“Ah,” Jake said, nodding. “A common problem among dogs, I hear.”
“Jake Carpenter, is that you?” Aunt Lucy met us at the top of the stairs, wearing her familiar black dress and sensible shoes.
“What kind of nonsense is going on around here? Did you not call and say you were bringing dinner?”
“And I did,” he answered, charming her with his grin. “It’s in the car. I’ll get it.”
Aunt Lucy looked around at the rest of us. “Well? Set the table! Pour the drinks, and I don’t mean alcohol! Spike, go call Pete, he needs to eat something.”
We moved, slow and unsteady on our feet, to do as she commanded. It was a ritual, as old as I could remember. Every night we set the table, poured the drinks and said grace over our meals. It was always at the same time, in the same seats, at the same table. Now there were new faces, Spike, Jake, Pete and Lloyd in my uncle’s old place. But the ritual of family continued.
Jake returned carrying a cooler. He pulled out foil-wrapped pans, grabbed serving spoons from drawers without asking for directions and brought dinner to the table.
“You cook?” I asked.
“You don’t?” he answered. He grinned. “Actually, I only made the tiramisu. My grandmother made the rest.”
I looked at the familiar foil rectangles and then back at Jake.
“Your grandmother,” I said.
Jake’s grin broadened. “Sylvia Cozzone,” he finished. “The one and only.”
“The blessing!” Aunt Lucy commanded. “Can’t you see your uncle is waiting?”
Lloyd, sitting at Uncle Benny’s chair, was indeed waiting. His plate had been served, but the dog was not wolfing it down. I stared at him, looking hard into his doggie eyes.
“No way,” I muttered to myself. “You’re just a dog.”
Lloyd bowed his head and barked twice.
“Amen!” Aunt Lucy said and crossed herself.
I looked back at Lloyd and crossed myself twice.
The entire family was probably nuts. Aunt Lucy believed my dog was my uncle. Nina was the queen of mud, looking to save the world. Jake was Sylvia Cozzone’s grandson, which made him crazy by virtue of his heritage. Spike loved Nina. Surely you had to be crazy to both understand and love my wacko cousin, so I guess that made me technically insane, as well.
I sat there eating good pasta and feeling the warmth of my family swirl around me like a soft sweater. This was where I belonged. I knew that with a certainty that made my confusion over the details irrelevant. So I didn’t have a job. Okay. But I did have a future.
I looked up and found Jake watching me.
I had a future, all right, filled with unfinished business, possibilities and promises. Now, how could a girl complain about a life like that?
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5768-3
STELLA, GET YOUR GUN
Copyright © 2004 by Nancy Bartholomew
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