“What’s going on here?” Mary asked, but no one even noticed they were inside. The dining room was full, too, even though it was usually reserved for Christmas, Easter, or another occasion when something really good had happened to Jesus Christ.
“Ma?” Anthony asked, and from the middle of the crowd, Elvira Rotunno turned around, brightening behind her glasses. She had on a pretty blue dress, worn without an apron, and held a green bottle of Rolling Rock beer.
“Ant! What’re you doin’ here?”
“Maria!” Mary’s mother emerged with open arms. “Maria, I was so worry.”
“Honey!” Mary’s father materialized at her mother’s side, dressed in his Sunday best. “I’m so happy to see you.”
Both parents threw their arms around her, and when they broke up their clinch, everyone had turned to watch, their smiles a sea of dentures. Mary spotted the Elmo-red comb-over of Tony-From-Down-The-Block, the Mr. Potatohead glasses of Tony Two Feet Pensiera, and the tiny, tanned head of Pigeon Tony. But she was surprised to see Bernice Foglia, hoisting a bottle of beer. In the background, Frank Sinatra launched into “Just in Time.”
“How do you like our mixer?” Her father beamed, gesturing at the crowd with his heavy hand. “It’s the Sinatra Society and the Dean Martin Club. We did it together.”
“You’re kidding.” Mary laughed, delighted. “How did that happen?”
“I knew you were busy with Trish Gambone and all, so I figured I’d pick up the phone and call Mrs. Foglia myself.” Her father grinned, and behind him, Mrs. Foglia came forward with Tony-From-Down-The-Block. You didn’t have to be an amateur sleuth to see the new warmth between them.
“It’s like this,” Mrs. Foglia said, wagging a finger. “Tony said he was sorry to me and Frank, and that’s good enough for me.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block nodded. “Then she apologized for what she said about Dean. Now everything is copasetic.”
Mrs. Foglia looked over sharply. “You apologized first. Then I apologized.”
Mary interrupted before the truce collapsed. “I think that’s terrific. No more litigation, no more fighting. Peace is better than war, and love came just in time.”
“I did good, huh, Mare?” her father asked, grinning, and in response she gave him another big hug.
“I love you, Pop.” Mary hugged him one more time, then her mother, and just when she thought the hugfest was over, Anthony threw his arms around her and gave her a big kiss.
“You’re amazing,” he said, looking down at her, his dark eyes warm, and suddenly from the crowd, came a gasp. Elvira Rotunno stood aghast, her forehead creased with bewilderment and her eyes focused on her son.
“Ant’n’y, honey? What are you doing, kissing Mary like that?”
For a minute, Mary didn’t understand, then she remembered.
Anthony smiled. “Ma, I have something to tell you.”
The room fell silent except for Frank Sinatra, and everybody held his breath.
“Ma, I’m not gay. I never was gay and I’m never going to be gay.”
“Ant, it’s okay. I know you’re gay and I love you anyway.” Elvira gestured at the crowd. “We all know. I told everybody, it’s like Rock Hudson. We’re all fine with it, aren’t we?”
The room murmured in approval, though Mary spotted two members of the Dean Martin Fan Club exchanging looks in the back of the crowd. Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime, but only if the somebodies were a boy and a girl.
“Mom, no.” Anthony laughed. “I’m really not gay. I just like books and wine and opera.”
“That’s not true, son. You don’t have to lie. I like it that you’re gay. It makes me feel special.”
“Listen, I’m straight. I can’t help it. I was born this way.”
“It’s possible, Elvira.” Mary’s father looked over with a half smile, but her lined mouth was set with skepticism.
“No, it’s not. What about Celine Dion? That’s proof!”
Mary saw a chance to broker a settlement. “Elvira, he was gay, but I converted him, and if I keep at it, he’ll stay on the straight and narrow.”
“Right, Ma. All it took was the love of a good woman.” Anthony threw his arm around Mary and gave her a squeeze. “This woman.”
Mary’s parents beamed, and Elvira looked from Anthony to Mary and back again, then broke into a smile.
“That, I can understand,” she said, finally.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
A pale yellow sun climbed a cloudless sky, and Rittenhouse Square was just beginning to flower, the coldest of March gone for good. The hedges lining the park popped bright green leaves, and the grass, recently seeded, sprouted behind cordons of cotton string. People strode through the park, bearing briefcases and gym bags, full of purpose and caffeine, on their way to work. Mary sat next to Judy on a wooden bench, dressed in a khaki suit, white shirt, brown pumps, and her starter trenchcoat. She was betting it would help get her job back, if she dressed like a mini Bennie Rosato.
“She’ll take you back, I know it,” Judy was saying. “All you have to do is go into her office, sit in a chair, and tell her that you’re sorry.”
“What am I sorry for, again?” Mary kept forgetting.
“You’re sorry for walking out that day.”
“I’m not sorry for that. I’m sorry I lost my job. Does that count?”
“No. You need to say you’re sorry if you want your job back.” Judy looked concerned, which was a neat trick in a jeans jacket and a cherry red minidress, worn with black-and-white-striped leggings and yellow Dr. Martens boots.
“She might not take me back. At the Roundhouse, she barely spoke to me.”
“Don’t worry about it. She’ll come around. She was really upset last week, after she’d come back from court. She won her trial and she still wasn’t happy.” Judy flared her eyes. “Unprecedented.”
“Really.”
“Weird.” Judy nodded.
“She left me no choice but to go,” Mary said, thinking back. “The truth is, I wouldn’t do it any differently.”
“You’re not going to say that.” Judy brushed a spray of bangs out of her eyes. “It sucks working there without you. Anne feels the same way. We want you back.”
“I want to go back. It’s where I belong.”
“Good. Then do it for me. Say the magic words, and Bennie will accept your apology. Even if she’s still mad at you, it makes business sense to take you back.”
“I’ve lost some clients.”
“You’ll get them back and plenty more. In fact, I forgot to tell you, Nunez called this morning and he’s rehiring you.”
“That’s great.” Mary felt her heart lift.
“It’s just the beginning. Of course Bennie will take you back. She just needs to save face, which is why you have to apologize.” Judy pointed her finger. “Say it first. ‘I’m Mary and I’m sorry.’”
“I’m Sorry Mary.”
“Stop joking around.”
“I’ll crawl in on my knees.”
“That works, too.”
“I hear you.” Mary was thinking about Mrs. Foglia and Tony-From-Down-The-Block. “You know, Bennie should apologize to me.”
“Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m just saying. I didn’t do anything wrong and in the end, I caught the bad guy. Even if it wasn’t my job and she was somebody’s mother.” Suddenly Mary wasn’t feeling so strong. She was destroying her own self-confidence. She needed to shut up. “At least I have a boyfriend.”
“True, and he sounds great.”
“He is.” Mary had told Judy every delicious detail. Twice. Of course, she’d never admit as much to Anthony. Not all conspiracies of silence were wrong.
“But now you need a job.”
“Can you believe this? For a long time, I had a job and no boyfriend. Now I have a boyfriend and no job. How do you get both at once?”
“Stand up. We’re going.” Judy rose to her full six feet and checked her ridicu
lous Swatch watch with the tumbling baby heads. “You meet with her in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, I’m ready.” Mary rose with a self-assurance she didn’t feel, and Judy raised a hand to slap her five.
“Come on, give it up.”
“No. You always do it too hard.”
“Now. For luck.”
Mary obeyed, and Judy slapped her palm too hard, as she knew she would. “Jude, ouch!”
“Sorry.” Judy threw an arm around her and they joined the flow of the people with jobs, walking to the office down the main diagonal of the park. “It’s nothing compared to what Bennie’s going to do to you.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m kidding. You’ll be fine.”
“You’ll come in if I scream?”
“Goes without saying,” Judy said anyway.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Mary lingered at the open door to Bennie’s office while the boss skimmed the newspaper, standing up behind her desk the way she always did, her hands braced on either side of the front page. Even upside down, Mary recognized her own photo below the newspaper fold, and it reminded her of what she’d been through in the past week. For some reason, she felt suddenly impatient.
“Bennie, you ready to see me?” Mary asked, and her voice sounded authoritative, even to her, who knew better.
“DiNunzio.” Bennie looked up pleasantly and motioned her in. She had on a navy suit and white oxford shirt, with her curly hair pulled back into a simple, albeit tangled, low ponytail. “Take a seat.”
“By the way, congratulations on your trial. I forgot to tell you the other night.”
“Thanks,” Bennie said with a smile. She sat down in her desk chair while Mary took a seat opposite her desk, thinking about what Judy had told her.
She just needs to save face, which is why you have to apologize. It has to be the first thing you say.
“I’m pleased with the newspaper coverage, aren’t you?” Bennie asked. “The media attention bodes very well for Trish’s mother. The pressure will build up, especially if the Mob murders stop. So far, so good.”
Apologize. “I thought the same thing.”
“Against my nature to have her confess, but it really did serve the client and the greater good.”
“It did. Thanks for coming to the rescue.” Mary smiled, softening. As angry as Bennie must have been, she dropped everything, no questions asked. “I was so blindsided by her confession. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“You’re welcome.” Bennie waved it off. “How was Trish later? She was so upset.”
“She’ll be fine, I think. Her friends will help.” Now. Say it. “I’m sorry about the other day, when I left the office.”
Bennie looked at her for a minute, puckering her mouth slightly, and Mary sensed she was waiting for a second helping of crow.
“I would like to have my job back, if that’s possible.”
“First things first.” Bennie rested her elbows on her armrests. “I appreciate your apology. I suppose I owe you an apology, too.”
“You do?” I mean, you do.
“Now that I’m involved with the case, I see what you were dealing with and I can understand why you went to such lengths to find Trish. I’m sorry I gave you an ultimatum.”
Wow! “Thanks,” Mary said, shocked.
“You know, I was remembering when you came in, that morning not long ago, asking me to hire you help.”
“I remember.”
“You said you were bringing in a significant amount of new business, and that would justify hiring an extra person.”
“Yes.”
“You were right, in a way. The fees you brought in for the past year have been very significant to the firm. The past two years, in fact.”
So Judy had been right.
“It’s not that my cases don’t bring in money, but they are a slow pay. They’re bigger, as you know, and so many of my fees are recoverable only by application to the court, under the civil-rights statutes and such. It creates a chronic cash-flow problem.”
It was just what Judy had said.
“Big picture, the firm has enormous resources. We have several million dollars from the class-action representations, and for a long time now, I’ve been planning to move our offices.”
“You mentioned that.”
“Yes, but what I didn’t tell you is that my long-term plan is to buy my own building, not keep leasing.” Bennie’s blue-eyed gaze didn’t waver, and her tone of voice changed, newly serious. “It requires a lot more capital, organization, and coordination than merely reupping.”
“I bet.” Mary had had no idea, and Bennie grinned for the first time, excited.
“It’s a good time, and I feel ready for the move, but that’s why I didn’t want to hire anybody right now. I’m in negotiations to buy a building uptown and I expect the deal will be final by the end of next month.”
“That sounds great.” But will I be working there?
“You should also know that the other relevant part of my business plan was that after the move, I planned to offer you a partnership in the firm. I thought you had matured in the past few years, and your numbers justified it.”
Gulp. Mary couldn’t believe her ears.
“Bottom line, I’d like very much for you to come back to work. I think you deserve your job back, and you’re a terrific lawyer and associate.”
“Thank you,” Mary said, but the sudden darkness in Bennie’s facial expression made her hold her breath.
“That said, it’s only fair to tell you that I don’t see making you a partner anytime soon, not after what you did. I’m no longer sure that you’d make a terrific partner.” Bennie’s blue eyes hardened, like ice. “You walked out on me when I needed you, and I can’t have that in a partner, my sole partner. I hope you understand.”
Surprisingly, Mary did. But it didn’t mean she liked it. She shifted in her chair. A sunbeam from the window caught the prism of a cut-crystal award and sent shards of light shooting around the office.
“I run a very successful law firm, DiNunzio. That takes planning, professionalism, and mental toughness. To a certain extent, you’re still ruled by your emotions. You haven’t fully matured as a lawyer or a businesswoman. You’re too impulsive.”
Mary felt an ember of resentment flare in her chest.
“You identify with your clients, and that’s the reason they love you. South Philadelphia’s throwing itself at your feet because of your loyalty. But that strength can also be a weakness, in a partner. I need your first loyalty to be to our firm as an entity, and to me.” Bennie’s features relaxed a little. “You can’t throw a temper tantrum, even for the sake of a client like Trish. For you to ever make partner, for you to be my partner, you would have to show me you understand that.”
For a second or two, neither woman said anything. Bennie’s mouth remained taut, and Mary sensed she was her mirror image, just in a tinier suit.
It was Bennie who spoke first. “I’m sorry if this hurts your feelings.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Mary said, though it did. She’d always liked being an employee, but she didn’t like being told she couldn’t be a partner. She thought that even though a firm was composed of many clients, it made sense that some matters would be more urgent than others.
“So, DiNunzio.” Bennie clapped her hands together. “You ready to get back to work?”
“No,” Mary heard herself answer. She felt like walking out on her job, right now, but that would be impulsive, proving the wrong point. And she needed the job, to finally get her house.
“Pardon me?” Bennie blinked.
“I don’t want to come back on the terms that I may never make partner.”
Bennie blinked. “Okay,” she said slowly.
“I’d like to come back, do my job, and talk about partnership in six months.”
“Really.”
“I think I deserve it, and the business I bring in justifi
es it.” Mary was making it up as she went along, but she was convincing herself. “We have our different spheres of influence, but that’s good. The fact that you don’t agree with the way I handled one situation doesn’t mean I’m not mature.”
Bennie said nothing, but eyed her with annoyance, or new respect, Mary couldn’t tell which.
“What do you say?” she asked.
“No,” Bennie answered flatly.
“No?”
“Six months isn’t enough. One year.”
“Let’s split the difference,” Mary said, relieved. She’d thought she was getting fired again. “Nine months, then.”
Bennie nodded, mulling it over. “And what if, after nine months, I say you don’t make the grade? Do you leave or stay?”
“We’ll see, then. I can’t decide now, on impulse.”
“You don’t make impulsive decisions.”
“Never.” Mary smiled, and so did Bennie.
“Fair enough. Done.”
Yay! “Good.” Mary rose and extended her hand across the desk, and Bennie stood up, took it, and squeezed it hard.
“Now get back to work, DiNunzio.”
“You’re not the boss of me.” Mary turned to go, with a smile.
“For nine months I am.”
“There’s gonna be some changes made—Rosato.”
“Out of my office,” Bennie said, chuckling.
And Mary ran.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wanted to thank you readers for picking up this book, and especially those of you who remember the women of the Rosato firm from my earlier books. They’ve been gone for five years now, and I know some of you have wanted them to return, so permit me to explain why they took such a long vacation. As you may recall, Killer Smile was my last Mary DiNunzio novel, and it was written before my father, Frank Scottoline, passed away from cancer. When I started to write about the DiNunzio family again, I began to realize how much Mr. DiNunzio was like my father. It was simply too hard to write about the DiNunzios, and oddly, it wasn’t until I wrote a novel entitled Daddy’s Girl that I got my mojo back. So, bottom line, the Rosato girls will return from time to time, because I’ve missed them. Thank you for your loyalty as I stretched myself to create other characters. I’m a fan of making new friends, but I’ll always keep the old.