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Probably to anyone else everything looked fine on the outside with Kelsey. But Nick had a gut instinct that everything wasn't fine. Her home, although unpretentious, looked as though it belonged in one of those house magazines. It looked too perfect; there was nothing out of place, as though no one really lived there.
Where were the unfinished books that should have been lying on her coffee table in her living room? Or the misplaced earring, that pinched too tightly, or a shoe that offended her all day. Where had all the personal pictures of her family gone? Surely she had some. Where was the real Kelsey?
She was a wound up lady who needed to be unwound—slowly. And he wouldn't mind being the gentleman to unwind her.
His eyes swept the letter again. She had graduated SMU a magna cum laude, with a MBA. He wasn't surprised. A list of organizations she belonged to filled one whole page. Some of which surprised him, she actively supported Junior Achievement, and Parents without Partners. Charities she endorsed filled another, one of which was CARE, Inc., Feed the Children, and Right to Life. He read every one of them, and with each one gained new respect for her.
According to the report, Kelsey spent very little time on the social scene, and when she did it was only with prominent business men. Must be the 'circles' she talked about, he mused. Nick wondered about those circles, about the men in those circles. A tinge of jealousy lingered in his mind. Why hadn't some of her blue-blooded friends volunteered for this job?
"Wonder if she's ever ridden a Ferris wheel, or ate a hot dog smothered in 'kraut and onions."
"What was that dear?" Mama came into the room, her face sweaty from cooking all afternoon, her smile warm and comforting.
"Nothin' Mama."
His mother blew the hair from her face, "Must be somethin', you never read the mail."
Nick quickly set the papers aside, deciding not to indulge his mother's curiosity any further. He put the unopened envelope in his hip pocket. The less said about Kelsey O'Sullivan, the better.
As though his mother read minds she popped off, "So, whatever happened between you and that Kelsey O'Sullivan girl?"
"Nothin' happened, Mama. I told you she was just an acquaintance."
"I liked her, Nicky. She was quite pretty, and a real lady. Seemed to have some brains too. She's nothing like what you used to bring home."
"You liked her? You don't even know her, Mama. How can you like her when you only just met her? And she isn't pretty, Mama. Sophisticated maybe, but not pretty."
"It doesn't have to take a lifetime to recognize quality in a person, Nicky. She's a nice girl. A mother knows these things. Trust me. Such nice bone structure, she'd give you lots of fine children. And what, Nicky, are you blind? She is very pretty."
Mama's words struck a nerve Nick hadn't expected. He practically jumped out of the chair. Beautiful children? Pretty? All he needed was his mother singing Kelsey's praises.
Despite his effort not to give into his mother, he smiled. "Now you're getting way ahead of yourself, Mama."
"Don't you like her, anymore?"
Nick threw the papers on the table by his chair and glanced indulgently at his mother, "Sure, she's—okay. She's a nice lady, like you said. But not for me."
"Why not?"
"Because she's not our kind of people, Mama."
"Oh, you mean because she's not Italian."
"That and other things." Nick agreed, hoping that would deter his mother from her match-making.
"I liked her, Nicky, even if she isn't Italian. And usually I don't like the non-Italian girls you bring home. Doesn't that say something for her?"
Nick crossed his arms in front of himself, and stared his mother down, unable to shake this stubborn, opinionated woman. "Okay, so what did you like about her? The glasses, the tight hairdo, the fact that she's a little crazy?"
His mother was silent a moment, a frown puckering her forehead, "I don't know really. It's not something one might see on the outside. There's real quality in her Nicky, and something else. Something I can't explain. Except—I watched her facial expressions with you and Tony. For such a stranger, she seemed to really care, to be concerned. And she was very polite, not a talker, like some you've brought home. She didn't giggle every time she opened her mouth. She had such a quiet dignity about her. And sadness I couldn't help but notice."
"That quiet dignity is called sophistication, Mama. Like I said, she's not our kind of people."
"Why, she got money or something?"
"Yes, she's got lots of money, Mama." How could he argue with his mother, when deep down, he agreed with her. Kelsey was different than any woman he'd ever been close to. At times she seemed so down to earth; he almost forgot she did have money.
"Ha," his mother huffed, "Since when does a Leonetti judge someone by the amount of money they have? At least this girl seemed to have a mind."
