Unholy Matrimony (3 page)

“We’re not rebuilding the house. We’ve sold the property to a developer.” Alex pulled a toothpick from his pocket and stuck it into the corner of his mouth. “He’s going to buy up the houses around our lot and build some high-priced condos. New Providence is becoming a lot more upscale, you know. Not like in our day.”

The information hit Lucille like a blow. Not rebuild Louis and Millie’s house? What were they going to do? What was
she
going to do? Frankie had put the pool table in storage, and a couple of buddies had helped him build a partition separating that end of the rec room in two. They’d charged a pair of twin beds and some cheap dressers. The setup wasn’t meant to be permanent.

“You got to be kidding. Right?” Lucille looked at Alex and then Donna for confirmation. Donna looked down at her plate and Alex continued to smile his fake smile.

“You can’t do that,” Lucille protested, her voice rising. A couple of people at the table next to them turned in their direction.

“We can do anything we want,” Donna snapped.

“Come on,” Lucille pleaded. “Louis and Millie have nowheres to go.”

“That doesn’t concern us.” Donna stuck her nose in the air. “It’s not our fault those two useless bums burned down the house.”

“Hey,” Lucille’s voice rose further and more people began turning their heads in her direction. “Who are you calling useless bums? Louis and Millie are family.” She gestured toward Frank. “They’re Frank’s father’s cousins.”

“They’re not
our
family.” A dark red flush crept up Donna’s chest toward her face.

“Sure they are. We’re all family now.” Lucille pointed at Bernadette and Taylor. “Our two kids is getting married.”

“The only reason we’re letting our son marry that . . . that trampy daughter of yours is because . . .” Donna said before clamping her mouth firmly shut.

“Trampy, huh? I’ll give you trampy.” Lucille leaned across Frank and grabbed hold of Donna’s dress.

By now most of the room had quit eating and was focusing all their attention on Lucille and Donna, as eager for blood as an audience at a prizefight.

Donna jumped up and gave Lucille a shove, sending her careening backward into the table behind them. One of the women squealed as her glass overturned and water dripped onto her lap.

Flo sprang to her feet. “You can’t do that to my friend.” She picked up her plate of half-eaten cake and, with more than thirty years of pent-up anger, smashed it into Donna’s face.

Meanwhile Lucille had rebounded and was about to grab Donna again when Frankie got hold of her arm and yanked her back. He put out his other arm to ward off Flo, who was leaning in for further attack.

“Come on, Lu. Flo. Get a grip. Think of the kids.”

Lucille slid back into her chair, chest heaving, her face settling into a pout. She glanced at Bernadette, who was calmly polishing off the last bite of her cake. Taylor was leaning over the back of his chair talking earnestly with a young man at the table behind him. It was the most animated Lucille had ever seen him.

She and Donna eyed each other and then looked away quickly. Donna picked up her napkin and began wiping the cake off her face. Flo resumed her seat and straightened her dress. She’d come perilously close to what the newspapers and those trashy magazines had taken to calling a wardrobe malfunction.

Taylor continued to talk to the young man behind him, but the rest of them finished their dessert and coffee in silence.

Lucille’s heartbeat refused to go back to normal. She was thinking furiously. On the one hand, she wanted to stand up and walk out, taking Bernadette with her. On the other hand, there was the matter of Bernadette being pregnant and not having a husband. Lucille read the papers—she knew all about them “baby daddies” the Hollywood stars had instead of husbands. That was fine for them. Hollywood was a different world. No one like old Mrs. De Stefano or that stuck-up Gina Battaglia from St. Rocco’s Flower Committee was going to raise their eyebrows at the stars. But Bernadette? Lucille folded her arms across her chest. She’d just have to let Donna win this one, as much as it was going to kill her.

But she made damn sure she was the one to grab the centerpiece off the table when it came time to leave. She walked out of the Pantagis Renaissance holding it high like a trophy. Donna may have won round one, but Lucille was ready and waiting for round two.

On a positive note, Flo seemed to be talking to her again, and that made Lucille happy.

• • •

“Man, I’m tired,” Frankie groaned as he and Lucille got ready for bed.

Lucille wasn’t tired at all. As a matter of fact, she was feeling rather frisky. She took a little extra time in the bathroom, dabbing some perfume behind her ears and putting a dash of powder on her nose. She didn’t wrap toilet paper around her set the way she normally did to preserve it but tidied her hair instead. Besides, she had an appointment at the Clip and Curl to get it done for the wedding.

Her old nightgown with the hole under the arm was hanging on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. Lucille left it there and tiptoed into the bedroom. Frank was already stretched out in bed, his eyes half closed. Lucille quietly opened her dresser drawer and took out the fancy chiffon nightgown Frankie had given her for her birthday a couple of years back. She hardly ever wore it, what with it needing to be washed separately and then air dried instead of being dumped into the dryer with the rest of the clothes.

Lucille carefully slipped it over her head. Feathers lined the low, scooped neckline, and for a second Lucille thought she was going to sneeze. She pressed a finger under her nose and stifled it. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror and frowned. Maybe she’d better dim the lights a little.

Lucille slipped under the covers and scooted across the bed until she was pressed up close to Frankie. He grunted.

“Frankie,” Lucille said in her most seductive voice as she ran her fingers up and down his back.

No answer.

“Frankie,” Lucille said a little more loudly as her fingers wandered around to all the places she knew he liked.

Frank inched away from her. “Go to sleep, Lucille. I’m tired, okay?”

Stunned, Lucille inched over to the other side of the bed and clutched the covers to her chest. What on earth had gotten into Frankie? Normally it took next to nothing to get him interested.

She remembered earlier that evening how he’d avoided her kiss. Wasn’t he attracted to her no more? Maybe she ought to talk to that plastic surgeon Flo had started working for. And go back on her diet.

She’d never had to worry about stuff like that before. Frankie had always been hot for her no matter what—even when her hair needed doing or she was dressed in the old sweats she wore to clean the house.

Thoughts went around and around in Lucille’s head, keeping her awake till way past midnight.

Chapter 3

Lucille’s alarm went off at seven o’clock. She desperately wanted to turn over and go back to sleep, but with the wedding at two p.m. there was no time to waste. She was surprised to find herself wearing her
special occasion
nightgown, as she thought of it, but then the events of the evening before came flooding back. She glanced at the bed. Frankie was still asleep, one foot stuck outside the covers. He always said he was too hot with both feet under the blankets. Lucille couldn’t imagine what difference it made, but it was one of those things that made Frankie Frankie.

She was tempted to wake him—just to see if she could stir a little something up. But she was scared. What if he rejected her again? She couldn’t understand it—it wasn’t like they’d had some kind of argument or anything. But even then, she’d never known Frankie to turn away.

Lucille decided to leave well enough alone. She pulled on her bathrobe and went downstairs to make the coffee.

It was kind of nice sitting in the kitchen all by herself. Louis and Millie hadn’t surfaced yet, and Bernadette was still asleep. She slept a lot these days, probably on account of the pregnancy. Come to think of it, she used to sleep a lot before getting pregnant. The only time Lucille could remember Bernadette not wanting to sleep was when she was three months old.

Lucille sat at the table with her cup of coffee and a slice of coffee cake. She’d been trying to diet so as to fit into a smaller size for the wedding, but it hadn’t gone very well. Now it didn’t matter with the wedding only a few hours off.

She was picking the crumbs off her plate and contemplating a second piece when she heard footsteps on the stairs, and Bernadette sidled into the room. She opened the refrigerator and stood in front of it, idly scratching her belly.

“You want some eggs?” Lucille jumped up from the table. “I could make you some nice fried eggs and a little toast maybe.”

Bernadette shook the hair out of her eyes. “Pancakes,” she said, closing the door.

“You want pancakes? Okay, fine. You sit and I’ll get them going. But we don’t have all day. You have your hair appointment, and I have mine. And we want to leave plenty of time to get to the church so we don’t have to rush.” Lucille pushed aside the kitchen curtain. “Look, it’s a beautiful day. That’s a good omen.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to get married.”

Lucille didn’t pause in what she was doing—mixing flour and milk and eggs and getting some butter melting in the frying pan. If she didn’t stop, then maybe Bernadette’s words would go away. Lucille had already poured the first pancakes when she realized this tactic wasn’t going to work.

She turned around, hands on hips. “What do you mean, you don’t want to get married?”

Bernadette shrugged. “I just got a text from Tony. He’s on his way back from Afghanistan and wants to talk.” Bernadette twirled a piece of hair around and around her finger.

“Are you crazy?” Lucille’s voice began to rise and she hastened to lower it. “Everything’s all set—the church, the flowers, your dress. The Towne Deli is making up the platters of cold cuts and Mrs. De Stefano and Mrs. De Pasquale have been working on the lasagnas since dawn.” Lucille paused for breath. “And what about the cake? Huh? They’re making it special just the way you wanted.”

Bernadette continued to twirl the hair around her finger.

Frankie, Lucille thought frantically. He’d talk some sense into Bernadette. It would all be okay. She’d just keep on doing what she needed to do, and before they knew it Bernadette would be walking down the aisle and Father Brennan would be declaring Bernadette and Taylor man and wife.

Still, a pain was starting under Lucille’s left rib. She hoped she wasn’t having no heart attack or what her neighbor, Mrs. Esposito, had—it sounded like vagina, but Lucille was pretty sure that wasn’t it. Maybe she was just stressed out. First worrying about Frankie and then all this nonsense with Bernadette.

As long as she kept busy and didn’t think about it, everything would be okay.

She dished out a stack of golden brown pancakes for Bernadette, got the syrup from the fridge, and put a couple of flapjacks on her own plate. She might as well have a little something more to eat. Chances were she wouldn’t be having no lunch today on account of being so busy, and the wedding reception probably wouldn’t start until nearly five o’clock. By the time Mrs. De Pasquale put out her famous antipasto, Lucille would be starved.

Lucille sat opposite Bernadette and watched as Bernadette demolished a stack of pancakes. At least all this drama wasn’t affecting her appetite none. Now that she was eating for two she couldn’t afford to skip meals.

Lucille finished up her pancakes and took her dish and Bernadette’s to the sink. She rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher. Bernadette had drifted out of the room, and Lucille could only pray that she was getting ready to go to the hairdresser and had gotten over this nonsense about Tony. He’d made it clear how he felt about marrying Bernadette and that was that.

• • •

Lucille had an appointment at the Clip and Curl with Rita. She’d been going to Rita for years now. Come to think of it, she’d been wearing her hair the same way for years too. Today would be no different, although maybe Rita could give her a little more lift in front and perhaps a few curls in back to make it look special.

Lucille got her dress out of the closet—a long, pale blue gown with a square neckline and matching jacket. Lucille thought it was awfully fancy for the hall at St. Rocco’s, but Donna said she was wearing a gown and insisted that Lucille do the same. Donna had wanted the reception to be black tie but Lucille had put her foot down. If the men wore black ties it would look like a funeral, not a wedding.

Lucille was about to leave when she noticed Millie’s cardigan draped over the kitchen chair. Millie was always cold—said the central air gave her a headache. Lucille had turned it down, and now no one was happy. Millie was still cold, and she, Frank and Bernadette were sweating. She really had to get the Grabowskis to reconsider about the house. Maybe if she gave Donna a call and sweet-talked her a bit. Donna always did like being complimented. Lucille picked up the phone and quickly dialed Donna’s cell phone. It rang and rang but no one picked up. Lucille sighed. Maybe she could have a word with Donna at the wedding. It couldn’t hurt.

Heat and humidity hit Lucille the minute she opened the garage door. She was going to have to ask Rita to go heavy on the spray if her hair was going to hold. At least it was sunny. Donna wanted the photographer to take some pictures outside, and Lucille couldn’t imagine the entire wedding party traipsing around in the rain.

Lucille glanced back at the house. She hoped Bernadette was getting ready. She’d asked Frankie to talk to her. Hopefully he had been able to get her to change her mind.

Lucille hung her dress in the backseat of the car. She planned on getting dressed at the church, but first she had to stop by the mall to pick up a pair of pantyhose. She thought she had a pair in the back of her lingerie drawer, but she couldn’t find them.

The Olds started on the first try. Lucille breathed a sigh of relief and, plugging in her tape of Little Richard performing “Lucille,” shot down the driveway and headed off.