The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,113

these things because she looked genuinely shocked. It was a life-changing moment for her, I’m sure. She’ll be coming into our tasting room as soon as we’re open again. I offered her a free bottle of oil, but she said she couldn’t take bribes. Not that I had offered a bribe, it was simply a free bottle of oil. Geez, they’re so touchy.”

I didn’t know how to react to this. I thought she would be terrified over her potential fate, but instead she was busy pitching.

When was I ever going to learn that my mom always made the best out of whatever situation she landed in?

“Benny says he’ll get you out of here in time for the card game.”

“Good to know because that bed is a bitch and gave me a backache. I wouldn’t want to sleep on it for too many nights. No wonder some of these people in here are so cranky, everybody’s suffering from lower back pain.”

I didn’t think this was exactly the reason, but who was I to argue with my mom about such things. So far, I was probably the only one in my family who hadn’t slept on a prison bunk, and I intended to keep it that way.

“Mom, I have a couple questions for you.”

She leaned in closer. “I think they monitor these things. Maybe we should wait until I’m sprung.”

“This can’t wait, Mom. I need to know now.”

“Okay, but let’s whisper. It’ll be tougher for anyone to pick up what we’re saying.”

Anything to get her to open up.

I leaned in as close to the window speaker as I could. “Do you know anything about Dickey’s ring?”

“It belongs to your dad.”

I was confused. How did she know this and why was she talking about him as if she knew he was alive?

“Is that true?” I asked.

“Why would I say it if it wasn’t?”

“You’re using present tense when you’re referring to dad. You never did that before.”

“I am? Huh, the things you pick up on.”

“Mom, what does it mean?”

“What does what mean? Mia, we only have a short time. You should at least try to ask questions I can understand.”

I sighed.

“Mom, yesterday I learned that Dad is alive. Did you already know this?”

She leaned in closer, her head bobbing up to see me. “Yes. Isn’t it fabulous? Giuseppe told me after the meeting.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I said in a normal voice.

“I would have, but you’re always so busy. I can never get a moment alone with you.”

I narrowed my eyes. If I wasn’t inside a jail I would have screamed. “Mom, we’re alone now, sort of. Tell me everything you know about that ring.”

She let out a frustrated heavy sigh. “Now pay attention, sweetheart, so I don’t have to repeat myself. That ring once belonged to your great-grandfather, who gave it to your grandfather, who then passed it down to your dad. My great-grandfather passed down cuckoo clocks, but your dad’s great-grandfather passed down his ring.”

“There has to be more to it than just a ring that gets passed down through generations.”

“Of course there is, dear. Don’t be so impatient.” She took in a deep breath and continued. “Apparently, your grandfather, Dino, pulled the ring off his finger right before he died on the street in Cosenza from a bullet during a feud with another family. Anyway, both Federico and your dad were there. Federico was just a little boy then, so I don’t think he even understood what was going on. According to your dad, Dino ripped the ring off his finger, handed it to your dad, and made him promise to guard it with his life. Then the old man croaks right there in your dad’s arms, but he has the ring as a keepsake. About fifteen years later, the damn thing gets stolen. Don’t you remember it?”

I tried to think back, and once again I kind of remembered the ring, but not on Dad’s finger. It was on somebody else’s finger, and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t remember who that could have been.

“No,” I told her.

“Well, he didn’t wear it very often. He thought it was bad luck. Both your grandfather and your great-grandfather were killed while they wore that ring. Granted, your great-grandfather was killed in a freak olive picking accident, but he died wearing the ring and your dad couldn’t get past that fact.

“Anyway, like I said, somebody stole it while your dad lived with us, then years later it turned up on Carla’s finger,