Page 52 of Forked (Frenched 2)
“Nonsense, that one’s fine. Want some pizzelle?
Marie made them yesterday.” She opened up a large margarine container that actually had cookies in it. Old lady Tupperware. “We could have a snack out on the porch since the heat’s not so bad today.”
Marie was Nick’s mother. I’d always liked her, but I experienced a strange twist in my gut, realizing that I’d have to face all of Nick’s family tonight at the birthday dinner. What did they know? What would our story be? I’d have to ask Nick what he’d told them seven years ago, which meant opening the door to a conversation about our past.
But maybe it was time.
#
The last thing I needed was more food, but it was homemade pizzelle. I couldn’t say no. Nick and I each took one and followed Noni out onto the porch. She chose a rocker at one end, and Nick and I dropped into two chairs side by side. The first bite of my cookie—sweet and light and delicious—made me smile, remembering how Angelina had said anus when she meant anise.
“What’s funny?” Nick asked.
Giggling, I told them the story, cringing slightly when I had to utter the word anus in front of Noni. But Nick laughed out loud, shaking his head. “I can’t wait to meet this girl.”
“She’s quite a character.” I munched the last of my cookie and contemplated having another one.
“Hey, these chairs need a little paint, Noni.” Nick ran a hand along the peeling surface of one arm. “Do you have any? I can do them before I go tomorrow.”
“I think so. In the shed. You can ask your uncle Bill, he’d know.”
If I remembered right, Bill was the uncle that ran the farm, and his family lived in a home somewhere on the extensive property. But Nick had a lot of aunts and uncles and cousins—I never could keep them straight. “Hey, Nick,” I said, remembering our conversation about family history from last night, “let’s ask Noni about that picture.”
“What picture?” Noni asked.
“It’s a wedding photograph of Papa Joe and Tiny Lupo. My mother gave me a copy to put in the restaurant.”
“It’s a beautiful picture, and I was curious about when it was taken, and about the bride.” I nudged Nick’s foot with the toe of my sandal. “Nick didn’t know much about her, not even her name.”
Noni laughed, her cloudy blue eyes lighting up the way an old person’s do when talking about the distant past. “No one ever called her anything but Tiny, that’s why. Even I was taller than she was, and I was barely five foot two at my best. But her name was Frances. Frances O’Mara. She was Irish, a real hellcat.”
“Lupo men like hellcats.” Nick nudged me back.
“They sure do,” Noni agreed, giving me a decisive nod, the grandmother equivalent of a high five. “But Tiny was a sweetheart too. She knew how hard it was to come into this big Italian family and try to fit in. She was so kind to me all her life.”
“I was telling Coco that Papa Joe was a bootlegger during Prohibition,” Nick said.
She nodded. “That’s right, he was. Used to bring whiskey from Canada and run with gangsters. The stories they told…Like a movie or something.” She recounted tales of speakeasies and rum running and mob kidnappings. Each detail she recalled unlocked a dozen more from dusty corners of her mind, and Nick and I sat listening for close to an hour, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
“This is amazing,” I said. “Did all that really happen?”
Noni shrugg
ed. “They said it did. It’s a good story, anyway. Although the love story of Tiny and Papa Joe is wonderful too. I’ll have to tell you that one sometime.”
“Love at first sight?” I rhapsodized.
“Well, he said it was. She said she couldn’t stand him, not for years. But he wore her down.”
“We’re good at that.” Nick poked my shoulder.
Ignoring him, I leaned forward in my chair. “You should write all this down, Noni. I could help you,” I offered. “I could type as you talk about what you remember.”
“That’s a great idea,” Nick said.
“OK, sure.” Noni tilted her head. “You know, I think I have an old photo album of the Lupo family around here somewhere. Maybe in a trunk in the attic. I can’t get up there anymore but you kids could look.”
“We’ll definitely do that.” Nick stood and stretched. “Coco and I are going to take a run before dinner. Maybe a swim. Is that OK? Or do you need me to do anything for you now?”
