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“I don’t know, Anni—you tell me.”
She just shrugged her shoulders, at the same time smiling in anticipation as the doorbell rang and following me down the hallway.
I opened the front door to find Ma Veneti standing there—with a baseball bat.
And Napoleone and Christian stood behind her.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“You wanted to kill Annunciata!” Ma Veneti shrieked.
“Huh?”
“Because you thought she leaked to the Feds,” added Christian.
“That all happened a couple ofmonthsago,” I said.
“I happened to mention it to Ma this morning, so she’s only just found out about it,” shrugged Christian.
“Christian,” said Anni, “I told you that it was sorted out. It’s so sweet of you to come check on me, but you didn’t need to come all the way to Chicago.”
“You know what Ma’s like once she gets an idea in her head,” drawled Christian. “She insisted on paying a visit to check on things herself.”
“I never actually said I wanted tokillAnni,” I said, trying to hide my irritation. “And, as you can see, she’s still here, so I haven’t killed your daughter just yet. Which means you can relax and stop worrying.”
“Relax? Relax, he says!” She jabbed a finger toward me. “Don’t think that my son hasn’t told me all the things you’ve done to my Annunciata.”
I looked at Christian; he’d already lost interest in his ma’s ramblings, however, and was flicking through messages on his cell phone.
My gaze swung to Napoleone, but he too looked disinterested and was checking his watch as if wondering how long until he could leave.
“And what else am I supposed to have done to your daughter?” I asked, completely baffled at her attitude toward me.
“You threatened to get rid of Wilbur!”
I scowled at her. “Yet I didn’t—he’s still here. Unlike you, who got rid of the family cat as soon as Anni moved here,” I retorted.
“Nonsense! Anni was Wilbur’s favorite person. He would havepinedfor her if I hadn’t sent him to Chicago. I loved that cat, and it was aselflessact letting him go and sending him to Anni’s new home instead.”
“Ma,” interrupted Christian, “you know that’s not true. You don’t even like cats.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Christian,” she huffed.
“You called him the ‘fucking furball’ when Anni wasn’t around,” he pointed out.
“It was a term of endearment,” she snapped, waving a hand dismissively at him as if he were an annoying kid. “I loved that cat with all my heart—I wasinconsolablewhen I had to let him come to Chicago to be with Anni.”
“Look, Fantasia—,” I began.
She tightened her double-handed grip on the baseball bat. “I’ve told you already,” she screeched, “you’re to call me Ma!”
“Ma,” soothed Anni, “you’ve had a long journey. Why don’t you come in for coffee and see the children? And you’ll be able to see for yourself that Wilbur is doing fine.”
Anni’s mother needed no further invitation and pushed past me into the house. Walking past the den and seeing the kids, she shrieked, “Bambini!”
Clara and Clemente’s faces lit up as soon as they saw her, and they dashed into her outstretched arms. I really didn’t know what my children saw in this mad woman.
We all went through to the drawing room, and Adelina served coffee. Clara sat in Fantasia’s lap, cuddled against her, as the older lady passed her another piece of biscotti.
