the T-Bird, and a brown pelican perched atop the wood railing nearby flapped clumsily off, disturbed by our intrusion. “Nice ride,” Eric said.
I smiled and searched for the car keys in my bag. “Yep, real nice. But I’ve gotta say, I’m having a hard time getting used to the idea of it. It’s still very much Aunt Letta’s car to me.”
“She’d be glad you were using it, I’m sure.” Eric ran his fingers along the ridge of the left fin. “Very Jetsons. I hope the ragtop keeps the rain out.”
The showers had now slowed to a drizzle, but I quickly unlocked my door and slid behind the wheel. “So far, it seems to work pretty well,” I said, pulling the door shut and cranking down the window.
Eric buttoned his coat and turned up the collar. “Getting back to Javier and Tony,” he said, “it does sound like there’s reason for jealousy on both sides—even if it’s not rational. Jealousy often isn’t. And it’s a nasty emotion. Especially when mixed with your dad’s cheap Chianti.”
I reached through the window and poked him in the ribs, even though I agreed that the wine had been pretty bad. “Look, I am going to ask Javier about him and Tony; don’t worry. I just need to find the right time.”
Eric nodded. “So does it surprise you? Javier being in love with her?”
It had, actually. And when I’d first heard it from Tony, I thought Letta must have been mistaken about Javier’s feelings. But after talking to Javier the other night at the restaurant and seeing his face when I brought up the subject, I realized that it made a lot of sense.
“Well,” I said, “she was really kind to him when he first started at the restaurant. I think he’d only recently arrived from Mexico, and she sort of took him under her wing. And it’s been, what, almost seven years they’ve known each other? They must have become pretty close, working together like that for so long. And even though she was a lot older than him, she was still quite the looker.”
An image of my aunt flashed through my brain—cruising down the road in her yellow convertible, red sunglasses on, ebony hair shot through with silver streaming back in the wind. “I bet he’s been smitten with her for some time.”
Chapter Ten
The next afternoon, I called my father. We’d decided it would be best to skip Nonna’s Sunday dinner this week; after the wake, funeral, and repast, it just would have been too much for her. So I figured he’d probably be at home zoning out, watching golf or baseball on TV. I’d be seeing him that night at Solari’s but still wanted to check in beforehand.
He picked up after the fourth ring, slightly out of breath. “Hi, hon. I was out back trying to prop up that rotted part of the fence down by the tool shed. With all this rain, it’s starting to really sag.”
“Oh, sorry to make you have to rush in. I just wanted to see how you’re doing, since we didn’t talk after the repast.”
“Okay, I guess. It seems like it all went pretty smoothly yesterday, especially given the rain an’ all.” He seemed to be acting completely normal with me, as if nothing had happened between us. Well, if he was going to just let it slide, I guessed I’d do the same.
“Up till the end,” he added. “What the hell is up with those two—Tony and Javier? Fighting like that? At Letta’s repast ?”
“Yeah, that was pretty bad. I’m not exactly sure what that was all about, but I think there may have been a jealousy thing going on between them. Over Letta. Which doesn’t excuse it, of course.”
“Sure doesn’t. And Jesus, with her killer still out there somewhere? Makes ya wonder if maybe one of them . . .”
I let this unfinished sentence hang there in space, having nothing reassuring to say in response.
After we hung up, I spent the afternoon vegged out on my couch watching the Giants beat the Padres one to zip. Nothing like a good pitching duel and a cold bottle of Heineken to take your mind off
I smiled and searched for the car keys in my bag. “Yep, real nice. But I’ve gotta say, I’m having a hard time getting used to the idea of it. It’s still very much Aunt Letta’s car to me.”
“She’d be glad you were using it, I’m sure.” Eric ran his fingers along the ridge of the left fin. “Very Jetsons. I hope the ragtop keeps the rain out.”
The showers had now slowed to a drizzle, but I quickly unlocked my door and slid behind the wheel. “So far, it seems to work pretty well,” I said, pulling the door shut and cranking down the window.
Eric buttoned his coat and turned up the collar. “Getting back to Javier and Tony,” he said, “it does sound like there’s reason for jealousy on both sides—even if it’s not rational. Jealousy often isn’t. And it’s a nasty emotion. Especially when mixed with your dad’s cheap Chianti.”
I reached through the window and poked him in the ribs, even though I agreed that the wine had been pretty bad. “Look, I am going to ask Javier about him and Tony; don’t worry. I just need to find the right time.”
Eric nodded. “So does it surprise you? Javier being in love with her?”
It had, actually. And when I’d first heard it from Tony, I thought Letta must have been mistaken about Javier’s feelings. But after talking to Javier the other night at the restaurant and seeing his face when I brought up the subject, I realized that it made a lot of sense.
“Well,” I said, “she was really kind to him when he first started at the restaurant. I think he’d only recently arrived from Mexico, and she sort of took him under her wing. And it’s been, what, almost seven years they’ve known each other? They must have become pretty close, working together like that for so long. And even though she was a lot older than him, she was still quite the looker.”
An image of my aunt flashed through my brain—cruising down the road in her yellow convertible, red sunglasses on, ebony hair shot through with silver streaming back in the wind. “I bet he’s been smitten with her for some time.”
Chapter Ten
The next afternoon, I called my father. We’d decided it would be best to skip Nonna’s Sunday dinner this week; after the wake, funeral, and repast, it just would have been too much for her. So I figured he’d probably be at home zoning out, watching golf or baseball on TV. I’d be seeing him that night at Solari’s but still wanted to check in beforehand.
He picked up after the fourth ring, slightly out of breath. “Hi, hon. I was out back trying to prop up that rotted part of the fence down by the tool shed. With all this rain, it’s starting to really sag.”
“Oh, sorry to make you have to rush in. I just wanted to see how you’re doing, since we didn’t talk after the repast.”
“Okay, I guess. It seems like it all went pretty smoothly yesterday, especially given the rain an’ all.” He seemed to be acting completely normal with me, as if nothing had happened between us. Well, if he was going to just let it slide, I guessed I’d do the same.
“Up till the end,” he added. “What the hell is up with those two—Tony and Javier? Fighting like that? At Letta’s repast ?”
“Yeah, that was pretty bad. I’m not exactly sure what that was all about, but I think there may have been a jealousy thing going on between them. Over Letta. Which doesn’t excuse it, of course.”
“Sure doesn’t. And Jesus, with her killer still out there somewhere? Makes ya wonder if maybe one of them . . .”
I let this unfinished sentence hang there in space, having nothing reassuring to say in response.
After we hung up, I spent the afternoon vegged out on my couch watching the Giants beat the Padres one to zip. Nothing like a good pitching duel and a cold bottle of Heineken to take your mind off
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