Mary shuddered, but said nothing. Her biggest nightmare was something terrible happening to her twin sister Angie, a former nun who was in Tanzania on yet another mission, saving a world that refused to be saved.
Allegra frowned deeply under her little cap. “I kept thinking and talking about Fiona, and what happened to her, and my parents worried I was getting obsessed. They sent me to a therapist, then to boarding school, but I wasn’t obsessed or depressed, and I’m still not.”
Bennie leaned over to Allegra. “So your parents believe Stall is guilty?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because of the evidence at the trial and because he pleaded guilty himself, in the end. They want the case to be over, but I want it to be right.”
“Allegra, you have to be realistic. It’s harder to find out what happened now than it was then.” Bennie opened her palms in appeal. “The case is six years old. Evidence may be lost or thrown away, and memories have faded.”
“I understand that, but I want to try. I can’t do it myself because I’m a kid.” Allegra met Bennie’s gaze behind her big glasses. “Ms. Rosato, you have a reputation as one of the best trial lawyers in the city, if not the country. You’ve defended many people who were wrongly accused. I want a do-over.”
“There’s no backsies in murder cases, Allegra.” Bennie seemed momentarily nonplussed, but Mary felt as if she could help out, since Bennie wasn’t good with kids or human beings, in general.
“Allegra, what she means is, this is a lot for a thirteen-year-old to deal—”
“That’s why I need a lawyer, and I’m not your typical thirteen-year-old, anyway. I’m a genius.”
“Pardon?” Mary smiled at the matter-of-fact way she said it, without a trace of arrogance.
“Really, I am, but being that smart only makes things worse.” Allegra’s lips flattened. “I know I’m weird, different. Kids make fun of me for everything, of my grades, the way I look, or my bees. They call me Allergy, Allergan, Bee Girl, Bee Geek, brainiac, whatever, I don’t care.”
“What is it, with the bees?” Mary couldn’t help but ask.
“I keep bees.”
“For fun?”
“Yes.” Allegra smiled.
“Don’t you get stung?”
“No, they’re in hives and I know how to handle them. I wear a veil and I have a smoker, which calms them down. The smoke blocks their pheromones that send out a distress signal, so you can work in the hive.” Allegra warmed to her topic. “It’s a very old hobby, beekeeping. It dates back to the Egyptians. And mine are very docile and nice, and they’re used to me, and they all get along and help each other. Did you know that each hive holds thirty thousand bees? That’s more friends than anybody in my class has, even counting their fake Facebook friends. I’m fine with it.”
Mary felt for her. No kid was fine with being different, and it wasn’t easy being green. “But I’m thinking that you can’t be so legalistic in your approach to this problem. There’s too much emotion involved.”
“There’s emotion because it matters. What should I spend my time on, stuff that doesn’t matter?”
Mary had to admit it was a good point. “But it won’t be easy for you, living at home, going forward with this investigation. Your parents will be upset, I’m sure. They had closure, but now they won’t. You want to prove that a man they believe killed their daughter really didn’t do it.”
“I know that, too, but I have to know the truth, no matter who likes it and who doesn’t.” Allegra’s forehead buckled again. “If I do what makes them happy, then I’m unhappy, and that’s not very grown-up, is it?”
Mary felt momentarily stumped. She wouldn’t hurt her parents for all the truth in the world. She hadn’t, in her life. She’d die with her secret.
“And anyway, I owe it to Fiona.” Allegra reached under her collar and showed them a delicate necklace, with a heart-shaped pendant. “This was hers, and I wear it all the time. She looked out for me in everything. She was my sister.”
Mary swallowed hard. “I understand.”
“I’m giving up everything to do this. I had to leave my hives at school. Luckily the headmaster keeps bees, too, so he knows what to do.”
“Why didn’t you bring them with you?”
“You can’t. Bees get to know their territory. They consider it their home. They’d be upset if I tried to move them.”
Mary didn’t know bees had emotions, but maybe they did. The way Allegra talked about her bees reminded her of the way Pigeon Tony talked about his homing pigeons.
Judy frowned. “To get back to the investigation, Allegra, I’m surprised the other firms would represent you, given that your parents will be unhappy if you get any traction.”
“Why?” Allegra flushed, and Mary realized that intelligence and sophistication were two separate things.
Judy answered, “You’re essentially opposing the Gardner interests. The big firms will want more business from the family, so they’ll choose them over you.”
Allegra shook her head. “No, I disagree. They’ll represent me if I choose them, I’m sure of it. I met with them. They said they’ll get back to me with a proposal.”
Mary and Judy looked over at Anne and Bennie, and they all knew what Allegra Gardner had yet to learn. Money talks, and justice doesn’t pay. If Allegra were taking on the Gardner family, she’d be radioactive to the big firms. Only the women at Rosato & Associates would take her on, because they were a bunch of mavericks who never would have gotten business from the Gardners anyway. And Allegra was an underdog, which was their weakness.
Bennie leaned over. “Regardless of what the others do, we’d be happy to represent you.”
“Cool beans.” Allegra grinned, in a newly relaxed way. “How does it work? Do you all work together, or can I choose which lawyer I want?”
“Of course you can choose. We work separately or together, depending on our availability. When would you want to get started?”
“Right away. Who’s available?”
“I’m not and neither is Anne.” Bennie gestured at Anne, who made a cartoony sad face, like an emoticon with perfect makeup. “We’re starting a trial, but Mary and Judy are free. They’re a great team.”
Allegra grinned. “I can tell. They’ve been writing each other notes this entire meeting.”
“What?” Bennie frowned.
Mary grimaced, busted. “Sorry, it’s a bad habit.”
Judy’s eyes flared. “I’m really sorry, too.”
Allegra shrugged happily. “It’s okay, and I can read upside down, too. I like that you think I’m cute, but please don’t try and breastfeed me.”
Mary laughed, feeling a rush of warmth for the young girl, who had the very mature ability to laugh at herself.
“We’d love to represent you,” Judy said, then added with a grin, “Bee our client.”
“Good one!” Allegra laughed.
“We could get started right away.” Mary leaned forward. She wanted the case and she needed the business. Her caseload was light because her client base was in South Philly, and Italians didn’t like to fight when it was hot. “I’m free right now. I could drop everything.”
“Just like that?” Allegra turned back to Bennie. “No proposals?”
“It’s a lawsuit, not a marriage. I can email you a fee-and-costs schedule. Our retainer is five thousand dollars. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. The trustee of my trust will send you a check. I’ll speak with him and give him your information.”
Mary blinked. “Can you get a distribution from a trust, when you’re only thirteen?”
“Yes, if the trustee says it’s okay, and mine did. He’s not even supposed to tell my father. The trust is from my grandfather, and one of his old banker friends is the trustee. He told me he has a duty of undivided loyalty to me.”
Bennie looked over at Mary. “Trustees have some discretion about when to make a distribution, unless the
re’s restrictions in the trust. If it’s set up that distributions are to be made for her care, support, and welfare, which is typical, then the trustee can exercise his discretion to make the distribution. It’s probably a generation-skipping trust or a dynasty trust.”
Mary figured her trust skipped her generation, too. She turned to Allegra. “You’re a really impressive young woman, and I’m happy to represent you.”
“Thanks!” Allegra beamed. “You guys are so different from the other law firms. This is the firm, right? Four women, no drones?”
Mary laughed. “I’m the drone.”
“No, you’re not. Drones are male. People think drones are worker bees, but they’re two different things. Worker bees do all the work, collecting pollen, nectar, and water, but a drone doesn’t work. He exists to mate with the queen and he dies after, with his genitals still in her.”
“Yuck.” Mary recoiled.
“Nice,” Judy said, then, “I mean, yuck.”
Allegra smiled. “The way I see it, if this law firm were a hive, Ms. Rosato would be the queen bee and everybody else would be a worker bee.”
“Bingo!” Mary burst into laughter, and so did Judy and Anne.
Bennie shot them a sly smile. “Not exactly, Allegra. Mary is my partner, so at the very least, we have two queen bees.”
“You can’t have two queens in the same hive. It’s not possible.” Allegra lifted an eyebrow. “A new queen starts to emerge, laying superscedure cells, getting ready to take over. Then the new queen will fight the old queen to the death. I’ve seen it happen.”
Suddenly there was a commotion at the threshold, and Mary looked over, vaguely horrified. Her mother chugged into the conference room, bearing the platter of pastries and cookies, with her father right behind her, and Mary jumped up to head them off. “Ma, Pop! Thanks, but we’re kind of busy.”
“Maria, you no bring the sflogiatelle, the cannol’. Here, have!”
“MARE, I TOLD HER YOU WERE IN A MEETING, BUT YOU KNOW HOW SHE GETS.”
“Psssh!” Her mother waved her off, set the pastries down, then did a double-take when she spotted Allegra. “Deo, che carina!”
“She says you’re cute,” Mary translated, uncomfortably. She loved her mother, but this wasn’t good for client development. “Ma, thanks, but you should go—”
Her father shouted, “IS THIS KID THE RICH ONE?”
Her mother was already engulfing Allegra in a big hug. “Che carina! Si carina!”
“Whoa, hi.” Allegra giggled as she righted her cap, which had come askew in the love attack.
“Ma, please don’t hug the clients!” Mary hurried over to extricate Allegra. “Sorry, this is my mother and father.”
Judy jumped up to help. “Mrs. D—”
“So skinny, so skinny!” Mary’s mother let go of Allegra only long enough to pick up the pastry dish. “Have sflogiatelle, cara. Amaretti cookie, imbutitti cookie, musticiolli cookie.”
“Have what?”
“Ma, please, no force-feeding.” Mary touched her mother’s shoulder. “Sorry, Allegra, really. Sflogiatelle is a pastry stuffed with ricotta and orange pieces, and the cookies have pine nuts, hazelnuts, or honey. My mother thinks the world needs more saturated fats.”
“Sweet!” Allegra beamed. “Which cookie has the honey?”
“Cara, prego!” Mary’s mother thrust a brown musticiolli cookie at Allegra, who popped it in her mouth.
“This tastes awesome! I make my own honey, but this is almost as good!”
Mary caught Bennie’s eye, and the queen bee didn’t look happy. “Uh, Ma, Dad, you should go, we’re trying to—”
“No, Mary, it’s okay.” Allegra grinned, and brown flecks of cookie filled her braces. “It’s better than my birthday cake.”
Mary’s mother’s hooded eyes flew open behind her thick glasses. “Is you birthday? Tanti auguri!”
Her father’s face lit up. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DOLL! WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”
“Allegra,” she answered, between bites, and Mary’s mother started singing her the birthday song, clapping her gnarled little hands.
“Tanti auguri a te, tanti auguri a te…”
Then her father joined in, “TANTI AUGURI, ALLEGRA, TANTI AUGURI A TE!” The Tonys came up from behind with Anthony, singing, clapping, and transforming the conference room into an Olive Garden.
“Bravissima, Allegra!” Mary’s mother gave Allegra another hug. “Tanti auguri!”
“Please, Mrs. DiNunzio—” Bennie blanched, but Allegra jumped to her sneakers with a big grin.
“Mary, can I hire your parents, too?”
Chapter Three
Mary, Judy, Anthony, The Tonys, and her father crowded around the tiny kitchen table, eating, drinking, chattering away, and sitting hip-to-replacement-hip in the cramped DiNunzio kitchen. Fresh basil and garlic scented the air, and steam rose from hot plates of homemade ravioli and peppery sausage. Everyone sweated into his food, but it would never occur to Mary’s parents to eat anything cooler, even in a Philadelphia summer, and Mary wouldn’t have it any other way. Whoever said you can’t go home again wasn’t Italian.
She tuned out the merry chatter and let her loving eyes travel around the kitchen. The cabinets and counter were clean, white, and simple, and on the walls hung an ancient church calendar with Jesus Christ, next to faded newspaper photos of John F. Kennedy and Pope John, the three Lifetime MVPs in the DiNunzio Hall-of-Fame. Nothing ever changed at her parents’, who were like the Amish, but with better food. They still drank perked coffee, from a dented coffeepot always brewing on the stove, while they read an actual newspaper, a quaint custom from the days of colonial America. The kitchen didn’t have a TV or radio, much less an automatic coffeemaker or a dishwasher; her mother was the coffeemaker, and her father was the dishwasher. There was no air conditioner, only an oscillating counter fan, which distributed the humidity evenly. Her parents didn’t own a computer, and they thought a laptop was something children sat upon.
Mary’s gaze went to the cast-iron switch plate, which had tucked behind it a frond of dried Easter palm and a collection of Mass cards. A Mass card was given when someone died, and she remembered when there were only a few, then ten, and now it looked like practically a full deck. More of their relatives and friends were passing, and her parents were in their eighties. Her father could see fine with his trifocals, but he was almost deaf and his back ached from a working life of setting tile. Her mother’s hearing was surprisingly good, but her eyes had only worsened, from macular degeneration and sewing piecework in the basement of this very rowhouse. Still she hovered happily over the kitchen table, topping off water, fetching second helpings, and ladling extra gravy onto pasta and sausage, like the CEO of the DiNunzio family—or maybe the queen bee.
“Ma, sit, and I’ll help,” Mary said, though she knew her mother would wave her off, which she did. Vita DiNunzio would never give up her wooden spoon to anyone, like a regent with a scepter, if you could stir gravy with a scepter.
“Maria, you eat, alla eat! Alla good?”
“VEET, THAT WAS GREAT!” her father boomed, rubbing his tummy in his white short-sleeve shirt. “I’M GONNA BUST A GUT!”
“Great, Mrs. D!” Judy twirled her spaghetti against her tablespoon like an expert, having been taught by Mary’s father. Judy was their honorary daughter, and Mary could remember the first time she brought Judy home and her mother had fallen in love with her, the same way she had with Allegra today.
“Good, grazie.” Mary’s mother came up from behind and touched Mary’s hair, a gesture that always made her feel warm and cozy, like an adored kitten. “We so proud, Maria, you work so hard alla year. You deserve alla good dings inna world.”
“Thanks, Ma.” Mary didn’t need affirmations if she had a mother.
“Here, here,” Judy said, raising a thick glass.
“I second that emotion.” Anthony smiled, and so did The Tonys, adding a chorus of salud and cent anni, and it struck Mary ho
w lucky she was in this cobbled-together collective of best friend, lover, family, and random senior citizens. She smiled up at her mother.
“So Ma, what did you think of our new client? Why did you like her so much?”
“So young, so serious like you.” Her mother shrugged happily and pushed her heavy glasses up onto her nose.
“SHE’S TOO SERIOUS,” her father added. “SHE PROLLY READS TOO MUCH.”
“Prolly.” Mary smiled. Her parents never pushed her to work hard in school, but she went to Goretti, where she got straight A’s and became Most Likely to Achieve Sainthood. They wanted her to go and play outside, but she buried herself in Nancy Drew books, which worried them no end. They believed that reading ruined your eyes and they could have been right. She was nearsighted by the time she graduated from Penn and Penn Law. Mary said to her father, “Dad, guess what, she keeps bees.”
“FOR REAL? WHY?”
Mary smiled. “She likes it. She’s really smart, a genius.”
“She good at numbers?” Tony-From-Down-The-Block interrupted, fork in mid-air. He was single again, having broken up with his girlfriend Marlene, which meant he was dyeing his remaining hair a shade of orange that looked better on orangutans.
Tony Two Feet looked over, his hooded eyes blinking behind his Mr. Potatohead glasses. “Yeah, Mare, can she count cards, like the movie?”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block elbowed him, frowning. “Feet, that’s not why I was axin’.”
“The hell it ain’t.” Feet turned to Mary, squinting in thought. “What’s’a name a that movie, Mare? With the ’49 Buick? Boy oh boy, I was, like, twenny years old when they came out with those babies. I wanted one so bad. Came in green, like a new C-note.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block snorted. “When’s the last time you saw a new C-note?”
Feet kept his head turned away and ignored the question, which may have been rhetorical. “You know that movie, Mare. What’s the name again? With the guys?”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block chuckled. “The movie with the guys. How’s she supposed ta know?”