A Mobster's Menu for Mother's Day Brunch (2 page)

Harry nodded. “That’s right. They’re from that New Orleans shipment that fell off the truck.”

Tony the waiter filled Uncle Tommy’s water glass. Tony’s hand was visibly trembling. Uncle Tommy reached over to steady his glass.

“Sorry, sir,” the waiter said, a look of horror on his face. “Didn’t mean to disturb your glass.”

“It’s just water,” Uncle Tommy said. Tommy’s neck muscles bulged out from the collar of his Armani suit, his eyes calm but assessing.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” Charlie asked, turning his attention to Tony the waiter. “Do you like working here?”

“I do, sir,” Tony answered, clutching the water pitcher with both hands.

“Don’t you normally work in the dining area? I think I’ve seen you on pirogi night. How do you get to choose to work a special event like this one?” Charlie asked.

The waiter hesitated, looking over at Becky the waitress, who looked like she was about to bolt. “We pick straws.”

“Oh, and you two were the lucky ones,” Harry said, nodding his head. “I’m sure that there will be plenty of food left over for you to take home later. I even have a few more boxes in the car outside, if you’re interested in any surplus miniature food. They’re on ice, of course. Or if you’re interested in any of these beautiful centerpieces. I’ve got them in different colors.”

Tony looked at the bright orange papier-mâché
Easter bunny in the center of the table. It had sparklers sticking out the top of its head, and was decorated in plaid shorts and bright silver eyes. The centerpiece on the children’s table was identical, except it was bright blue and had balloons tied to its front paws.

“Why, thank you so much,” the waiter said, then scurried away to the kitchen to refill the water pitcher.

“So, Jeremy,” Betty said loudly after taking a long sip from her mimosa glass. “I hear you’re still the black sheep of the family. Shunning the family business to open your own cupcake factory, and working with Carla, here. She’s from a neighboring family, you know.”

Jeremy choked on his drink, spraying liquid back into his glass. Carla tightened her grip on his arm, eyes wide.

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Aunt Shirley exclaimed. “Can we please have a little discretion?”

“I’m too old for discretion,” Betty said, adjusting her thick glasses, peering across the table. “I don’t know how long I’ve got left, and I don’t want to miss out on any juicy information. I haven’t seen Jeremy since Christmas, so I’m not up to speed on his lifestyle changes. So what’s the story Jeremy?”

Jeremy’s face reddened, his mouth set in a hard line. “I want you to please pay Carla respect,” he said. “She’s here as part of our family. Part of my family.”

“She is?” Betty asked, looking confused. “I thought she was just icing your cupcakes.”

The red in Jeremy’s face deepened. “She
is
icing my cupcakes. In the bakery. And I opened a bakery that specializes in cupcakes. I did not open a cupcake factory. Carla’s not only my icer, she’s my…girlfriend. She’s very special to me.”

“Hey, wait a minute. There was a pause in there,” Mary Charlotte said, peering at Jeremy. “Is she your girlfriend or not?”

“She’s very special to me,” Jeremy answered.

“Oh, my apologies, sweetie,” Betty said to Carla. “I thought there was just icing going on. Of course, you’re welcome into the family. Any honey of Jeremy is our honey, too.”

Carla’s face paled, and she pushed her chair away from the table. “Please excuse me,” she said quietly, and headed quickly towards the restroom.

“Now look at what you’ve done,” Aunt Shirley said in a stage whisper. “You’ve upset her.”

Jeremy excused himself and pushed away from the table to follow Carla.

“What’s going on?” Annalisa asked. “I thought everyone was OK with the fact that Jeremy left the family business to start his own bakery. And Carla seems really nice. She doesn’t even care that our family is a bunch of mob—”

“Tsk—” Aunt Shirley said, raising her hand. “Let’s focus on Jeremy.” She craned her head to look at Uncle Tommy. “Tommy, do you know what’s going on with Jeremy and Carla?”

Uncle Tommy sat between Uncle Frank and Aunt Lucinda. Uncle Frank was trying to cut his mini quiche with a fork and knife, looking perplexed. Aunt Lucinda’s eyes were at half-mast, her head bobbing. Uncle Tommy’s face was a stone mask.

“Oh, he does know something,” Charlie said. “You can see it in his eyes.”

“I don’t see anything in his eyes,” Harry said, squinting. “That’s how he always looks. Kind of like he could crack a walnut between his eyebrows.”

Uncle Tommy gave Harry a look, and Harry stopped talking.

“Is this true, Tommy?” Aunt Shirley asked. “Do you know something about Jeremy that you’d like to share with the rest of the family?”

“Isn’t that putting Uncle Tommy on the spot?” Annalisa asked. “What if he’s sworn to secrecy or something?”

Aunt Shirley smiled. “This is family, dear. It’s our job to know each other’s business.”

“Like the time Uncle Tommy found out that Harry and I missed that drop-off at the turnpike last summer?” Charlie asked. “We had a station wagon full of gourmet goat’s milk in the trunk. Harry and I got distracted by the hot air balloon show at the shore, and clean forgot about the delivery. Boy, that trunk smelled pretty bad for a long time.”

Uncle Tommy turned his attention to Charlie.

“Um, Charlie,” Harry stammered. “I don’t think we ever did tell Uncle Tommy about that goat’s milk problem. Remember after we gave him the station wagon back, and he asked us about the peculiar odor? We told him a gang of squirrels had taken residence in the trunk.”

Charlie nodded his head slowly, wheels turning. “Right, right,” he said. “So…we were talking about Jeremy?”

“I think that’s called deflection,” Annalisa said. “We learned about that in psychology class. It’s a new elective at the high school for advanced students. There’s a lot of deflection going on at this table.”

“You just keep on learning, dear,” Aunt Shirley said. “Maybe we should just let this thing with Jeremy go. Let’s all just have a nice brunch and enjoy our cocktail wieners and drinks.” She pointed to a large tray of desserts. “And we even have little chocolate éclairs. Aren’t they darling?”

“Aren’t they French, too?” Charlie asked. “Like the hors d’oeuvres? This is actually an
intercontinental
brunch, not just a national brunch. It represents the entire world, not just the United States.”

“I don’t think that moving on is necessarily the family way,” Betty said, thoughtful. “I would be crushed if Jeremy thought I didn’t accept him for who he is. Black sheep or not, he’ll always be my little bambino.”

Jeremy led Carla back to the table, a hand on her back. “So, how are the desserts?” he asked. “Did our cupcakes show up yet?”

“Not yet, dear,” Betty said. “I was just saying how we accept you just the way you are. Even though it was hard there for a while, because you walked away from the family business. But we still love you. And welcome to the family, dear,” she said to Carla.

“Thank you,” Carla said, the color back in her cheeks. She picked at her food. “Honestly, Jeremy’s family has been great. You’ve given me a wonderful welcome.”

“Well, any time you want to pick the numbers with the girls on Wednesday nights, you are more than welcome to join us,” Mary Charlotte said. “We meet at Jeremy’s mom’s house. She always makes a Bundt cake. It’s her specialty. Betty and I bring the liquor.”

“Speaking of liquor, would you like a mimosa?” Betty asked Carla.

“No, thank you, I’m not drinking,” Carla said.

Jeremy’s lips thinned, his shoulders tensing.

“Not drinking?” Mary Charlotte asked, her head cocked in attention. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no,” Carla said. “I don’t have a problem or anything. I’m just not drinking…today.”

“Just don’t say anything else,” Jeremy advised, putting his heads in his hands.

“Really,” Carla said. “I’m just taking a break.”

“You’re pregnant,” Mary Charlotte said, her voice firm.

“What?” Carla asked, the color draining from her face again. “What?”

“Oh. My. God,” Jeremy said. “Honey, please don’t say anything else.”

Everyone had stopped eating and was looking across the table at Carla.

“Oh, this is good,” Betty said. “I’m glad I got to see this before I kicked off.”

“Really, I’m just not drinking
today
,” Carla said, nodding her head.

“Nobody just stops drinking for the heck of it,” Betty said. “It’s not natural. There’s always some reason.”

Jeremy leaned over to look at Uncle Tommy.

“I didn’t say a thing,” Uncle Tommy said.

“She IS pregnant,” Mary Charlotte said. “I knew it. She’s got that pale, I’m about to lose my cookies kind of glow to her.”

“Oh my,” Aunt Shirley said, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with her napkin. “And on Mother’s Day, too. What a testament to motherhood.”

“So, how far along are you?” Betty asked. “Craving anything yet? Pickles? Ice cream? Anchovies?”

“Here, have some olives,” Harry said, passing a giant serving bowl full of green olives down the table. “They’re kind of like pickles.”

Carla sat still, her eyes wide, clutching the edge of the table. “What just happened?” she croaked. “I didn’t say anything.”

Jeremy put an arm around her. “You gave them an opening with the drinking thing. They were on that like stink on a monkey.”

“There’s a monkey here?” Betty asked loudly. “I’m not very fond of monkeys since that incident at the petting zoo.”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said. “There’s a reason they should be wearing kid’s diapers.”

“Ewwww,” Annalisa said, making a face.

“Isn’t your family like this?” Jeremy asked Carla. “I thought they were as crazy as us.”

“I don’t think my family is
this
crazy,” Carla said.

Aunt Shirley gasped, and everyone leaned back from the table.

“Well, okay, they’re as crazy as this,” Carla said. “Only in a different way. That wasn’t an insult at all.”

Everyone sighed with relief and returned to their miniature food.

“I just don’t know all the rules yet, I guess,” Carla said.

“Rules?” Mary Charlotte asked, perking up. “We’ve got rules?”

“Every family has rules,” Carla answered. “In our family we never talk about family business at the dinner table. Nobody says the rules it out loud, but everybody
knows
what they are.”

“I see,” Betty said. “But I really don’t think we have any of those in our family.”

“Every family has rules,” Annalisa said with conviction. “I learned that in psychology class, too.”

“What about not eating the fish from Alphonso’s deli?” Charlie asked.

“Fish! No fish from Alphonso’s!” Aunt Lucinda shouted, roused from her stupor. “Never fish from Alphonso’s.”

“Is there something wrong with Alphonso’s fish?” Carla asked.

“Well, there’s a story to that,” Harry said. “It has to do with a poker game, a truck filled with dry ice, and the garbage dumpster in back of the deli.”

“I think Carla can use her imagination on that one,” Jeremy said. “The bottom line is that we never eat fish from the deli. That’s one of our family rules.”

“Another one of our rules is that if you’re pregnant, you have to tell the whole family,” Mary Charlotte said.

“You just made that up,” Charlie said. He turned to Carla. “You don’t have to answer that question. It’s not in the family rule book. If you had eloped to get married, on the other hand, that’s in the rule book. You’d have to tell everybody if you eloped.”

Carla paled and leaned back in her chair.

Jeremy’s eyes went blank with shock and surprise.

“You did not,” Aunt Shirley said, clutching the edge of the table. “You did not elope.”

“Charlie, you have an uncanny ability to hit the nail on the head,” Harry told him. “It’s really quite a talent.”

Tears sprang to Aunt Shirley’s eyes. “You got married? Away from the family? You didn’t have the traditional family pre-wedding breakfast, the traditional passing of the family crest, the traditional service at St. Peter and Paul’s church with Father Delaney?”

“Maybe she was pregnant first,” Betty suggested. “Maybe they had to get married.”

“Discretion!” Aunt Shirley exclaimed, her voice rising. “Could we have a little discretion please!”

An olive came flying over from the kids’ table and landed in Betty’s mimosa glass. Liquid splashed onto the tablecloth, an orange juice stain creeping across the table’s surface.

“We’re under attack!” Betty shouted, covering her head with her hands. “Take cover!”

Another olive came flying over, landing in Uncle Tommy’s water glass. Water splashed up into his face, dripping off the tip of his nose.

Uncle Tommy’s face was impassive, but the entire room went completely silent. Stephen sat at the kids’ table, his mouth hanging wide open in surprise.

Uncle Tommy calmly shook out his SpongeBob napkin and dried his face.

“I think everyone should take a deep breath,” Uncle Tommy said quietly. His voice commanded attention, and everyone took a moment to compose themselves.

Jeremy gave Uncle Tommy a long look, then turned to Carla. She nodded in silent agreement.

“We have an announcement to make,” Jeremy said.

“I knew it,” Mary Charlotte said.

“Just how did you find out?” Jeremy asked. “We haven’t told anyone.”

“Hmmm…I just have the shine,” Mary Charlotte said. She lowered her voice in reverence. “It’s one of God’s gifts He’s given me.”

“One of God’s gifts, my patootie,” Jeremy exclaimed. “I’m guessing you got your information from one of your contacts at the hall of records.”

Aunt Shirley covered a hand over her mouth in shock, and Betty’s mouth hung wide open.

“Sorry, God,” Jeremy said, looking up at the ceiling. “No disrespect. I just don’t believe for one moment that Mary Charlotte got her information from You.”

“Is there always so much dysfunction at the grown-up table?” Annalisa asked. “I didn’t think the family dynamics would be so…volatile.”

“Violin” Betty asked, smiling with anticipation. She looked around the room. “We have a violin this year?”