Chapter 26 #2
Of course he’ll be wearing it.
In fact, if I wanted to take it away from him, I’d have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.
Let’s not stoop to murder.
I have a lot to tell you.
Hopefully it’s that you finally decided to enjoy yourself and not that I need to buy a shovel.
The nonnas leave early with Theo to set up a booth for Evergreens & Apples, and by the time Giovanni drives us downtown, the festival is jam-packed with cars and people on foot.
Several people peer into the windows of the Range Rover and wave at us before turning to whisper to their companions.
They’re probably gossiping about the fire.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I say with a sigh as Giovanni steers the Range Rover toward the second overflow lot.
My retired fifth-grade teacher, Mr. O’Connor, jogs up from a folding chair arranged next to the entrance to the lot—an empty field that was supposed to be developed into a new and desperately needed grocery store but never was—and holds up a hand in the universal stop signal.
Once Giovanni stops, Mr. O’Connor rolls his fisted hand in a circle.
Giovanni stares at him in disbelief. “Why is this man pretending to eat spaghetti? Is he mocking me?”
I laugh silently for a second, before whispering, “He wants you to roll down the window. But he doesn’t work for the city in any capacity.
He just does this every time there’s a big event in town.
He considers it a public service, but he’s known for parking people in horrible spaces.
One time Theo got his car towed because of him. ”
Giovanni gives Mr. O’Connor an amused smile and rolls down the window. “Hello, sir.”
“Young man, welcome! What an interesting hat.”
Giovanni smiles and tips the brim of his “Smut Slut” hat in acknowledgment.
Mr. O’Connor nods to me. “Bianca. I hope you’ve come a long way with your commas.”
I smile and nod and pretend he hasn’t said this to me a hundred times over the past twenty years.
Turning back toward Giovanni, he says, “I hope this isn’t inappropriate, son, but I’m in a muscle-building group at the local gym, and we were wondering if you’d like to join us for our weekly workouts. We’re meeting on Thursday afternoon. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from us.”
For a second, Giovanni is mute. Perhaps because Mr. O’Connor is at least seventy and looks like he could be blown over by a stiff autumn wind.
The driver in the car behind us honks their horn impatiently, suggesting they must be out-of-towners, since no Apple Ridge native would be so rude to a known character like Mr. O’Connor.
Mr. Connor merely smiles and waves at them, as if they’d said hello and not implied fuck you.
“Of course,” Giovanni says. “I’d be delighted.” He turns and winks at me. “Bianca has been helping me get my workouts in, but I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know some more locals.”
Mr. O’Connor looks like he just got a winning lottery ticket.
I’m flustered and probably pink-cheeked.
“Oh, excellent!” my former teacher says.
“Just excellent. The group is called Biceps Before Bingo, and we meet at four o’clock.
You’re welcome to join us at bingo too. We played as a team last week and won big.
We each got a free tire rotation. Only Earl has a car, but we felt the victory, nonetheless.
It was a real rush. No question about it, there’s nothing that makes you feel young more than a workout before a high-stakes session of bingo. ”
Giovanni’s grin stretches wider. “Yeah, all right. Thanks…”
Mr. O’Connor nods, then lifts a hand to cover his mouth. “My word. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Mr. O’Connor.”
Does he even have a first name?
Giovanni shakes his hand through the window, while the driver behind us lays on the horn again.
“Can you lead me to a space, my friend?” Giovanni asks.
Mr. O’Connor looks like someone just gave him a shot of adrenaline in the ass. His back stiffens, and he surveys the field before finding a too-small space that Giovanni nonetheless manages to maneuver the car into.
I wait until we’re parked, the windows rolled up, to turn in my seat and smile at him. “You’re really going to lead a session of Biceps Before Bingo?”
He scrunches up his face, smiling sheepishly. “I almost invited you, but I don’t know if you would have made it through an hour-long inquisition about your comma usage. Your patience only extends so far.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Giovanni,” I say. “I thought you were afraid of old people.”
He lets out a strangled laugh and taps the wheel with two fingers before releasing his belt.
Turning, he unfastens my belt, his fingers lingering on my thigh.
“I’m not afraid of them. But if one of those guys keels over, I reserve the right to change my mind.
Anyway, it sounds kind of fun. Theo’s been letting me use his home gym, but I like working out around other guys.
” His gaze turns heated. “Of course, I like working out with you better.”
I lean a little closer to him. “I should hope so. Maybe we’ll try it again if you can keep up with his crew.”
“They’re going to kick my ass at bingo.”
“It’s a game of chance, Giovanni.”
He lifts one hand in the air, his eyes glimmering. “See? I didn’t even know that.”
“I don’t believe you. No man who can play pinochle doesn’t know how to play bingo.”
His mouth lifts on one side, his eyes boring into me.
“All right. You got me, Bianca. I took my nonna to bingo at least once a month back home. Maybe they’ll want to go, and one of them will fall madly in love with Mr. O’Connor.
Hey, if that happens, everyone will stop talking about your attempt to burn down the nursing home. ”
“You’re my hero, Mr. October.”
He grins. “So let me open your door for you. I can even make a big show of carrying you out of the car. I think I’d like that.”
And what do you know. I let him…
We walk toward Gallagher Park together, hand in hand, pausing at the front of the improvised parking lot, where Giovanni gives Mr. O’Connor, who’s talking the ear off someone else, a fist bump.
“Now you’re just showing off,” I mutter as we stroll along the sidewalk toward the noise churning from Gallagher Park.
He gives me a sidelong glance, his eyes warm. “I’m glad you finally noticed. I’ve been trying to catch your attention since I got here.”
Then he leans over and brushes a quick kiss on my lips in front of the parade of people moving toward the festival. I tell myself he’s only playing along, but I keep lifting my fingers to brush my lips as if I can soak him up.
No less than four people stop us as we head toward the park.
Two of them are out-of-towners who have come to the festival because they wanted to see Giovanni, and he signs a photograph of his abs for one of them.
The other two ask about the fire, and one of them, an older lady I recognize but can’t place, also asks what he’s planning to do next.
He shoots a sidelong look at me. “I don’t know, ma’am, but I’m reading a book I’m told will help.”
When we move past her, I ask, “You started it?”
“I read the introduction last night, cara mia. You’re a hard woman to say no to.
So is Emily.” He laughs and kicks a pinecone, which skitters along the sidewalk until it lands in a towering pile of leaves.
“She took one look at me and saw a man who’s so lost he needs a literal guidebook, and she gave me one. You’ve got a good friend.”
I squeeze his hand as we move along, passing a family with a small, curly-haired child. “So does Miles. I’m glad you’re here.”
He lifts our clasped hands, kissing the back of mine. “I hope you realize by now that I’m your friend too.”
I’m overwhelmed by him, so I just nod. A feeling of contentment fills my chest as we continue toward the park, greeting other folks also headed to the festival.
There’s a joyful atmosphere, a sense of being part of something bigger—not just this town, but this season.
The folding of summer into fall. An end wrapped up in a beginning.
When my focus is on Giovanni, I can pretend this is a normal situation. But the evidence to the contrary is spread out in front of me.
This year’s festival is bloated, spilling all around the fence of Gallagher Park, with tables set up in every mostly level spot outside the gates.
The larger tent pitched inside of the gates for the scarecrow competition is packed full of people.
Which is blowing my mind. The scarecrow competition Evergreens & Apples sponsored last year was very sparsely attended, with only six participants, and Theo and I were two of the six.