“Mrs. DePino assigned the cookie trays. We start baking after Labor Day. The girls are wearing pink, I’m wearing yellow, and Connie DePino is wearing green.”
“Like a Christmas tree. She’ll sparkle like one of those clowns in the Mummer’s Day Parade,” Uncle Dom promised.
“You’re talking about Nicky’s future mother-in-law.”
“So? They’re not blood.”
“But she will be family to him. Watch what you say,” Aunt Jo said firmly.
Nicky rapped a teaspoon on the table. “Uncle Dom, I need a favor.”
“I don’t believe you’ve ever asked me for one.”
“I haven’t.”
“Well, make it a doozy, because evidently I owe you.”
“Can we put posters on the cabs to advertise the play at Borelli’s?”
“What kind of play?” Gio asked.
“Shakespeare. They do Shakespeare,” Mabel barked. “Don’t you have any culture?”
“Not presently,” Gio retorted. “A cream from Rexall’s cleared it right up.”
“Twelfth Night. That’s the play we’re doing now,” Nicky explained.
“I don’t see why not. But no signs on number four. That car is going back as soon as I can make the arrangements.”
“What’s so terrible you’re returning the car?”
“It’s not important, Dominic.”
“Ma, we’re all veterans,” Dominic said, and looked at his brothers. “We’ve seen the worst.”
“Tell ’em, Nicky.” Uncle Dom removed the napkin he had tucked in his collar from his shirt. It was sprayed with polka dots of red sauce where he’d dripped gravy from the cavatelli. “Go on, tell everybody what happened in the cab.”
“I’d rather not.” Nicky motioned to Nonna, asleep in her chair.
“She’s out like a sack of chestnuts,” Uncle Dom promised.
“It’s unsavory,” Gio said, picking his teeth.
“You know?” Mabel looked at her husband. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I don’t like to burden you.”
“You don’t mind cleaning out my savings account when you want to gamble, but a stupid car story you keep secret?”
“It’s not like that,” Gio countered.
“See what you started, Dominic? Get the jelly roll, please,” Jo instructed Elsa.
“Here’s what happened, since my nephew is too schkeeved to impart the story. The fare gets in the cab—where were you?”
“Ambler.”
“That’s a good fare to the airport,” Gio confirmed.
“The fare gets in the car. The wife is in the car. The man collapses. In a flash, Nicky drives him to the nearest hospital. The wife is unglued.”
“Her husband is sick, Pop, of course she’s upset,” Mabel said, looking around the table for support.
“They get to the hospital, but before they can load him on a gurney, the man has a massive heart attack in number four.”
“Oh, Nicky,” Lena said, her hand on her heart.
“And he died,” Nicky said softly.
The family murmured their regrets. Mabel made the sign of the cross.
“But they brought him back inside the hospital with the paddles. But it didn’t take. He died anyway.” Dom hit his chest with his fist.
“I went to his funeral.”
“To collect the tip?” Nino joked.
Everyone laughed except Nicky.
“To pay my respects.”
“You hardly knew the guy,” Nino said softly.
“True.” Nicky nodded.
“People come through your life and you don’t know why, they have an effect on you,” Aunt Jo said reassuringly.
“He happened to have an effect on me too. He ruined my cab,” Dom added.
“I slept for twelve years in the bed Nonno died in, and you didn’t get me a new one. Why do you have to trade in a perfectly good car?” Nino wanted to know.
“Because the man died in my car, in my fleet, and I don’t want that story rolling around South Philly connected to my cab company. Okay? We’re a class operation, and that’s the kind of story that kills business. Pronto gets wind of this, they’ll embellish the story and steal our business and print money on our misfortune. I worked too hard to throw everything away on a fluke accident on an airport run. Now, I’ve made my final decision. Nicky, you’re driving the sedan until I can get up to my buddy Lou Caruso on Staten Island and trade in number four.”
“Are you going to tell your car dealer what happened?” Jo asked. “Why should he get saddled with a death car?”
“Now you choose to speak?” Dom looked at his wife. “There’s nothing wrong with the engine. The car is three years old, hardly a clunker.”
“It’s like pawning a wedding ring when the marriage doesn’t work out. It’s bad luck,” Lena reasoned.
“Or it’s good luck for the person who buys a stone on the cheap and is ignorant of the origins of it and gets it reset and lives happily ever after with a big, hulking diamond on her hand,” Dom chided his daughter-in-law.
“I just think you need to tell your dealer that something unfortunate happened in the car, so it’s all out in the open up front,” Jo offered.
“Okay, now you’re forcing me to say the worst.”
“That’s not necessary, Dom,” Jo fired back.
“What could be worse than dying?” Gio pondered.
“When the fare had the massive heart attack in my car . . .”
“Dom, I’m warning you.” Jo meant it.
“He soiled himself.”
“He what?” The meatball in Nino’s stomach flipped like a softball. He put down his fork.
“You heard him.” Mabel made a face. “I have a very weak stomach.”
“I didn’t. But I do now,” Lena grumbled.
“Now you’ve upset the entire family!” Jo raised her voice to her husband.
“Jo, they need to know. As for Car Number Four: I’m going to do what I do the way I do what I do. Period. The facts: The customer had a pain, he had a heart attack, he died, and he shat. The car goes back. End of story.”
Elsa entered from the kitchen, placing the dessert plates on the table.
“I’m going to break it off with Peachy,” Nicky said softly.
Dominic turned to his cousin. “You like living in the basement that much?”
“What happened?” Lena asked.
“What did you do?” Mabel wanted to know.
“Nothing.” Nicky leaned back in his chair.
“Are you all right, Nick?” Elsa asked gently.
“No, I’m not.”
“See what you’ve done?” Aunt Jo glared at her husband.
“What do I have to do with this?”
“Selling his car out from under him. Upsetting the order of things around here. You caused Nicky to vacillate! This was a man who was certain of his decision, and now he’s confused.” Aunt Jo faced Nicky. “You can’t break the engagement.”
“Why can’t he?” Dom interjected. “Cancel the cookie trays. Return the swatches to Connie DePino. She can wear her green sequins and her big hat to the Knights of Columbus Weenie Roast.”
Elsa went into the kitchen.
“I don’t care about the clothes,” Aunt Jo told him. “I don’t care about the desserts. I care about Nicky. He loves Peachy—he’s loved her for seven years. That’s not for nothing. You don’t just throw all that away. That’s something. He’s at a time in his life when he should be married.”
“I agree with you, Aunt Jo. But I’m having thoughts.”
“What kind of thoughts?”