

Chapter Thirty-seven.

"What was I supposed to say?" Mary said later, turning to Anthony in the car. They'd just left El Virus's house and the wedding dress debacle. "I couldn't say yes, but I said no in the nicest way possible."

"You could have said no. Just, no." The Prius was dark in the interior, but Mary could see his handsome profile in the lights from the dashboard. She knew by the press of his lips that he was upset, and so was she.

"I did say no."

"No, you didn't, not exactly. You said 'no, but I'll keep an open mind.'"

"That's exactly what I said. So, I said no."

"That is not exactly no."

"Yes, it is."

"No. It's 'no, but.'" Anthony steered the car expertly through the warren of one-way streets of the neighborhood, and Mary felt grateful every time they drove home that she didn't have to direct him.

"Saying that I'll keep an open mind doesn't negate the 'no.' The 'no' still stands, so I said 'no.'"

"You're talking like a lawyer."

"Can you blame me?" Mary shot back, more sharply than she intended, and Anthony looked over, stung, at the stop sign.

"Honey, I'm really sorry that happened. I had no idea she was going to ask you that. I told you before, I thought she was going to ask you to go dress shopping."

"I know, and I didn't mean to snap at you." Mary couldn't tell if they were in a fight or not, but the conversation felt like just another wedding headache. She was dying to talk this over with Judy, but her best friend still hadn't called back and Mary wondered if they were in a fight, too.

"I tried running interference for you, that's why I jumped in."

"I realize that, and I appreciate it." Mary glanced out the window, and the street was dark, illuminated only by the flickering TV sets in everyone's front window, like South Philly lightning.

"You're allowed to say 'no, thank you.'"

"I didn't think I could say no in that situation. It's her dress, it was her birthday, and it's your mother, for G.o.d's sake."

"I understand, and that's why I know with her you have to say no. No. No. No." Anthony hit the gas, his tone exasperated. "With her, if there's any opening at all, she drives the wedge. Dom and I talk about the wedge all the time."

"What's the wedge?" Mary would've laughed, under other circ.u.mstances.

"The wedge is wiggle room. The wedge is uncertainty. The wedge is possibility."

"I didn't know about the wedge. How could I have known about the wedge?"

"You couldn't, but I'm telling you now, for the future." Anthony's tone wasn't angry, just exasperated. "Most people, if you said to them, 'no, but I'll keep an open mind,' they hear that you really don't want to do something and they let it go. That's how you are."

Mary nodded. She wondered if that's how Anthony was, too. Then she wondered if that was what she had really meant to say to his marriage proposal. No, but I'll keep an open mind.

"If you give my mother the wedge, she drives it in with a sledgehammer. She takes it as a yes." Anthony steered the car north on Broad Street toward Center City, and the round yellow clock atop City Hall glowed like a full moon.

"You think she thinks I'm wearing the dress?"

"I think she's going to work on you and try to make you wear the dress. She thinks it's just a matter of time until you say yes."

Mary moaned, and just then her BlackBerry started ringing. She slid it from her blazer pocket and checked the lighted screen, hoping it was Judy, but it was her father. She pressed Answer. "Hi, Pop."

"HOW YOU DOIN'?"