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He rolled his eyes. “If I get you the raise, then will you do the interviews?”
“In a word?”
He laughed abruptly. “All right.”
“Then we understand each other.”
“Hold your horses. I have to clear it with the Committee. That’ll take time.”
“My Court-TV interview was at three o’clock today. I can reschedule it if you get right back to me. Otherwise who knows when my schedule will allow-”
“Enough already.” He scowled. “Then we have a deal?”
“If the number’s right. Why don’t you call me back with an offer? I don’t want to put you on the spot now.”
Mack turned toward the door, shaking his head. “I should’ve known you’d pull a stunt like this.”
“Fu
“You’re learning, kid,” he said as he opened the door.
“Is that a good thing?”
“In a word?” He smirked, and I smirked back. The word I was thinking of was: Not on your life.
“And Mack?” I called after him. “I want a laptop, too.”
“Why?”
“For show. I want to put it on my desk and not use it, like the big boys.”
“No,” he said flatly.
I took it as a maybe.
32
A lot happened in the next year. My father recovered from his injuries, although his eyesight worsened and he had to have an operation on his Cadillacs. His emotional state rebounded slowly, and he hated to see the shop finally sold. We spent Sunday mornings visiting LeVo
Uncle Sal and Betty got married and bought his-and-her Harleys. Cam sold the equipment from Lawns ’R Us, took the proceeds to the track, and made a bundle on the Trifecta. Herman amassed a respectable chip collection, and his daughter Mindy became my best friend and maid of honor. By the morning of my wedding day so much had happened I had forgotten about any alleged bet.
“You’re out of your mind,” I told my father. “What bet?”
“We made a bet, Rita,” he said. “You and me.” He squinted at the mirror through his new glasses and straightened his rented bow tie. We were getting ready to go into the private anteroom at the Horticultural Center in Fairmount Park.
“I didn’t make any bet with you.” I stood next to him, appraising myself in the mirror. An ivory sheath that fit only when I inhaled, more crow’s-feet than last year, and a horrified expression. I was ready to be married. “I wouldn’t bet about a thing like that.”
“My daughter?”
“All right, maybe I would.” And even though I was getting married, I hadn’t quit poker. With a great deal of prodding, my future husband decided he would at least try the game and join us on Tuesday nights. “But I still don’t remember any bet.”
“Fifty dollars sound familiar?”
“Fifty?” I was too jittery to think. Everyone was out there waiting. Fiske and Kate. Mack and half my firm, including Janine. Cam, Herman and Essie, Sal and Betty. David Moscow and his bread-baking lover. Only the press was excluded; I didn’t care if I never saw another reporter in my life. Just last week I had declined another offer for a TV movie. Based on a true story, my ass.
“We made the bet when I was in the hospital,” he said. “On who you’d marry, remember?”
The first strains of Purcell’s “Trumpet Voluntary” floated through the door, and my mouth went dry. “Dad, we have to go.” I grabbed his arm, tottering on stiff ivory pumps, and we hustled together out of the anteroom.
“We made it when I was sick, in the hospital. Not the eye operation, the time before.”
We stood arm in arm at the entrance to the main room, waiting for our cue. The room was actually a huge greenhouse, with white wooden chairs set in rows amid exotic hibiscus and fragrant gardenia. Rubber and palm trees grew all around, and tiny white lights twinkled from the tropical foliage. It was pretty, but hotter than I’d ever expected. Only Italians would rent humidity in a Philadelphia summer.
“Rita, remember? I bet you fifty dollars that you’d marry Paul.”
The music swelled, our cue came, and we stumbled forward onto the white paper ru
“Yeah. Remember now?”
I looked at Paul, who smiled back at me nervously. My heart actually fluttered, he always looked so handsome in a tux. Tall and strong, with nice, long sideburns. “You actually bet I’d marry Paul, Dad?”
My father nodded as we passed the last row of guests. Heads turned when we walked by. Everyone I knew, everyone I loved, gri
“Sucker,” I said.
And he laughed.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Rita Morrone was harder to contain than most Italian girls, so I needed a great deal of advice in writing this book. I relied heavily and shamelessly on Lieutenant Jerry Gregory of the Radnor Police Department, who gave me so much of his time and expertise. I can’t thank him enough, and hope he’ll forgive the liberties I’ve taken here with his lovely police station, which is cleaner than my house. Special thanks, too, to Detective John Moroney (no relation, merely excellent karma) and Detective Le
This was the first time I was published between hardcovers, and for that I want to thank Geoff Ha
Permit me a kind word to the staff at HarperCollins, who have worked so hard on my behalf, including Laura Baker, publicist extraordinaire, her assistant, Marshall Trow, and the sales representatives. No author ever acknowledges the sales reps, but they should, because their efforts, though unseen, are the reason this book gets from me to you. Thank you, all of you. And for the Krispy Kremes, Bruce Unck.
Heartfelt thanks to my agent, Linda Hayes of Columbia Literary Associates, who made it all happen and who looks out for me and my work every day, and to Maggie Field of the Maggie Field Agency.
Thank you to the Giuntas in the Italian Market, and to Gene and Arlene Grossblatt, who taught me about gambling chip collecting. Many thanks to author, nurse, and friend Eileen Dreyer, as well as Pat Isenberg and Helene Tulsky, all for medical advice given at a most inconvenient time. Judge Hamilton’s favorite chess book, and mine, too, is Chess in Literature (Avon, 1974), edited by Marcello Truzzi.
All my love to my father and Fayne, and to my mother. To Rachel Kull, Franca Palumbo, and Sandy Steingard. To Kiki, a gem. And to Peter Tobey, who changed everything.
Finally, to the memory of Uncle Mikey, Uncle Domenic, and Uncle Rocky. All of them are very much with me, and each deserves a book to himself. Someday they’ll get it.