A Mobster's Menu for Mother's Day Brunch by Beth Mathison Page B

this tiny food.”
    “Well, the olives were from the Cincinnati shipment,” Harry said. “The mini quiches were from Denver, the cocktail wieners from Seattle, and the mini sliders from Washington, DC. The surplus Easter bunnies and decorations came from Dubuque, and the SpongeBob tablecloths and napkins are from Orlando.” He turned to Aunt Shirley and lowered his voice. “A lot fell off trucks this week.”
    “Isn’t that nice,” Aunt Shirley said. “We have a wonderful representation of the entire nation. And in miniature to boot. I think it’s charming.”
    Aunt Shirley spooned a small pile of cocktail wieners on her plate then turned to Jeremy. “So, I hear your mom is enjoying her little vacation in St. Barts.”
    “She’s having a marvelous time,” Jeremy said. “She called this morning, feeling guilty that she was away during Mother’s Day. I told her to have a wonderful day.”
    “You’re such a good son,” Aunt Shirley said. “All right, before we eat I have some announcements to make.”
    Aunt Shirley tapped her water glass lightly with her spoon, clearing her throat.
    “Does that mean somebody has to kiss?” Harry asked. “I think somebody has to kiss.”
    “That’s for a wedding ,” Charlie said, giving him a disgusted look. “The only person you’re required to kiss on Mother’s Day is your mother.”
    “This is new,” Mary Charlotte said. “We usually don’t have announcements before we eat. Is it like a prayer? Should we have our hands folded?”
    “Hand folding is not necessary,” Aunt Shirley replied. “Unless you really want to fold your hands. Then, by all means, go ahead.”
    Charlie respectfully folded his hands.
    Conversation went on loudly, and Aunt Shirley gave Uncle Tommy a look. Uncle Tommy, barely fitting his muscular body in the banquet chair, tapped his spoon gently on his glass. “Excuse me,” he said.
    Both tables instantly fell silent, and everyone looked at Aunt Shirley.
    “I’d like to take this moment to thank everyone for coming today,” Aunt Shirley said. “We all know how important family is. Although the entire family couldn’t be here today, it’s always good to see so many of you. We’re kind of an eclectic group this Mother’s Day. Jeremy’s mother is enjoying her time in St. Barts thanks to Vito Spimoni.”
    Jeremy leaned close to Carla. “Since my dad died, Vito’s always looked after my mom. Sent her an all-expense paid vacation to the islands.”
    “I didn’t know running numbers had such a good benefits plan,” Carla said quietly.
    Aunt Shirley cleared her throat. “We’ve got a group of children here so their mothers can take a break at the shore. Or…wherever they went. So although we have no true mother-and-child combinations here, we still have the spirit of motherhood with us.”
    “Especially with Mary Charlotte, who was almost a saint,” Harry said, folding his hands in reverence and bowing his head. “We could almost call her Mother Mary Charlotte.”
    “I was in training to be a nun, not a saint,” Mary Charlotte reminded him. “Can you be in training for a saint? I’m not sure what the commandment is on that one.”
    Aunt Shirley ignored them and continued. “Thank you, Uncle Frank, for coordinating the room, and Harry and Charlie for providing the food and decorations.”
    “Here, here,” Uncle Frank said, lifting his glass. “To mothers everywhere.” Everyone drank, then conversation continued at a dull roar. Someone had untied Stephen, and he quieted the kids down by showing them all how to stick spoons on their noses.
    “What’s this?” Betty asked, holding up another puff pastry. Her voice carried across the entire table. “I don’t know what this is.”
    “It’s an hors d’oeuvre,” Harry responded loudly. “It’s miniature French food.”
    “I know what hors d’oeuvres are, you dolt,” Betty said. “I spent a year in France while my Stanley had to leave the country due to legality