Alana was Luisa's housekeeper. She had worked for my great aunt for over thirty years. In my mind, that was equivalent to sainthood.
Grandma Rosa placed her hand over mine. "You will find out what really happened. I know you can do this."
I choked back a laugh. "Grandma, I'm no Nancy Drew."
Her forehead creased in several wrinkles. "That is the teenager with the convertible and blonde hair, yes? The one you would read all the time as a child?"
I grinned. "That's right."
"Silly girl. You are better than that. Remember how we would play Clue when you were little? You always knew who the killer was." She pointed her finger at me. "Very smart."
Oh, good grief.
"I do not ask for much," my grandmother continued. "I keep the house clean and cook for you, Gianna, and your nutty parents. Luisa and I, we did not get along, but so help me, she was my sister, and I loved her. I need to find out the truth. This breaks my heart."
How could I possibly say no to such a plea? I turned to Josie, who raised her eyebrows back at me. "I'll do my best. I guess I could ask Alana if anyone had been by to see Aunt Luisa before her death."
Grandma Rosa nodded in approval. "It is good. She will know everyone who has been in the house." She glanced at my sister and Josie. "You will both help too. I wanted to wait until Sally was free of that poor excuse of a husband before I asked her to look into this."
It was no secret Grandma had never liked Colin. In fact, she'd begged me not to marry him. Come to think of it, no one in my family had been very fond of him, although I had to give them points for trying.
When we first started dating at the age of eighteen, I'd been on the rebound from a previous relationship and convinced I was doing the right thing. We'd married when we were both twenty-three, and, while there were still doubts, I hadn't been willing to share them with anyone. How I wished I hadn't been so stubborn back then.
I turned to Josie. "Will you come with me?"
She glanced at her watch. "Rob's on the day shift this week. Let me call my sitter and ask her to hang out for a couple more hours." She removed her cell phone from her shorts pocket and walked into the living room.
I heard a shriek and then Josie's hesitant voice. "Maria, that's quite an outfit."
My mother's high-pitched giggle floated through the air. "Thank you, sweetie. It is me, isn't it?"
My grandmother shut her eyes and shook her head. Her only child was going to be the death of her. For as long as I could remember, my mother had been acting like a teenager trapped in a middle-aged woman's body. Don't get me wrong. She's beautiful and I adore her. She has the biggest heart of anyone I know and is always buying presents for Josie's kids. Sometimes her attention span is similar to that of a five-year-old's, though.
Mom had a face-lift last year. She has a perfect size four figure and killer legs. Most days, at the age of fifty-two, she looks better than me. We'd gone to the grocery store together earlier in the week and guys my age were checking her out. It does tend to creep a daughter out a little bit.
The click of heels sounded on the kitchen floor as my mother approached us. She was in her usual tight miniskirt—this time a bright red spandex one paired with a white tube top. Her strappy sling-back sandals were the same shade of red as the skirt. She had soft, large brown eyes and hair as dark as mine, though not as curly.
Mom glanced down at her shapely legs in disgust. "I knew I should have gone tanning today. It's fading already."
"Forget that. You look dynamite, baby." A voice boomed behind her.
My father, Domenic Muccio, stood in the doorway, beaming with pride at his wife. Thirteen years her senior, he was balding and growing stout across the middle. Like my mother, he was also obsessed, but about entirely different things. While her mind was going backward in time, his was moving forward. Into another life, so to speak.
He pointed at the magazine he held in his hand. "I found the casket I want for my funeral. I wonder if they'll let me try it out ahead of time. I mean, it's sort of like buying a car, right? I'll be spending a lot of time in it."
"Sweet Lord," Gianna murmured under her breath.
Although he was in perfect health, my father was fascinated by funerals and death. I didn't know of anyone else who had an annual subscription to Coffins Are Us.
Dad grunted. "I'll never understand these people who get themselves cremated."
"It's called being progressive," Gianna said. "Plus, it's good for the environment."
My father snorted and helped himself to a mammoth-sized piece of cheesecake. "Not natural. Everyone should have a final resting place. I don't want someone scattering me all over the state. Hell, my eyes could wind up in Albany and my feet in New York City. It's just not right."
The room was silent as we all pondered this for a minute.
Josie came back into the kitchen, snapping her phone shut. "All set. Ready to go, girlfriend?"
My mother produced a compact and lipstick from out of nowhere and applied a fresh coat to her mouth. "How did you like the building, Sal?"
I smiled. "Loved it. I'm going to call the realtor and see if I can move in this week. All it needs are some minor repairs and the equipment. We may even be able to get the place going by the beginning of September."
My mother made a face. "Oh, pooh. I was hoping you'd stay home longer. It's been such fun having you here. Like a giant slumber party."
I rolled my eyes at Gianna, who clenched her jaw in return. My mother usually went to bed early with my father, but that didn't stop her from coming into my room at about one in the morning to gossip, even if I was asleep. Sometimes she'd drag Gianna along too. Girl talk, she called it.
My father chewed his cake thoughtfully. "You need a theme for the shop. A unique idea. Something that will make people want to go there."
"Like what?" I asked.
He shrugged, scraping his fork against the empty plate. "I don't know. Something different from the other cookie shops around here. You always want to be original, bella donna. Like your papa."
"Isn't that the truth," Gianna mumbled.
Dad hoisted himself out of the chair and put his arm around my mother, tickling her waist until she started shrieking with laughter. She broke loose and exited the room while he chuckled, following closely at her heels. We could hear them climbing the stairs together and then their bedroom door close with finality.
Oh yes, both my parents were definitely original.
Gianna made a face. "For God's sake, it's the middle of the afternoon! Why do they have to behave like animals in heat some days?"
Josie grinned. "I think it's kind of cute."
"Oh, please. Sometimes I wish they fought like cats and dogs instead of—of that." Gianna gave an involuntary shiver. "Gross."
We all laughed.
Josie gave my grandmother a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the cake. It was awesome, as usual. Can you show me how you make the genettis sometime this week? The recipe I have for them seems to be missing something. They don't come out like yours."
My grandmother's face lit up. "Of course. They will be one of your best sellers."
I had no doubt she was right. The Italian glazed cookies sprinkled with nonpareils had always been a huge hit whenever Grandma Rosa made them for family events over the years.
Josie was busy counting on her fingers. "And the raspberry cheesecake ones. Rob's coworkers love it when I make them. Double fudge chocolate and, of course, my special jelly cookies. I could make those in my sleep."
"Well, at least I can make awesome chocolate chip ones," I teased, "but I could never carry this out without your help." It was the truth. Josie was the culinary genius while I was more of an expert at the financial and customer service end after three years as a barista and then manager at Starbucks.
Josie squealed. "This is so exciting! Come on, Sal, let's get moving if we're going to talk to Alana."
Gianna rose from the table, books in hand. "How are you
going to get the work on the building done so fast?"
I carried my cup and plate to the sink. "We can do the painting ourselves. But we'll need to hire someone for a few miscellaneous jobs, like the flooring."
"You do remember your former boyfriend runs his own construction business?" Josie asked. "I bet you'd get a huge discount."
"I always liked Mike much better than Colin," Gianna agreed. "Rumor has it he isn't dating anyone either."
At the mention of the name, the cup slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor. Gianna grabbed the broom for me and Grandma Rosa leaned down to hold the dustpan as I swept up the pieces. Her old eyes were filled with wisdom and saw everything clearly. They bore straight into mine.
"Mike is a nice boy. You should have stayed with him."
My mouth fell open in shock. "Okay, does everyone have amnesia here? He cheated on me too. And there's no way I'm hiring him to do the work. Fred Thompson remodeled the basement last year for dad, didn't he? I'll call him."
Grandma Rosa gave me a long, searching look as she dumped the shards of glass in the trash. "Whatever you think is best."
It was apparent my grandmother didn't think my decision was for the best, but she chose not to argue with me further.
Mike Donovan had been my high school boyfriend. We'd dated for two years, and I'd been hopelessly in love with him until the night I found him in the backseat of Brenda Snyder's Buick. Backseat Brenda, as we'd all dubbed her. It also happened to be the night of our senior prom. I'd immediately broken up with him and a few weeks later started dating Colin. From one cheating ex to another. Did I know how to pick them or what?
CHAPTER THREE
The old style farmhouse Aunt Luisa owned was within Colwestern's city limits. The surrounding area had been developed but the building itself had remained the same for the past fifty years she'd lived there.
Luisa's husband Antonio died over twenty years ago. They'd never had children but Antonio had a nephew, Lorenzo, who was about thirty-five or so. He'd visited Luisa infrequently over the years, pretending to be concerned for her well-being. My father said he was a low life who couldn't hold a job and always looked to everyone for a handout.
With the exception of Grandma Rosa and Alana, Luisa had pretty much lived life as a hermit since Antonio's death. Perhaps being disagreeable had something to do with it. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of mother she would have made if she'd ever had kids. On weekly visits to her house as a child, she'd delighted in pinching me for no good reason. Gianna had been the recipient of her world famous noogies. She claimed it was the reason for the terrible migraines she still suffered from to this day.
Grandma Rosa was the complete opposite of her sister. Nurturing, loving, and always filled with sound advice, she'd come to live with my parents shortly after Gianna was born and her husband, my grandfather Theodore, passed away. While there had been times growing up that my parents couldn't attend certain school functions, such as games I'd cheerlead or Christmas concerts, Grandma Rosa had never missed a single one of mine or my sister's events. Sometimes I felt she was the only one who ever listened to me.
Grandma assured me Alana was still coming in twice a week to pack up Luisa's belongings and would be around today. My aunt's house had gone up for sale a few days earlier, and Alana was boxing up clothing, books, and trinkets as a favor to my grandmother in case the home sold quickly.
"I wonder why Rosa didn't ask your mom to list the house," Josie said as I parked my car across the street from Luisa's.
"Maybe because she actually wants to sell and be done with it?" My mother had recently begun a career as a real estate agent. In almost six months, she'd made a big fat zero in sales. I guessed the reason my grandma didn't want her daughter representing her was because to my mother, this wasn't a real job. She was like a Barbie doll playing house.
Josie grinned as she rang the bell. "Good point there."
We heard someone thumping down the stairs, and, a few seconds later, the curtain moved aside and Alana's broad face smiled out at us.
She was in her late fifties, with salt and pepper hair, a beefy build, and a large wart above her left eye. The first time Josie met her as a child she'd insisted Alana must be a witch since they were the only ones who had warts. When I'd asked my grandmother, she mumbled something about Josie being pazza and reading too many fairy tales.
Alana never married and had no children, unless Aunt Luisa qualified as one. I couldn't help but wonder what she'd do for income now.
"Miss Sally," she said, giving me a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. She nodded to Josie. "How nice to see you both. Please come in."
The curtains and shades were drawn tight in an attempt to keep the place cool. Luisa had always believed air conditioners were a waste of money. The rooms were dark, dismal, and overheated, matching my late aunt's attitude perfectly.
We followed Alana up the winding hardwood staircase stained with polyurethane and lined with treads to help prevent a fall. Unfortunately, they hadn't helped Luisa when Alana found her at the bottom of the stairs after she'd had the heart attack and fallen to her death, or according to my grandmother's theory, someone had helped her along.
As we neared the top of the staircase with Alana huffing and puffing behind us, I glanced at the wide landing. Off of it was a large sitting room on one side where Luisa had crocheted every afternoon while she watched her soap operas. On the opposite side were a bathroom and two bedrooms. A spare bedroom, the kitchen, and dining area were located on the bottom floor.
The first thing one noticed as they reached the top of the staircase was the large mahogany curio cabinet in the landing, filled with Luisa's personal treasures. There was her rose patterned china and a few assorted knickknacks. The prized teapot had always sat center on the top glass shelf by itself. To Grandma Rosa, it served as a constant reminder of the mother who betrayed her. Luisa knew this and apparently thrived on it.
Sure enough, the spot was empty.
Alana mopped at the shining sweat on her forehead. "Come on in to the sitting room. It's a little cooler in there. Would you girls care for a refreshment?"
I hated to think of her trudging down the stairs again, so I shook my head. "No, thank you. We can't stay long."
We followed her into the darkly paneled room, and Josie and I settled on the paisley-printed sofa while she sank back into Luisa's grey tufted chair and put her feet on the matching ottoman.
"I heard you were back in town," Alana addressed me. "I was so sorry to hear about your divorce."
A stab of pain shot through me. Hearing the words out loud made it real and for a moment, I was speechless. I'd have to learn to cope with this. Colwestern was a small town whose residents thrived on gossip. Still, it was hard to listen to the words without feeling like a failure, although I knew Colin had been the one at fault. Will I ever get used to it? "Thank you."
She shook her head. "Men today. They only think about pleasing that one part of their body." She made the sign of the cross on her chest.
Ew. I winced and Josie shifted in her seat uncomfortably. I didn't want to get into a conversation with Alana about male gratification. Heck, she could have been Dr. Ruth, and I still would have run from the room screaming. I considered sex and one's love life a private matter. Not to mention that mine was pretty nonexistent right now. "Um, how's the packing going? Has anyone been by to see the house yet?"
Alana nodded. "The realtor brought a young couple in this morning. Nice folks. Said the place was dark and depressing, but they were thinking about making an offer. Probably a low-ball one. I know your grandmother is anxious to sell and be done with all this, so maybe she'll take it."
"Yes, she doesn't need the extra headache right now. Thank you so much for helping with the packing. I know she appreciates it."
She smiled. "Rosa is a wonderful woman. I never saw two sisters more different from each other."
Boy, was that the truth.
Silence enveloped the
room. I wasn't quite sure how to approach the topic so I went ahead and blurted it out. "We were wondering if anyone had been over to see Aunt Luisa in the last few days—before she died?"
Alana eyed me suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"
I cleared my throat. "Grandma seems to think that Luisa died under strange circumstances."
She folded her hands in her lap, and said nothing for almost a full minute while we waited. "Yes, I think so, too."
I was thunderstruck. "Did you tell the police?"
She shrugged. "What's to tell? The autopsy confirmed it was a heart attack. Sure, she was seventy-two, but she was healthy. Never drank or smoked. Took long walks every day. The only one who ever made her upset was your grandmother."
I bit my lower lip hard. "Now, Alana, you just told me what a lovely woman my grandma is."
She produced a handkerchief from the pocket of her faded, elastic-waist jeans. "And I meant it. But they would fight all the time. Everything was a competition between the two of them. The day before she died, your grandmother was here and they had a terrible row. Luisa was practically foaming at the mouth when Rosa left."
"What did they fight about?" Josie asked.
Your grandmother brought her some braciole," Alana said. "And Luisa threw it at her. Said she was showing her up, like always."
My mouth started to water at the mention of Grandma Rosa's braciole. It was my favorite dish and I could almost taste the thin slices of beef pan fried with a filling of herbs and cheese, then dipped into her rich tomato sauce. She'd made it last week for my homecoming but I could easily make do with it every night.
"She said Rosa was always showing off, bringing her food and stuff," Alana went on. "Like she didn't know how to cook herself. And then your grandmother said well, she didn't. She compared Luisa's marinara sauce to lumpy V8 juice."
I covered my mouth to hide a smile. Although I was biased where my grandmother was concerned, she'd made a valid point. Luisa's cooking had always left a lot to be desired.
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