"Think Twice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Scottoline Lisa)

Chapter Four

Mary DiNunzio was supposed to go down the shore for the weekend, but she was dying to meet her mysterious cousin, a widow named Fiorella Bucatina, in visiting from Italy. Everybody had crowded into her parents’ kitchen, stuffing it like a Marx Brothers stateroom, if the Marx Brothers were Italian-American. No matter how many people came over for dinner, her parents never ate in the dining room, which was reserved for Christmas, Easter, or some other occasion when something really good happened to Jesus Christ.

The kitchen was humid because Mary’s parents didn’t believe in air conditioners, microwaves, or anything invented after the demise of the Latin Mass. An ancient coffeepot percolated on the stove near photographs of the Holy Trinity-Sinatra, JFK, and Pope John-and a cast-iron switchplate held laminated Mass cards and split fronds of palm. The DiNunzios owned the Kitchen That Time Forgot, and Mary wouldn’t have it any other way.

Fresh basil, frying meatballs, and locatelli scented the air, and Tony Bennett was on the radio, but nobody could hear him because they were talking over each other. Mary’s father, Mariano “Matty” DiNunzio, hadn’t gotten a new battery for his hearing aid, so he was shouting about the Phillies with her boyfriend Anthony. Her mother Vita stood at the oven in her flowered housedress, stirring a dented pot of bubbling gravy and gesturing with her wooden spoon at Mary’s best friend, Judy Carrier. Judy had long ago become an honorary DiNunzio, despite her white-blond hair, Delft blue eyes, and upturned nose, though she always joked that they kept her around because she could reach the top shelf.

Suddenly there was a noise, and everybody turned at the sound of footsteps coming downstairs. Mary couldn’t help but feel a tingle of anticipation. “Ma,” she said, “is that Fiorella, queen of the witches?”

“Basta!” Her mother’s brown eyes flared behind her thick trifocals. “No make fun. Donna Fiorella, she has a strong powers, she’s a mos’ powerful strega in Abruzzi!”

“Not stronger than you, Ma.” Mary didn’t like her mother thinking that her superpowers were inferior.

“Sì, sì, yes. Her husband, he had the cancer. Donna Fiorella, she made it go away, pffft!”

“But he died, didn’t he?”

“Sì, a truck, it hit him.”

“VEET, I’M SO HUNGRY!” her father shouted, his hearing aid a plastic parenthesis behind his ear. He was dressed for the special occasion in his white short-sleeved shirt and baggy dark trousers. “WHY’S SHE TAKIN’ SO LONG?”

“Shhhh, Matty!” her mother said, brandishing her spoon like a lethal weapon.

“I’ve never met a witch queen,” Judy whispered.

“SHE’S NOT A WITCH QUEEN,” Mary and her father replied in unison, but only one of them was loud enough to be heard. A union tilesetter his working life, her father didn’t share her mother’s folkloric beliefs, but he loved her enough to tolerate them. Together a billion years, Mary’s parents were the Chang and Eng of married couples.

“Think she’ll look like Strega Nonna?” Judy asked. “A little old lady in orthopedic shoes?”

“No doubt.” Mary smiled. “I wish Bennie were here. She should see a little DiNunzio magic. Maybe if I had a witch in my corner, it would help me make partner.”

Judy laughed. “She’s probably still at work. Why don’t we call her? She might like a nice home-cooked meal.”

“Nah, she’s too busy. She wouldn’t want to come.”

“Maria, shhh!” her mother hissed. She’d had her hair done at the corner beauty parlor, where they teased it into a stormcloud to cover her bald spot. She patted it into place as Fiorella Bucatina appeared in the doorway and struck a pose.

The sight of her silenced all the chatter.