Better Than Your Dreams

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Better Than Your Dreams Page 9

by Dee Ernst


  I knew Dominique was thrilled.

  Phyllis bought her usual pecan pie. Dominique’s contribution to the festivities was a five-pound bag of gourmet coffee, two bottles of Amaretto, and Cheerios. I assumed the cereal was Tyler-specific. Rebecca and Julian came back in, and they all sat at my kitchen table, Tyler crawling off the chair looking for the dog, and Dominique chasing after him, muttering in French, while Brian and his mother and Rebecca trash-talked Marsha the Bitch.

  Vinnie came into my kitchen like Caesar entering the Roman Senate. He had a gorgeous bouquet of roses in one hand, and bakery box of cookies in the other. Behind him was Tony, carrying two large jugs of what I assumed to be homemade wine. Tony mumbled as he put the jugs on the counter, then started to back out of the door.

  “Ah, Tony?” I said.

  He stopped dead, looked at me, then looked at Vincent.

  By then, Aunt Lily had fluttered in from her deep discussion with Carmella. “Oh, darling, you can’t make poor Tony sit in the car all day. It’s Thanksgiving. We’ll just add a chair at the table, right, Mona?”

  Vinnie was nothing if not smooth. “Lily, my love, of course.” He then made introductions all around. My daughters, sensing drama, tore themselves away from the television to shake Tony’s hand. Trev, of course, was an old buddy, and he and Tony performed some sort of complicated handshake, hopefully not involving gang signs. Tony then asked, very politely, if there was someplace he could just sit and read. I sent him into the living room.

  Seconds later Carmella appeared. “What’s Tony doing in here?”

  Lily blinked. “Why, Carmella, it’s Thanksgiving. We have more than enough food, heaven knows. Besides, I feel like he’s part of the family.”

  I’m sure that, technically speaking, Tony was part of the family, but there was an obvious line where the help was concerned, and Tony must have fallen on the wrong side of it.

  Carmella may have been gearing up for an argument, but Ben and his sons came in.

  Ben and I hugged. His body felt so good against mine—lean and strong, his arms fitting perfectly around my shoulders and waist, my head tucked under his chin. He kissed the top of my head, and I stepped away from him, my heart racing. I was proud of myself for keeping my hands under control. The kitchen was getting very crowded, so I shooed everyone into the living room, where the silent Tony relocated himself to the window seat, Kindle in hand.

  I watched as David and Miranda went upstairs and hoped they would not be having sex.

  I could hear Ben laughing—Carmella had turned on the charm. I felt something tighten in my belly as I imagined her leaning toward him, her breasts pressing against his arm, flipping her long shiny hair around.

  I peeked in to the den—Trev was sitting between the twins, conjuring up another unwelcome visual.

  I felt something warm under my left moccasin—I had stepped on something that had once been in a cat’s digestive tract.

  The kitchen door opened—again—and Anthony and Victor came in, arms full.

  “Mona, did you know that there was a black Lincoln Town Car parked on the street, totally blocking your driveway?” Anthony said, giving me a quick kiss.

  I sighed. Escape was impossible.

  He gave me a hug. “Don’t worry. Victor and I are here. Let’s get these turkeys on the oven.”

  “Before you do that,” I said, “let’s see if we can crack open one of these jugs of wine.”

  I was not drunk for Thanksgiving. Perhaps if I had been, I could have rationalized some of my behavior. Not that I embarrassed myself in front of my family and friends, mind you. But I made an error in judgment that, when I think about it now, may not have been the wisest of choices.

  Things were going along fine. More than fine. About the time Anthony (not Tony) served his appetizer, Miranda and David came downstairs looking flushed and very excited. Miranda was wearing a brilliant emerald-cut diamond ring. I almost cried, she was so happy. Vinnie made a few congratulatory noises, then pulled out a little surprise of his own—a ring for Lily. It was a gorgeous sapphire—her birthstone—surrounded by diamonds. It was not huge, gaudy, or in any way overdone. It was simply perfect.

  I had already sampled a bit of Vinnie’s homemade wine. The first glass upon the successful transfer of two turkeys into their respective ovens, the second when Dominique asked for towels because Tyler—although he had made it into the powder room to go peepees—had not quite gotten to the bowl. After the third glass, where we all wished good luck and long love to the happy couples, I could not have stopped smiling if you paid me.

  Tony offered to light the grill outside to heat up the lasagna, because I had run out of oven space, even though I had two full-size ovens. Three trays of lasagna took up a lot of room. Tony was joined by Trev, which did not bother me, and Ethan, which did a little, and Jessica. That bothered me a lot. But who was I to pass judgment on Tony’s choice of career? When I had asked him earlier what he was reading, he showed me—Finnegan’s Wake. Really? What kind of goombah hood reads James Joyce? Obviously this was a young man of many facets. Who knows—maybe he was bodyguarding his way through a degree in comparative English literature.

  I almost felt sorry for Dominique. Phyllis made no secret of her attitude toward her potential daughter-in-law. Although I no longer harbored any ill feelings toward the woman, Lily certainly did, as did Anthony and—by extension—Victor. My daughters had grown to appreciate Dominique for her fashion sense and organizational skills, particularly when it came to throwing together a party, but there were no warm and fuzzy feelings there. So she was never completely relaxed or happy when in my home. But I have to hand it to her—she was one tough broad. She put on a brave face, was polite and sometimes charming, ignored all of Lily’s less-than-subtle digs, and kept Tyler from climbing furniture, writing on walls with his crayons, or otherwise being an obnoxious brat.

  Anthony was so fascinated with Vinnie that he barely drooled over Ben. Lauren and Jessica were having a field day. Ethan—the known entity—was almost as good looking as Ben, very shy and geeky. Trev, also almost as good looking as Ben, was outgoing, funny, and snarky. There was also Tony, silent, dark, a total mystery man. Let’s face it—when you’re young, mystery men are hard to resist.

  Brian somehow worked his way to Carmella’s side, and they had a long and intimate conversation under Dominique’s icy glare.

  Rebecca and Julian sat, wide-eyed and obviously amused.

  Fred had disappeared, hiding from Tyler, but emerged to try to grab a cannoli off the counter. Dogs and Italian pastry. Who knew?

  Carmella remained a respectful distance from Ben most of the time, but if I left the room, I’d return to find her slithered in and around him like a python.

  I had never written anything as complicated as this.

  I’m a great believer in plot twists and surprise endings, but there was so much going on in my house, I could not have fit it all into a five-part series.

  I had added a long folding table to the end of my dining room table and had retrieved folding chairs from the basement to accommodate the extra guests. I mixed china and crystal and cloth napkins. Instead of a centerpiece, there was a line of small lit votive candles down the center of the table in little red glass holders, alternating with single stems of gold-colored mums in amber shot glasses. Very Martha Stewart.

  The dining room was barely big enough for us all. When I announced dinner, there was a bit of a bumper-car moment as everyone tried to figure out where to sit. I stayed in the kitchen, carving with the help of Anthony, and when I finally carried the turkeys into the dining room—to actual applause—I was gratified to see a space for me left at the head of the table, with Ben seated to my right and Carmella at the far end. We all stood and held hands, and then went around the table, each of us saying what we were thankful for. Tyler, of course, beat us all—he was thankful that Christmas was coming, and he would be getting lots of toys. You’ve got to love the honesty of the young.

&
nbsp; One advantage of a table that could double as a bowling alley was that I didn’t have to talk much to Carmella. The downside was that the food took so long to get around that some people were almost finished eating before the rest of us had been passed the cranberry sauce. But everyone was smiling and talking, always a good sign. Ben reached over and squeezed my hand.

  “This could have been dicey,” he said. “But it looks like one big happy family.”

  I looked at our hands together and felt a tiny burst of happiness. I nodded. Yes. A bit bigger than I had ever imagined, and much more complicated, but happy was the operative word here. Everyone was smiling and laughing—even Dominique, who actually looked relaxed as she watched Tyler cuddle on Jessica’s lap. Brian had assumed his familiar king-in-his-castle pose, one leg thrown over the other, leaning back, arm draped casually over the back of the chair, even though it wasn’t his castle anymore; it was mine. Surprisingly, he got up to help clear the table, and even carried out the dessert dishes. Six pies. And the cannoli. And Vinnie’s cookies—I was going to have to eat nothing but salad for the rest of the week.

  Dessert was finally over. When people began to migrate from the dining room, Lily suggested taking Carmella out to the backyard so they could start planning a few things. That was fine. I got why Vinnie went out with them. And I could even understand Miranda and David offering to take Tyler out there as well. Tyler’s Thanksgiving dinner had consisted of two bites of turkey, a spoonful of stuffing, half a green bean, a piece of pecan pie, and several bites of chocolate chip cookie. He was sugar-loaded.

  Tony followed them out, of course. You never knew when a well-paid hit man would come bursting through the dormant forsythia hedge.

  But I didn’t quite understand why Ben had to go out there with them.

  Anthony was helping me load the dishwasher and kept looking out the window to give me a running narrative.

  “They’re out by the fountain, and Lily is waving her arms. I bet they put the dance floor there.

  “Tyler is on the ground, rolling, and Vinnie is taking pictures of the back end of your garage with his phone.”

  “Carmella is leaning against Ben and taking notes. I do love that pink notebook, but her booties are hideous.

  “Tony is walking the perimeter of the property. I bet he’s pacing out footage for barbed wire.”

  Rebecca was carving up what was left of the turkey and putting the meat in neat piles. “Are you really letting them marry here?” she asked.

  I lifted my shoulders, then let them drop. “Why not? After all, this has been Lily’s home for almost five years. And it will be better than driving out to Bay Ridge.”

  “I don’t know,” Julian said. He was packing Rebecca’s piles into Ziploc bags. “Bay Ridge is probably quite something in the spring.”

  Phyllis, carefully portioning out the leftover veggies, made a noise. “I’ve seen Bay Ridge in the spring. Believe me, it’s nothing special. That Carmella person is quite attractive, isn’t she?”

  “I think she’s overdone,” Victor said.

  “I was thinking ripe,” Julian said.

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows at Julian. “Ripe? Really? I didn’t think you would notice.”

  “Rebecca, please,” Anthony said. “Even I noticed. And believe me, she is so not my type.”

  “Who’s not your type?” asked Lauren, coming in with the last of the wineglasses.

  “Carmella,” Anthony said.

  Lauren lowered her voice. “Trev said she sleeps around a lot.”

  Rebecca grimaced. “Ew. Her son said that?”

  Lauren’s eyes were wide. “I know, right? I mean, gross.”

  Julian nodded. “Very.”

  I handed Lauren the platter I was drying off. “Finish this for me, baby. I just want to check out what they’re saying about my yard.”

  I went out without a coat, which I immediately regretted, because it was getting dark and very cold. I trotted over to where they were all huddled.

  “So, what did you all decide?” I asked, sounding bright and innocent.

  Carmella had opened her notebook. “Can we put the buffet and bar in the garage? We’ll cover the walls and ceiling with white fabric—it will look spectacular. There’s already electricity in there, and getting running water in will be easy. We’ll put the band on the deck to discourage people from going in and out of the house. The Port-A-Potties will be behind the garage.”

  “Oh?” I said. “Port-A-Potties?”

  “Honey, I can get ones that look like bathrooms at Buckingham Palace. We’ll have one tent for tables and one for the dance floor. Lots of candles on stands. We’ll have a few of the boys park cars, and a few more making sure no strangers wander in.” Carmella flipped a few pages. “Would you like new azalea bushes? We can have yours dug up and replaced with blooming ones.”

  “Oh, Mona, wouldn’t that be marvelous?” Lily gushed. “I love azaleas.”

  “I know that, Aunt Lily,” I said, “but I’m kind of attached to the ones I have already. Please. Let’s not do any major landscaping if we can help it.”

  “Of course,” Vinnie said. “We so appreciate your allowing us the use of your yard. We’ll keep any disturbance to a minimum.” In the darkness, I could see he was not looking at me, but rather his daughter.

  “Of course.” Carmella slid her arm through Ben’s. “And Ben had this fab idea about lighting up this fountain. Something that one of his clients did. I really didn’t understand it, so would you mind if he took me to check it out?” Her smile gleamed in the night.

  What? Was she really asking me if it was okay for her to poach my boyfriend under the pretense of lighting up a fountain?

  “Why would I mind?” I shot back. I could feel the spot behind my eyes start to burn. “Ben is a grown man. He can do what he likes.”

  “Oh, good,” she cooed. “Then maybe we can make a whole day of it, Ben. After all, I’ll be driving all the way in from Brooklyn, and we’re going where? Chester? I’ve heard it’s a charming town. I bet we could do a great lunch while we’re there.”

  I clenched my teeth. Ben was looking in my direction, but I could not read his expression. Where was he with this? Did he want to spend time with this woman?

  Lily and Vinnie had wandered off. Tony was out of sight, possibly seeing where the land mines could be buried. Miranda and David were leading a sniffling Tyler back inside. It was just Ben, Carmella, and me, standing in the dark.

  I fought to keep my voice even. “There are also some fun shops right on Main Street.” Did she really think I would pull the jealous and insecure act? Like I was in any way threatened by her?

  “Excellent. Ben, I’ll be sure to give you a call.” And she slunk away.

  “If she tries to make a pass,” Ben said, “I’ll make sure she calls you first. For permission.”

  He turned and walked back to the house.

  Damn. It was then that I thought that I might have made a mistake. Maybe I needed to grab Ben and make it clear to him that although I had no right at all to tell him what he could and could not do, I really didn’t want him hanging around with Carmella any more than absolutely necessary.

  I counted to twenty before I followed him into the house. No reason to appear needy. As I entered, there was some shouting. Not happy post holiday shouting. I ran into the foyer.

  The front door was open, revealing a skinny, long-haired young man in a red Domino’s shirt who had obviously just delivered a pizza, and who was wearing an expression of complete terror, eyes bulging, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Ethan was standing in the foyer, holding a pizza box, yelling, “Stop, stop,” his own face a mixture of confusion and utter disbelief. Lauren was also shouting at Tony, who had pulled out a small firearm and assumed the position, legs spread apart, arms straight in front of him, both hands holding the gun that was pointing directly at the pizza delivery guy.

  Ben walked slowly up to Tony. “It’s pizza,” he explained quietly.
/>   Tony lowered his gun, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, but he was just standing here, alone, with the door open. I didn’t know.”

  “I went to get some money,” Lauren explained. “And left him with Ethan.”

  “You were getting a pizza?” I asked. “You just finished Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Ethan blushed. “We wanted it later,” he mumbled. “When we were playing Call of Duty.”

  I gawked at Ben, who shrugged. “Video game,” he explained.

  Vinnie came up, put his arm around the pizza guy, and leaned in to speak softly into his ear. No one heard what he said. Then Vinnie reached into his pocket, turned his back to us all, and stuffed what I can only imagine was a wad of cash into Pizza Guy’s hand. Pizza Guy backed out, shutting the door behind him.

  Vinnie turned to Tony with a broad smile. “No harm done,” he said smoothly. He glanced around. “Tony was just looking out for me. He’s very protective around strangers. After all, that kid could have been anybody.”

  Right. Like a deadly ninja wearing a Domino’s pizza shirt.

  Carmella was shaking her head. “So excitable! Listen, everybody, it’s no big deal!”

  Maybe not in her world.

  Ethan and Lauren went back into the den with the pizza. Lily, Vinnie, and Carmella went into the living room. Ben and I stood alone in the foyer.

  Fred came lumbering in from somewhere, barking hysterically.

  I looked at Ben. His mouth was in a tight line from trying to keep a straight face. His eyes were blazing.

  “Whenever I’m with you,” he said, his voice shaking with laughter, “the most interesting things happen.”

  “It’s not like I plan them,” I told him.

  He nodded a few times. “I know. That’s the best part,” he said.

  And then we walked back into the living room lights, and the sound of Carmella’s laughter.

 

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