Chapter 12 #3
When Frankie got back to her apartment, her fur-babies were eagerly waiting for her near the door.
Frankie was always astonished at how they situated themselves right in the entryway.
There was no time for them to get to that particular spot at the click of the lock.
Or maybe they were quicker than she imagined.
But it was as if they sensed her walking into the lobby of her building and got ready to greet her.
She scooped Bandit in her arms, something he was only willing to tolerate for a minute—max.
He was a cuddle bug but not comfortable being raised off the ground by a human.
Sweet P was no different. She scooted out of Frankie’s arms as quickly as Frankie picked her up.
Yet she, too, was a cuddle bug. Both on their own terms.
Frankie hung her coat as the cats paraded toward the kitchen.
Frankie pulled her phone out of the same pocket where she stashed the piece of paper.
She called Giovanni to let him know she was home and would meet him at the restaurant within the hour.
She needed to feed the kitties, change her clothes, and process what she experienced an hour earlier, but she was immediately distracted with the almost complete memory book that was sitting on her dining table.
She was just waiting for Lucia to bring a few pins and ribbons.
When Frankie approached Lucia about being her “secret helper,” Lucia was thrilled to be included in the preparations.
Her son, Dominic, scanned all the photos Lucia could find.
There were close to one hundred. Frankie was grateful that Giovanni was able to help edit them.
Through her contacts with the art department, she was able to get the pages with photos printed ahead of time.
There were placeholders for Lucia’s final contributions with captions, ready to go.
Frankie was psyched at how beautiful the memory book turned out.
It was a twelve-by-twelve-inch tanned-leather book with a wraparound binding.
Leather strips on each side fastened together in a gold ring.
There was a three-ring binder inside, to give more space between pages for the ribbons Marco and Giovanni won when they were on the high-school football/soccer team.
Her plans for the final touches were dried sunflowers, wrapped in a newsprint copy of the day Rosevita and her husband were married and tied to the front with another leather strip, with Italian lira coins and U.S.
coins hanging from the top and bottom of the strip. She got goosebumps.
The cats were beginning to pace.
“Okay. Okay. Keep your mittens on. I’m coming.” Frankie laughed. As with every meal, they skirted between her ankles. “Stop messing with me, please. You don’t want mommy to trip.”
Bandit looked up at her as if to say, “Let’s get crackin’, lady.
” Frankie swore if Bandit wore a watch, he would tap it impatiently with his other paw.
Frankie often anthropomorphized animals and inanimate objects, giving them human attributes.
She would say “excuse me” if she bumped into a chair.
She got over worrying about what other people would think or say.
It amused her, and who couldn’t use a little amusement in their life?
Once the fur-babies were busy with their dinner, Frankie freshened up and slipped into a fresh pair of leggings and sweater. No boots this time. It was black athletic shoes.
When she arrived at the restaurant, the aroma from the kitchen was comforting and stimulating at the same time.
She didn’t have to see the menu. She must have eaten her way from antipasto to dolce over a hundred times.
Most of the time, she let either Marco or Giovanni choose for her.
They knew exactly what was going on in the kitchen.
Giovanni greeted her in the usual fashion: a kiss on each cheek, with one extra.
Her usual seat at her usual table was awaiting her arrival.
It felt like home. In many ways, it was.
It was where Giovanni and Marco grew up and worked in the family business all their lives.
They were raised in the apartments on the second floor, above the restaurant.
Giovanni still maintained an apartment there, but spent the nights at Frankie’s.
It was actually a good setup. Giovanni and Frankie had coffee together in the morning; then he would go back to his apartment to shower and get ready for work.
It was like having two separate bathrooms, except they were five blocks apart.
It suited Frankie fine. Giovanni often got off work at eleven at night, so Frankie could still have some “alone time” with her cats, reading a good book, or a watching a murder mystery show.
Giovanni brought two glasses of wine over to Frankie’s table and pulled out a chair. “May I?” he asked. Frankie was never quite sure if he was teasing, or if it was something ingrained. Manners . Yep, that’s what it was.
“Please,” she said, and smiled into his deep blue eyes.
Damn, he is good looking , she thought to herself and began to blush.
Frankie knew that he knew what he was doing: turning her into mush.
But then again, Giovanni wasn’t a player, a flirt, a manipulator.
He was genuine. Not perfect by any means, but a good man with good intentions.
Frankie counted her blessings every day.
The two proceeded to discuss their day, including the incident with Carol from the Salvation Army. Giovanni took Frankie’s hand. “You are an angel. Bellissima angela .”
Frankie chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Giovanni asked.
“I was thinking about how lucky I am, and you are just so, so … you! My life couldn’t get any more like a Hallmark movie if I wrote it myself!”
Giovanni cocked his head. “Hallmark?”
“It’s a movie channel and production company.
They make romantic movies and play them on their network.
I mean networks, plural.” She realized the conversation wasn’t going anywhere and decided to change it.
“I’m almost finished with the memory book.
Just waiting for Aunt Lucia to deliver the last odds and ends tomorrow. ”
“I am sending a car to pick them up from the airport. They’re arriving in Newark, so they’ll go to Marco’s.”
“Excellent. This way, Lucia can hand over the goods.”
Giovanni chuckled, then said, “I will bring the—what you call—goodies. I am going to Marco’s house to greet them. Say hello and then come back here, so Marco can help them get settled.”
“Good idea!” Frankie said, and smiled.
“So, tell me more about this poor woman today. You helped her, yes?”
“Yes, and then I forced her to go to St. Patrick’s with me.”
Giovanni laughed out loud. “You hijack this woman who was mugged? I am kidding. But it sounds a little funny, no? Comical , as you say.”
“When you put it that way,” Frankie said as her eyes went wide. “She must think I’m some kind of religious zealot!” Frankie’s expression turned to horror; her eyes widened further.
Giovanni was still chuckling. “Can you imagine if that woman called the police again?” At that point, his eyes were tearing from laughing so hard.
Frankie lowered her voice to impersonate a male officer, “Not your lucky day, ma’am.”
They realized their joviality was spilling over to the rest of the restaurant guests, who were laughing along with them. Giovanni raised his glass. “Cent’anni!” Then he motioned for the server to pour the other patrons a drink of their choice.
“You are the best host,” Frankie said, and placed her hand on his arm. “So, tell me, when the boyfriends arrive, where are they going to stay?” she said, and raised her eyebrows.
Giovanni grinned and shrugged. “I no ask.”
“Okey dokey, then. Let’s talk about New Year’s Eve.
I know we’re a little late, but there seems to have been a lot going on with everyone.
I’m not sure what will be available, but Matt suggested we make a reservation at Del Frisco’s Grille.
It will be like a private party but with other people that you don’t know. ”
“Are you not tired of being around Rockefeller Center?” he asked.
“Not this time of year. Besides, I don’t think Amy and Peter have seen the tree yet.”
“Sounds perfetto ,” Giovanni replied. “Will everybody be there?”
Frankie began to count. “Amy, Peter, Nina, Richard, Rachael plus someone, you, me, and your mom and Lucia, along with the Parisi brothers, if they want to come.”
“Nice. Good. Who is Rachael’s plus someone?” he asked.
“That remains to be seen,” Frankie said, and chortled.
“As always!” Giovanni said, raising his glass.
When Frankie finished her dinner, she said goodnight to the staff and walked to her apartment.
Giovanni would catch up with her after he closed.
Frankie got home, changed into her pajamas, washed her face, and made a cup of tea.
She padded into the living room, sat cross-legged on the floor with her back resting against the sofa.
She clicked on the television and got a glimpse of the local news.
She shot upright when she heard of a second mugging of a Salvation Army collection worker.
This time it was in the Bronx. She knew they had to be connected.
She felt it in her gut. Two Santa thieves in one day?
Was it the same person, or was it a ring of rotten Santas?
The news broadcaster did not mention the one earlier.
Perhaps they didn’t know? The two stories had not been tied together.
On the one hand, it made sense. The Manhattan division may not have entered the information into the system by the time the second robbery occurred.
Frankie pulled up a map app on her phone and typed in both areas.
She couldn’t make a connection. Maybe it was simply a coincidence.