adjusted her eye patch.
"So, girls, how we gonna kill Angelina's husband this week?" Frankie asked, passing the dish of cannoli around a second time.
"What about poisoning his favorite dessert?" I suggested.
The women all laughed. "We tried that years ago. Don't you watch CSI: NY ? It's got to look like an accident."
"Tito didn't come for dinner. The kids called him a dozen times, but he won't answer. It's not like him."
"Do you think he's gambling again?" Olympia asked.
"Maybe. Some fat guy driving a Mercedes came by the house looking for him. He reeked. Who wears Old Spice anymore?"
I glanced over at Frankie.
"Debt collectors," Frankie said, smiling.
Â
* * *
Â
A week before Christmas, Frankie invited me to stay the week at her house after I confessed that all I did was listen to the blues and cry into several glasses of red wine every night. Neither of us felt like traveling during the holidays and we didn't want to be alone. Her sons worked on the holidays and at most dropped by for a glass of wine and a quick meal. My husband and I were both orphans and never had children. I felt so alone in the world without him. We made a few friends over the years among our colleagues, but they were all couples.
Frankie was surprised when her son Gianni called to say he wanted her to meet his girlfriend. She invited them over for cannoli and coffee the day I arrived.
When Gianni told his mother his girlfriend's name, Luzette, she thought the girl was French. He didn't tell her she was black.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dacosta, Mrs. Greene," the petite caramel-colored girl whispered.
"Mrs. Dacosta was my mother-in-law. Francesca was my mother's little girl. Call me Frankie and speak up."
" Ma! A pleasure, Mrs. Greene," Gianni said, shaking my hand and grinning like he'd won the lottery as he looked back and forth between me and his mother. The ladies were right, he was movie-star handsome and the young lady he brought home looked like a model. I felt sorry for that pretty little whispery girl, not because Frankie was mean but because it couldn't have been easy meeting the mother of a man who was so clearly a mama's boy. Gianni hung their coats and scarves on a hook by the front door.
Frankie led us into the dining room we had spent all day decorating with garlands of fake holly and bowls of silver balls. She picked up the platter and offered Luzette a cannoli. The girl took a small bite.
"The cannoli . . . It's . . ."
"I know. Pretty good, huh?" Gianni mumbled through a mouthful.
"I don't think I've ever tasted anything so good. How do you make them?"
"I'd have toâ"
"Ma, let's install the Madonna," Gianni cut in before his mother could threaten the life of his beloved.
"Tonight? It'll be dark soon."
"I know, but let's do it now. You know I don't have much time during the week, and weekends . . ."
"Yeah, I can see you've been busy." Frankie eyed the girl up and down.
"Ma, do you mind if I check the scores?"
"No, the remote is on the shelf behind the TV."
"Why do you put it there?"
"I get exercise when I change the channels."
Gianni turned on the TV, then flipped through the channels. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for.
"I'm getting you a satellite dish for Christmas," he said.
"Get yourself aâ" Frankie's mouth opened, eyes wide. She stared at the TV as if the Holy Mother herself had appeared on the screen.
"The body of a man missing since late fall was found at the Staten Island dump this morning. He allegedly fell asleep in a dumpster and was crushed nearly beyond recognition by the industrial compactor at the Fresh Kills Landfill. The body has been identified as Tito . . ."
"Angelina's Christmas present!" Frankie exclaimed, then powered off the TV.
At that moment the kitchen phone rang. Gianni practically ran to answer it. A few minutes later he came back into the dining room buttoning up his coat.
"Ma, we gotta go. Cicero's truck broke down on the Verrazano Bridge. We'll be
"So, girls, how we gonna kill Angelina's husband this week?" Frankie asked, passing the dish of cannoli around a second time.
"What about poisoning his favorite dessert?" I suggested.
The women all laughed. "We tried that years ago. Don't you watch CSI: NY ? It's got to look like an accident."
"Tito didn't come for dinner. The kids called him a dozen times, but he won't answer. It's not like him."
"Do you think he's gambling again?" Olympia asked.
"Maybe. Some fat guy driving a Mercedes came by the house looking for him. He reeked. Who wears Old Spice anymore?"
I glanced over at Frankie.
"Debt collectors," Frankie said, smiling.
Â
* * *
Â
A week before Christmas, Frankie invited me to stay the week at her house after I confessed that all I did was listen to the blues and cry into several glasses of red wine every night. Neither of us felt like traveling during the holidays and we didn't want to be alone. Her sons worked on the holidays and at most dropped by for a glass of wine and a quick meal. My husband and I were both orphans and never had children. I felt so alone in the world without him. We made a few friends over the years among our colleagues, but they were all couples.
Frankie was surprised when her son Gianni called to say he wanted her to meet his girlfriend. She invited them over for cannoli and coffee the day I arrived.
When Gianni told his mother his girlfriend's name, Luzette, she thought the girl was French. He didn't tell her she was black.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dacosta, Mrs. Greene," the petite caramel-colored girl whispered.
"Mrs. Dacosta was my mother-in-law. Francesca was my mother's little girl. Call me Frankie and speak up."
" Ma! A pleasure, Mrs. Greene," Gianni said, shaking my hand and grinning like he'd won the lottery as he looked back and forth between me and his mother. The ladies were right, he was movie-star handsome and the young lady he brought home looked like a model. I felt sorry for that pretty little whispery girl, not because Frankie was mean but because it couldn't have been easy meeting the mother of a man who was so clearly a mama's boy. Gianni hung their coats and scarves on a hook by the front door.
Frankie led us into the dining room we had spent all day decorating with garlands of fake holly and bowls of silver balls. She picked up the platter and offered Luzette a cannoli. The girl took a small bite.
"The cannoli . . . It's . . ."
"I know. Pretty good, huh?" Gianni mumbled through a mouthful.
"I don't think I've ever tasted anything so good. How do you make them?"
"I'd have toâ"
"Ma, let's install the Madonna," Gianni cut in before his mother could threaten the life of his beloved.
"Tonight? It'll be dark soon."
"I know, but let's do it now. You know I don't have much time during the week, and weekends . . ."
"Yeah, I can see you've been busy." Frankie eyed the girl up and down.
"Ma, do you mind if I check the scores?"
"No, the remote is on the shelf behind the TV."
"Why do you put it there?"
"I get exercise when I change the channels."
Gianni turned on the TV, then flipped through the channels. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for.
"I'm getting you a satellite dish for Christmas," he said.
"Get yourself aâ" Frankie's mouth opened, eyes wide. She stared at the TV as if the Holy Mother herself had appeared on the screen.
"The body of a man missing since late fall was found at the Staten Island dump this morning. He allegedly fell asleep in a dumpster and was crushed nearly beyond recognition by the industrial compactor at the Fresh Kills Landfill. The body has been identified as Tito . . ."
"Angelina's Christmas present!" Frankie exclaimed, then powered off the TV.
At that moment the kitchen phone rang. Gianni practically ran to answer it. A few minutes later he came back into the dining room buttoning up his coat.
"Ma, we gotta go. Cicero's truck broke down on the Verrazano Bridge. We'll be
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