hand away, and sat back in the rocker. A triumphant look crossed her face. “That’s all in the past, Mia. We’re so over all that crime business. This family’s been through counseling!”
Mom looked at me as if I was completely out of the game. As if I should suddenly see the score and agree with her sound reasoning, but I couldn’t. Not where Dickey was concerned. After a moment, when I didn’t respond, she said, “I have far too much to do today to talk about this any longer. Could you please be a darling and run to the bank for me? I need some documents out of our box. Your Uncle Benny needs to go over a few things. Plus, I think a family meeting may be in order to discuss a couple details. I really have to start calling everybody as soon as I finish this lovely espresso you made me.”
I sat back and sipped my tea. I never could understand my mother’s reasoning, but I took comfort in knowing that this was true for most daughters throughout the world. None of us would ever be able to figure these women out. Mothers operated on some other frequency, and, according to one of my many past therapists, until I was a mother, I should stop bashing my head against that wall.
Fine.
But what was clawing at me at the moment was her sudden need for Uncle Benny, who wasn’t really an uncle. He was more of a family friend who used to be a lawyer for the Genetti crime family out of Chicago until Benny was forced into giving up incriminating information to the Feds in the late 80s. Most of the Genettis went to prison and Uncle Benny went undercover for awhile, hated it and came back out eight years ago when Mom took over this olive orchard. He’d been instrumental in getting the grove going again, helped plant a couple hundred trees, pruned them in the spring and helped with the harvest and the crush, like we all did.
“Mamma, is there something you’re not telling me?” I thought I’d give this thing one more try.
“Just be a good girl and get my papers. Oh, and Dickey’s ring. I kept it safe for him. It’s a gold and diamond pinky ring in the shape of a horseshoe.”
I hated when she shut me out.
“Fine. I have to go to Readers bookstore anyway. Lisa’s having a signing.” Lisa Lin was my best friend, and a best-selling author. “I’ll get the papers and the ring, but whatever this is about can probably be handled by our local law firm.” I found myself clutching my tea mug so tight my hands were beginning to hurt.
“All lawyers are crooks.”
I had to grin at that one. “Oh, and Benny isn’t?”
“He’s family, that’s different.”
Now why didn’t that give me any sense of comfort? I needed to tell her how wrong headed she was, how this whole thing sounded dicey, or at the very least, odd. Why would Dickey want her to throw him a party? Why here? And why tonight? She just wasn’t thinking clearly. Probably caught up in the excitement of the moment. My mother loved parties. The whole family did, but something about this party stunk, and it was my duty as her daughter to warn her of the endless complications of Dickey’s return.
I took a deep breath and said, “But—”
She held out a hand, a warning shot that I shouldn’t go any further. She’d been giving me “the hand” ever since I was a little girl, and even though I had grown way past puberty, Mom’s hand still had an effect on me.
I caved, resigned to fate.
“Please, just get the papers and bring them home. I already phoned Benny and he’ll be here in a couple hours.” She took another sip of espresso, a loud one this time, and her hand shook as she held the tiny cup to her melon colored lips.
“Mom, you’re shaking. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
She smiled one of those phony grins she slapped on her face whenever she was reeling on the inside and didn’t want anyone to know. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Everything’s perfect. I’ve just had too much espresso is all. Besides, if there is something wrong, and there’s not, Benny will take care of it. Just bring me my papers.” She gazed out the window for a moment then her entire demeanor turned deadly serious. “I only hope that bastard doesn’t try anything funny with