doll,” she sighed. “That’s not what I meant. Silly. You’re pretty saucy too. I like that in a gal. Let me help you, if I can. I know the neighborhood. Who are you looking for?”
I moved my foot back and forth against the cement. What could it hurt? Perhaps she knew where Brando lived. “A man. Brando. Brando Fausti.”
The wallet fell out of her hands. Her face seemed to turn to stone. “What do you want with my son? We have no bunnies here!”
“Your son?” The words came out automatically, followed by the thought, bunnies?
She nodded. Now she swallowed hard. “He doesn’t usually like for—for women—to come here.”
I threw my bag to the ground and removed the jacket. Things had become awkward fast. I held it out to her. She blinked at my face, looked at the jacket, and then her eyes met mine. She looked younger, more vulnerable, when she gazed up through her thick lashes. In fact, she seemed too young to be his mother in general.
“Where did you get this?” she whispered. She took the jacket gently out of my grasp, running her hands over the leather in a reverent manner.
“Brando,” I reflected her whisper. But I had said his name so low that she glanced at me. “Brando,” I repeated louder. “He gave it to me. A few years ago. I wanted to return it. Actually, he told me to.”
Her eyes welled up. She tucked her lips in for a moment, before she released them. She turned the jacket over in her hands, pulling the tag on the collar forward.
A big M was scrolled over the designer’s mark—some expensive Italian designer—and I had taken a pen and marked S in a free area. I had no idea who the M belonged to, but at the time a statement from me felt needed, since it was mine—or so I had thought.
I had an inkling now who the M belonged to.
She took a deep breath and blew it out. She sniffled. “I did this.” She smiled through tears, holding the jacket up. “Many, many years ago. Or what feels like many, many years ago to me.” A trembling finger caressed her fancy M.
I picked up my bag once more and settled it on my shoulder. “Please give that back to Brando. With the message that I returned what was his.”
Maggie’s eyes searched mine for a moment before she handed the jacket back to me. “Can you stay, Doll?”
I stood there for a moment, not able to move, holding the jacket to my heart. “I should probably—” I looked toward the road.
“Please? Your gorgeous hair is all wet. So are your clothes. It’s warm inside.”
I made my mind up, just by the tone of her voice. “All right.” I took a step forward. “But only for a minute.”
Chapter Seven
Scarlett
The moment I stepped foot over the threshold of Brando’s front door, Maggie Beautiful seemed to find her buoyancy again. She wasn’t as peppy as she had been, but she seemed to be recovering without much issue.
I followed behind her, mesmerized by her sultry walk in the dazzling showgirl outfit. The interior of the house was dim, shadows stretching at every turn, but Maggie Beautiful’s sequins, and the lightness in the air around her, challenged the morose mood of the day.
The smell of cake baking became even stronger inside than it had been as a passing echo outside; it emitted a certain kind of warmth that screamed home.
I didn’t have to follow behind her for long; their house was quaint. Maggie Beautiful stopped and motioned for me to put my bag on the worn leather sofa in the front room. To the left was a dining area just big enough for a circular table. Straight ahead was a small kitchen, which seemed to lead out to the backyard.
If I moved to the right, past the sofa, a hallway seemed to have three doors—two bedrooms and one bathroom, I guessed. Behind the sofa were five built-in shelves, each one decorated with a bunch of different glass or porcelain figurines. They ranged in shape from cars to people to animals.
I couldn’t help but think that Maggie Beautiful’s decor would be my mother’s worst nightmare.
Nothing seemed to coexist in harmony. It was a bit of this—velour curtains of eggplant hung in the front room, while curtains of a sunny yellow glowed in the kitchen—and that—not a piece of furniture had a sister or brother to match, but they formed a collaboration of friends made