'I know that. Go away!'
Ten minutes later I clattered down the stairs in my high-heeled strappy sandals, the swirly skirt, and a stretchy top. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. I didn't have a lot of clothes at Joe's house.
'Nice,' Joe said, eyes on the skirt. 'I'm going to have fun this outfit when we get home. You have panties on, right?'
'Right.'
'I don't suppose you'd want to take them off.'
'I don't suppose.'
'Doesn't hurt to ask,' Morelli said with a grin. 'It would make dinner more interesting.'
EVERYONE WAS AT the table when we arrived. Joe's mom was at the head. Grandma Bella was next to her, then Mary Elizabeth. Joe's sister, Cathy, was next to Mary Elizabeth. Joe's Uncle Mario was at the foot of the table. Cathy's husband was seated across from her. Joe and I were seated across from Mary Elizabeth and Bella.
'Sorry we're late,' Joe said. 'Cop business.' Mary Elizabeth was looking very happy. She had an empty highball glass in front of her and a half-empty wineglass. 'More like monkey business,' she said.
Bella shook her finger at Joe. 'All the Morelli men are sex fiends.'
'Hey,' Uncle Mario said, 'how's that to talk?' Mario was Bella's first cousin and the only male Morelli left from Bella's generation. Morelli men weren't especially long-lived. Mario was small and wrinkled, but still had a full head of wiry black hair. It was rumored he colored it with shoe polish.
Grandma Bella fixed an eye on Mario. 'Are you telling me you're not a sex fiend?'
'There's a difference between an Italian stallion and a sex fiend. I'm an Italian stallion.'
Joe filled our wineglasses. 'Salute,' he said.
Everyone held their glasses high. 'Salute.'
'I didn't see you in church today,' Grandma Bella said to Joe.
'I had to miss today,' Joe said.
And last week. And the week before that. And come to think of it, last time Joe was in church was Christmas.
'I prayed for you,' Bella told him.
Joe took a sip of wine and looked at Bella over the rim of his glass. 'Thanks.'
'And I prayed that the bambinos would get over the death of their mother.'
Joe's mother gripped her wineglass and narrowed her eyes at Bella. I stopped breathing. Everyone else slumped in their seat with an oh boy, here it comes sigh.
'The bambinos?' Joe asked.
'You will have many bambinos. The mother will die. It will be very sad. I saw it in a vision.'
I bit down hard on my lower lip. My poor little bambinos!
'Don't worry,' Bella said to me. 'It's not you. The woman in the vision was blond.'
CHAPTER 11
JOE DRANK MORE wine and draped an arm around my shoulders. 'At least you're not the dead woman in this vision.'
Mrs. Morelli threw a dinner roll at him and hit him in the head. 'That's a stupid thing to say to a woman. Sometimes you're just like your father.' She crossed herself and looked penitent. 'God rest his soul.'
Everyone at the table crossed themselves except Joe. 'God rest his soul,' everyone said.
'And you' Mrs. Morelli said to her mother-in-law. 'No more with the visions.'
'I can't help I have visions,' Grandma Bella said. 'I'm an instrument of God.'
This brought on a lot more crossing and Uncle Mario muttered something that I think included the words devil woman.
Bella turned on Mario. 'You watch your step, old man. I'll put the eye on you.'
The table went silent. No one wanted to mess with the eye. The eye was Italian voodoo.
While all this was going on, Mary Elizabeth had put away three glasses of wine. 'I love a party,' Mary Elizabeth said, her words slightly slurred, her eyes slightly crossed. She raised her wineglass. 'Here's to me!'
We all raised our wineglasses. 'To Mary Elizabeth!'
When we were all stuffed with chicken in red sauce and meatballs and macaroni casseroles, Mrs. Morelli brought out the desserts. Plates of Italian cookies from People's bakery, fresh-filled cannoli from Panorama Musicale, cheeses from Porfirio's, and the birthday cake from Little Italy.
By now it was sweltering in the Morelli dining room. All the windows were open and Mrs. Morelli had brought a fan in to circulate air. Sweat was running down my breastbone, soaking my shirt. My hair was stuck to my face and my mascara was not living up to its waterproof promise. No one cared about the heat. Everyone but Joe and his mom was shit-faced, me included.
Candles were lit on the cake, raising the room temperature by another ten degrees. We all sang 'Happy Birthday,' Mary Elizabeth blew out the candles, and Mrs. Morelli made the first cut in the cake.
Grandma Bella slammed her hands palms down on the table and tossed her head back. She was having a vision.
