“Food’s almost ready, figlio. Go wash.” His mama shooed him out of the kitchen.
Ophelia trailed him into the empty hallway. “Did you manage to fix it?” she asked about the washing machine.
“Not yet.” He made a face and showed her the grease under his nails. “I gotta get a new part tomorrow when the stores reopen, but at least I know what’s wrong with it.” He massaged the kink he’d gotten in his neck from craning to see up inside the bowels of the old appliance. “It needs a new tub bearing. Then the cylinder won’t wobble like it’s demon-possessed.”
“You’re so clever,” Ophelia praised. Stepping closer, she whispered, “Did she confide in you about her health?”
Fixing the machine had been easy. Getting his mother to admit that she needed to see a doctor wasn’t. Vinny grimaced. “Not really. She said she was afraid the doc would tell her the cancer was back.” His chest tightened at the possibility. “I made her promise to make an appointment next week. How was the parade?”
“Great,” she said a tad too brightly.
Something about the way she said it roused the suspicion that she was hiding something, but he couldn’t imagine what. “Okay,” he said searching her turquoise eyes for clues.
But she turned away, going back to help his mama before he could query her further. With a shrug, Vinny hurried upstairs to shower and change.
By the time he rejoined the women, the kitchen table had been set with a lace tablecloth and his mama’s finest china. The food lay along the counter like a buffet.
“Cut the turkey, figlio,” Mama ordered. “S’time to eat!”
Vinny obliged, slicing up the turkey with a knife in bad need of sharpening. Mama led them in a blessing and then they piled their plates with food and sat down to enjoy it.
Mama Rose sent a critical look at Lia’s plate. “That’s all you eat?” she demanded.
Lia looked down at her plate and up at Vinny. She had loaded up on green beans and white meat, the kind of lean foods she usually ate to keep her figure trim for the cameras.
“She’ll get seconds, Mama,” he assured her. “Have some cranberry sauce on your meat,” he suggested, passing Lia the cut glass relish plate.
Lia took the plate with an inscrutable expression, dished up a spoonful of sauce and plopped it next to her meat.
“Potatoes,” Mama insisted, frowning critically at her daughter-in-law. “How you supposed to make babies when you so skinny?”
“Mama,” Vinny interjected on a warning note.
“I’ll eat her portion of the potatoes,” Bella offered. “And her portion of pie, too.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Lia surprised them all by leaping to her feet and spooning a heaping mound of mashed potatoes onto her plate, then dousing it with gravy. Vinny held his breath as she retook her seat. Was she playing games? he wondered. Calling his mama’s bluff?
To his surprise, she proceeded to eat every last bit of food on her plate. She even ate a bite of his pumpkin pie.
An hour later, they lay across his bed, too replete to do anything but rest for a while. Lia lay with her head on Vinny’s chest, talking on her cell phone to her sister, and then to her three-year-old nephew, Ryan.
“Is Joe there?” Vinny asked, wanting to speak to his commander. With a curious glance at him, she asked Penny if she could put Joe on the phone, and then she relinquished her phone to her husband.
“Happy Thanksgiving, sir,” Vinny greeted his commander and brother-in-law with mixed familiarity and formality. “How’s it goin’?”
“Very well. And you?”
“Excellent, sir. My mama outdid herself this year.”
“So did Penny. We’ve got my folks visiting.”
“That’s what I heard.” He decided to cut to the chase. “Actually, I have a question for you. Did you ever know a SEAL named John Staskiewicz?”
The silence on Joe’s end supplied an answer even before Joe confirmed it. “Yes, we served on Team Three together. Why do you ask?”
“You know he’s dead, right?”
“What?”
Joe’s outburst betrayed shock. “I’m sorry,” Vinny apologized. “I just heard it on the news. He was supposedly killed by some teenaged thugs who’ve been breaking into houses, but I think that’s bullshit.” Realizing that his wife was listening avidly to their conversation, Vinny transferred the cell phone to his other ear to mute Joe’s side of the conversation.
“When was this?” Joe asked him, sounding more concerned by the second.
“Just last night, I’m guessing,” Vinny replied. “I saw his name on that box on your desk.”