The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,35

a row. Was my mom’s weapon still at the bottom of a futso or had that been removed as well? It was as if nothing had ever happened.

The site was so startling that I half expected to see Dickey standing next to my mom wearing a wide toothy grin.

I was dumbstruck.

Cool-headed Lisa spoke for me. “Can we get in on the joke or is this a private matter?”

“Oh honey, you had to be here,” my mom said, and they all started laughing again, my mom really getting into it with tears in her eyes to prove it.

I, in the meantime, was busy checking out the floor, the table, under the table for any trace of a murder, but the place looked cleaner than it normally did. Everything was spotless, too spotless, as if an entire crew of janitors swept through for some kind of cleanliness inspection.

My mind drifted to the old olive tree just outside the barn. Had Dickey been moved out there? Was he now one with nature? The visual made me a bit claustrophobic, not to mention angry that my family had taken matters into their own hands despite my adamant opposition to the entire affair.

“Wow,” Nick said after the laughter finally subsided. He was staring directly in front of the antique millstone, the now totally reassembled antique millstone.

The same mill that had crushed Dickey under its incredible weight, and the same mill that Dickey himself had imported from Italy. “Is this what you use to crush the olives?” Nick walked in to get a closer look.

“We’d never have gone commercial if we used that old thing,” Mom said. “No, that’s just for show.” She turned to me. “Mia, sweetheart, I thought we agreed to move it out front? Wasn’t somebody out here just yesterday tearing it down? Did you change your mind?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “No, yes, I mean, hmmm. I don’t know exactly what happened with that. Maybe the guys couldn’t figure it out. It’s kind of complicated.”

Nick studied the mechanism. “It seems like it’s just a couple long screws. The trick is handling the weight once the stone is free. You’ll need four strong men to lift this wheel. No one guy could move this alone.”

“A forklift with a large bed could handle it. I’ve got one. You want me to send somebody over tomorrow to move it?”

“That would be so nice of you, Leonardo. Mia’s been wanting this thing moved for months now.” She turned to me. “Isn’t he a dear?”

I smiled. “A dear, but thanks. We have a forklift of our own.”

In the meantime, Nick busied himself studying the granite millstone, running his hand over the edge of the wheel, getting up close and personal. As if he sensed something wasn’t quite right about it. The whole thing was making me nuts. The guy was like a bloodhound, sniffing for a scent to run with. He walked around the backside of wheel, which was almost as tall as he was. In the meantime, Mom kept talking to Leo about her latest olive oil, and the fact that our Sevillano had won the Los Angeles International Extra Virgin Olive Oil competition three years running. “Take a couple bottles. It’s fabulous on toast instead of that artery clogging butter. Plus, you can drizzle it on a fresh baby spinach salad, add some candied pecans, a few slices of ripe pear, sprinkle on a good pungent gorgonzola, maybe a few dried cranberries or pomegranate seeds for color, then pour on our white balsamic vinegar and you’ll have a salad to die for.”

“Sounds incredible, especially with a glass of our Shiraz.” He bunched his fingers together and kissed them looking oh-so-Italian. “Perfecto!”

I tracked Nick who was still busy studying the stone. “Huh,” he said.

I could feel the sudden tightness crawling up the left side of my neck.

“Find something interesting?” Lisa asked.

I threw her a “what the hell are you doing” look. She ignored me and moved toward him.

“When did you say that guy was trying to dismantle this thing?” Nick peeked around the wheel, apparently asking me.

My mouth suddenly felt thick. “I believe it was yesterday. Why?”

He fingered the stone, but didn’t answer my question.

“Two men stopped by today, honey,” my mother said. “Late this afternoon. I completely forgot about that. Two darling men, before you came home, wanting to take another look. I don’t know what they did in here. I was too busy with last minute party details, but they were in