“You want to join the Food Party?” He clasped his hands together. “Praise the Lord. We need all the support we can get.”
“No. I want to talk to you about politics.”
“Good.” He slung his arm over my shoulder. “Because I need a campaign manager and I wanted to ask if you had time to help your old uncle out.” He led the way out of the back door and into the garden behind the house.
As Uncle Laz looked over his vegetable garden, I tried to come up with the right words to start the conversation. I finally just spit it out.
“Laz, your political career has come to an end. Finuto. Caput.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because, Uncle Lazarro, someone has to say it: you were not born in the United States. You’re an immigrant. Immigrants can’t run for president. It’s not allowed.”
“Well, yes, but. . .” He shook his head and then reached down to clear some weeds. “Semantics.”
“Nope. And don’t pull that line about how you had dual citizenship or your mother was a citizen of the United States. I know better.”
Laz sighed. “Look, the whole thing was just a joke. You know? I wasn’t really planning to run for president. I was just trying to stir up the people.”
“You got them stirred up all right.” I took a seat on the bench and watched as he reached down to check on the oregano plants. “I know quite a few who aren’t even speaking to each other now.”
“Aw, c’mon. You’re not really blaming that on me, are you?” He continued to move, plant by plant, until he came to the parsley.
“No, but this craziness didn’t help. You got Earline riled up and then a chain reaction occurred.”
“I just thought it’d be fun.” He looked up from the herb garden and gave me a pensive look. “I know you have your favorite candidate, Bella. D.J. told me. And we all know that Earline has her favorite. No question there.” At this point he grew silent. For a moment, anyway. “But the truth is, I never had a favorite. I couldn’t latch on to any of them. So I figured I’d make things more fun by running, myself.”
“Only, not for real.”
“Well, of course not. I never thought anyone would take me seriously.”
“Clearly the reporter at the Daily News found some merit in the story. Remember that piece they did on you last month? They treated you like you were some kind of superstar.”
“Hey, a business owner’s gotta do what a business owner’s gotta do. Did you notice my signs were printed on the backs of Parma Johns signs? What do you really think I was trying to sell here?” Laz stretched his back and looked across the expanse of the back yard.
“Wait. Are you telling me this whole thing was a ploy to get people to buy more pizza?” I clucked my tongue at him. “Very low, Lazarro.”
“Not low at all.” For the first time since the conversation began I noticed the seriousness in his expression. “All good businessmen—and women—do it.”
“They all run for president?”
“No, they all think outside of the box. In my case, the pizza box.”
“Outside of the box? I think the right word would be crafty.”
He rolled his eyes. “Please.”
“Laz, everyone knows that Parma Johns is already loaded with customers. We don’t need to advertise. You have a television show patterned after you, for Pete’s sake. People across the country come to Parma Johns so that they can meet the crazy characters they see in the show.”
“I’m not as crazy in real life as those situations they put the characters in.” He gave me a knowing look.
“You might be a little crazier.” I put my hands on my hips. “But the point is, Parma Johns doesn’t need to advertise anymore. And the wedding facility is booked, too. And your cooking show is one of the most popular on The Food Network. So, why draw more attention to the businesses when you could be resting and relaxing. Aren’t these your golden years?”
“Golden-schmolden.” He rolled his eyes. “Look, I know you people want me to retire. To relax. To take better care of myself.” He knelt down and plucked a weed from one of the plants. “But I’m not ready for all of that. I still have a lot of life to live and I plan to do it to the fullest. And just for the record, you can take the businessman out of the business, but you can’t take the business out of the businessman.”
“I understand, Laz. But deliberately riling people up isn’t the way to live life to the fullest. I’m just saying. One of these days one of your little jokes could backfire, and then what?”
He seemed to be thinking through what I’d said. . .for a moment, anyway. Then, just about the time things started getting serious, the director popped his head around the corner.
“Lunch break is over, Mr. Rossi. We’re about to start taping again. You done out here?”
“Are we done out here?” Laz turned my way.
“We’re done.”
As I watched him saunter back toward the house I couldn’t help but wonder if my words had made any difference. Uncle Laz was. . .Uncle Laz. He probably wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. His wackiness was endearing, no doubt about it. Crazy, but endearing.
Soon the election would be behind us. I had a feeling a lot of people would celebrate that fact. And once the dust settled, life would go back to normal. Well, as normal as it’d ever been for the Rossi family, anyway. Until that day came—and who was I kidding?—I’d just do my best to keep the lid on the pot so the proverbial soup wouldn’t simmer over.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tu te payes ma poire
Translation: Are you buying yourself my pear?
(Are you pulling my leg?)
As the first week of April morphed into the second, I found myself wrapped up in plans for Lily and Cecil’s big day. I kept a close eye on the extended weather report, doing my best not to get too anxious. So far, so good. Looked like we were in for peaceful skies on the afternoon of the 30th.
Just to be sure, I gave Justine—my favorite weather girl from Channel Eleven—a call. She answered her cell phone on the third ring, her voice as joyous over the phone as it was on the nightly news.
“Bella! I can’t believe it’s you! Seems like just yesterday we were planning my big day, and now I’m an old married lady.”
“Hardly.” I laughed. “You’ve been married, what? Four months? Five?”
“Well, I feel like it’s been longer. What can I do for you, Bella?”
“I need the inside scoop on the weather in Splendora on Saturday, the 30th of April at 2:00 p.m.”
“Well, nothing like being specific.” She laughed. “Are you forgetting that I completely botched the weather report on my own big day? Are you sure you don’t want to call Frank from Channel Two?”
“Very funny. I’ll take whatever you have to give me.”
“Okay, hang on a second and let me check.” She disappeared for a few seconds and then returned. “Okay, Saturday the 30th of April.” More silence. “Hmm.”
“What? Should we be worried?”
“Oh, no, sorry. Just noticed that the Rockies are going to have snow that weekend. Never ceases to amaze me that it can be snowing in one part of the country and summery in the next. Don’t you find that strange?”
“Yes, but about Splendora. . .”
“And would you believe the northeast is going to have more rains that weekend? They’ve been deluged already. I often wonder how much rain a place can take before the dams start to break. As you might recall, last spring the northeast had some of the worst flooding in years, and all because of April showers.”
“Yes, but Splendora. . .”
“Is in the clear. I’m looking at all of my models and not one shows a drop of rain that weekend. Feel better?”
“I do. And it jives with what I found online.”
“So I wasn’t your first stop.” She sighed. “I knew it.”
“I just hated to bother you. I know how busy you are.”
Just as she started to re
spond, our call was interrupted.
“Sorry, Bella. That’s my manager. I’ve gotta run.”
And with a click, she was gone.
Seconds later I realized I’d missed a text from Jenna. Her words Meet me at Parma Johns? took me by surprise. What was she doing on the Island?
Despite my crazy workload, I dropped everything and headed to my family’s restaurant. As I pulled my car up to the pizza parlor, I noticed some activity across the street at Super Gyros, the Greek restaurant owned by the Pappas family. Half a dozen police cars lined the street.
“What’s happening?” I called out to Mrs. Pappas after I got out of my car. “Is someone hurt?” I took several quick steps in her direction until I arrived on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Even from here I could smell the yummy scent of lamb from inside.
“Not yet,” she responded. “But I’d like to give my husband a swift kick in the backside. Why he felt the need to offer free gyros to all of the police officers on Galveston Island is beyond me.”
“Laz does the same thing. At least the police will never go hungry.”
“Right? Problem is, they’ll be so full they won’t be able to chase the bad guys.” She shook her head. “Speaking of chaos, how are things going with Lily’s wedding? Cassia says they’re doing a French theme.”
“Right. Paris.”
Mrs. Pappas reached for a dishtowel and tucked it into her waistband. “Between us, it doesn’t make a lick of sense. The family is Greek, like us. Why would they do a French wedding?”
I shrugged. “Oh, I never thought about that, to be honest. Lily just happens to love Paris.”
“Well, my husband is beside himself. You know how he is, Bella. Says he’s boycotting the wedding.”
“He can’t do that. Lily is his. . .” I paused to make sure I got the family relation right. “She’s his daughter’s sister-in-law. That practically makes him Lily’s uncle.”
“He says no relative of his will have a French wedding on his watch. Then he went off on a tangent about how the French tried to stamp out the Greeks during the Crusades, but I’m pretty sure he’s got his history wrong.”
“C’mon. I know Mr. Pappas. He’s just kidding around.”
She shook her head. “Hardly. But never you mind all of that. I’ll get him there, if I have to drag him kicking and screaming.”
I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Guess I’d just have to see on the big day. In the meantime, I needed to get to Parma Johns to spend some time with Jenna.
I walked across the street and entered our family’s restaurant. The familiar strains of Pennies from Heaven played through the speakers and the aroma of pepperoni and sausage tantalized me, along with caramelized onions and green peppers. Yum.
“Bella, what brings you here?” My brother Nick called out from across the room. “Lunch break?”
“Yeah. Jenna told me to meet her here.”
“Oh, right. I saw her a few minutes ago.” He looked around. “Maybe she went next door to the bakery.”
“Thanks.” I walked through the opening leading to Let Them Eat Cake, my sister-in-law’s bakery, and found my BFF deeply engrossed in a conversation with Scarlet. They shushed the minute they saw me.
“Hey, you two.”
“Hey, Bella.” Jenna had that a suspicious look on her face, one I couldn’t quite figure out.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing. Just talking to Scarlet. I was ordering a cake for next month.”
“Someone’s birthday?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “Just missing Scarlet’s cakes.”
“So why not take one home today?” I asked.
“Ah.” This seemed to stop her in her tracks. “Good idea.” She turned her attention to Scarlet. “I’ll take one chocolate. . .to go. Bubba Jr. and Weston will love me for this.”
“Speaking of the boys, I’m surprised they’re not with you.”
“Oh, they’re in pre-school back in Splendora. Earline agreed to pick them up today so that I could have a day off. I really need it.”
“Things at the BBQ place too much to handle?”
“Well, business is booming, but I’m wiped out all the time.”
As my very pregnant sister-in-law busied herself getting Jenna’s cake ready to go I glanced at my watch and gasped when I realized I only had an hour before I had to pick up the older kids from school.
Jenna turned my way with a smile. “It’s so good to be back on the island. I’ve missed it so much.”
“The chaos of Splendora too much for you?”
“Nah. Just miss my old stomping ground, that’s all. And I’ve missed you.” She put her hand on my arm and gave me a smile so warm it completely melted my heart. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Me too.” She took the boxed cake from Scarlet, paid her, and then we headed back through the opening to Parma Johns, which teemed with even more customers than before.
As the overpowering scent of garlic wrapped itself around us, my stomach growled. Jenna, on the other hand, looked a little green around the gills.
“You okay?” I asked.
She seemed to startle at my question? “Hmm? Oh, sure. Maybe I’ve waited too long to eat. It sounded good to me, too. . .until I smelled it. Then I started feeling a little nauseous.”
“Really? Pizza never made you sick before. You sure you’re not lactose intolerant like Pop?”
“Never have been before. Anyway, I’ll eat some pasta while you have your pizza. I just wanted to talk to you about the mess going on in Splendora.”
“Trust me, I’ve heard all about it from Lily.”
Jenna groaned. “I have a great idea. Instead of talking about the goings-on back home, let’s just have some girl-talk, okay?” She looped her arm through mine. “I really miss that, Bella. A lot.”
Okay, then. We’d have girl-talk. Still, I couldn’t help but notice she’d called Splendora home. My BFF was now firmly rooted in the country, far, far from Galveston Island. For some reason, that knowledge caused a wave of sadness to wash over me.
Not that I had time to be sad for long. Within minutes we’d ordered our food and taken our seats at the counter. From that point on, our conversation shifted to weddings, family stories and Galveston goings-on. Jenna seemed to eat it up.
In fact, she seemed to eat up. . .everything. The girl ate all of her pasta and half of my meatball pizza.
Very, very suspicious.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Qu'est-ce que je ferais sans toi?
Translation: What would I do without you?
The next couple of weeks whirled by, the clock moving so fast I could hardly keep up. The morning before Lily and Cec’s wedding I awoke at seven a.m. to bright, sunny skies. So, Justine was right this time. The weather would play nicely. No last-minute surprises. Good going.
About ten minutes later I received a call from Cecil in Splendora. “Um, Bella?”
“Cecil. Getting excited?”
“Yes. But, Houston, we have a problem.”
“Technically I’m in Galveston, not Houston.” A yawn escaped and I tried to stifle it. “But that’s beside the point. What’s going on, Cec?”
“It’s raining.”
“What?” I sat up straight in the bed. “Are you serious?”
“I am. It’s not a hard rain, but it’s a rain. We’re working on the backdrop this morning, getting it in place, but if I put it out in the rain it’ll be warped before the reception tomorrow afternoon. You know?”
“Is it too late for me to get my tent guys out there to cover the garden area?”
“Well, let’s hold off another hour or so. Praying this will lift. According to the weather report—”
“Don’t talk to me about weather reports,” I interrupted. “It’s pointless.”
“Well, according to the weather reports this will lift in another hour or so. Hopefully we’ll have clear skies this afternoon. And if we’
re fortunate, the sun will dry the grounds quickly.”
I prayed he was right. By ten o’clock I’d gathered my whole family together at the Rossi home so that we could caravan north to Splendora. I needed their help putting the chapel in order for tomorrow’s Parisian ceremony.
I couldn’t help but notice the Laz for Prez signs had been removed from the front yard of my parents’ place. I’d have to remember to thank Uncle Lazarro later. Now, if he could just keep from getting Earline riled up once we arrived in Splendora, perhaps we’d have a lovely, carefree—albeit rainy—day.
Not that we got off to a great start. Mom and Pop argued about which car they should take. Rosa and Laz squabbled over Guido, the family parrot. For some reason, Rosa felt compelled to take our fine-feathered family member along for the ride. My brother and his wife couldn’t seem to get their kids under control. And my sister and her husband—the only ones wearing designer clothes and looking like they just stepped out of a magazine—climbed into his sports car, impatient to get going.
When we finally got everyone loaded into the cars, we hit the road. D.J. drove our van and I sat in the passenger seat, eyes firmly riveted on my iPad.
“Whatcha readin’ over there?”
“Hmm?” I looked up from the tablet. “Oh, last minute details for the wedding.”
“Still working? Look around you, Bella. Bluebonnets are still in bloom.” He pointed off to the side of the highway. Sure enough, the gorgeous state flower bloomed in abundance along the roadway surrounded by Indian Paintbrushes and other gorgeous wildflowers.
“It’s gorgeous.” How I wished I could spend more time just watching, but with so much work yet to be done, how could I? My gaze shifted again to the iPad.
After a few minutes, D.J. turned up the radio and before long the kids were singing at the top of their lungs. I listened in, unable to focus on my tablet. Moments later I heard that still small voice from above whispering, “Close the tablet, Bella. Spend time with your family.”
So I did. I shut down the tablet and started singing with abandon. I’d never claimed to have a good singing voice, but it seemed to get the twins tickled. And D.J.