The Homecoming Hero Returns. Joan Elliott Pickart
sang a country and western song.
“So gross,” Molly said, rolling her eyes. “No one listens to C and W, Dad.”
“I do,” he said cheerfully.
“Well, no one young does,” Molly said.
David hooted with laughter. “There you go. At thirty-two, my sweet, I have one foot in the grave. Humor the old man and let me enjoy my choice of music before I check out.” He paused. “Hey, I want to stop at the store for a second and make sure all is well.”
“Great,” Michael said. “Can I get some gum?”
“Sure, if you pay for it,” David said, glancing down at his son.
“That is such a lame rule,” Michael said. “We own a store and I can’t even have a free pack of gum or a candy bar or a…”
“Zip it,” David said. “We’ve been over this tale of woe more times than I care to count. You want it, you buy it, end of story.”
“Lame,” Michael said.
“Dad,” Molly said, “my friend Angela got pink braces on her teeth. Those little metal things they stick on there are pink. Really. Can I have pink braces since I’m being forced to go through this torture?”
“We’ll see.”
“Mmm. I hate we’ll see because it always seems to end up being no.”
“Well, sugar lump, it all depends on whether the pink ones cost more than the regular ones,” David said. “We’ll investigate the situation. I promise. Okay?”
“I guess.” Molly sighed. “I wish we were rich.”
“Money can’t buy happiness,” David said.
“Are you happy even though we’re not rich?” Molly said.
“Yep.”
“How come?”
“Easy question,” David said, as they approached the area behind the store. “I’m married to your mother and we have two rather weird but fantastic kids.”
“We’re not weird,” Michael said, laughing.
“Can we vote on that?” David said.
The trio was smiling as they entered the store through the back entrance. David swept his gaze over the interior and nodded in approval while inhaling the tantalizing aromas of fresh bread and spices that wafted through the air. Hanging plants and a cobblestone floor created the atmosphere of an inviting outdoor market. Attractive arrangements of the multitude of offerings beckoned.
Sandra did all this, David thought, for the umpteenth time. She’d turned an ordinary convenience store into a charming and unique establishment. She was really something, his lovely Sandra.
“Hey, Henry,” David called out. “How’s it going?”
“Busy,” the young man behind the counter said. “Big run on bread, cheese and wine all morning.”
“People know your mom bakes the best bread in the North End,” David said, coming to the front of the counter.
“Yep,” Henry said. “So, Molly and Michael, what kind of trouble are you up to today?”
“We’re going swimming,” Michael said. “We don’t have air-conditioning at home and it’s hot. You’re lucky it’s your turn to work in here where it’s cool.”
Henry laughed. “I know. Now if the customers would quit coming in and disturbing me I could get my studying done. I’m never going to be a famous lawyer if I don’t pass these courses I’m taking.”
David smiled and wandered around the store as the twins chatted with Henry.
He was so lucky to have connected with the Capelli family, he mused. They were a big Italian bunch who took turns working at the store as their busy schedules allowed. Maria Capelli, the mother of the clan, provided fresh baked bread and Italian pastries, which flew off the shelves. There were some customers who only came when a Capelli was on duty because they could converse in Italian instead of faltering English.
Maria Capelli had named each of her seven children after a famous American, to the amusement of her laid-back husband, Carlo. Henry was actually Henry Ford Capelli, a fact that made the handsome young man roll his eyes in mock dismay.
David stopped at the far wall of the store where fresh produce was attractively displayed. He envisioned that wall torn down and the emporium stretching across the empty, attached building next door.
Man, he thought, talk about going into debt. But if they didn’t run the risk and go for it, they’d never make more than they were now and… But could they even get a bank to loan them what it would take to… The monthly payments on that loan would be out of sight. Scary, very scary. But Sandra kept bringing up the subject of air-conditioning, making it clear she was tired of the hot apartment and…
Hell, he thought, hooking a hand over the back of his neck. He’d been chasing these kinds of thoughts around in his mind for weeks, driving himself crazy. It was definitely time to sit down with their accountant and start crunching some numbers as accountant types liked to say. Well, not today. He was going to enjoy his kids and cool off in the city pool, which would be packed with people but what the heck.
“We’re outta here,” David called. “Invent a new car when you finish studying, Henry Ford. We’re gone.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Henry said, flapping a hand in the air. “Go away and stop bothering me with the car jokes. My brother Roy says you always get in a zinger about when he’s going to get a horse, too.”
David laughed. “Well, what do you expect when a guy is named Roy Rogers Capelli? Come on, M and M, let’s go hit the waves.”
When Sandra finished putting away the clean wash she made a big fruit salad, minus blueberries, for dinner and set a package of ground meat on the counter to defrost.
If David barbecued outside, she decided, she wouldn’t have to turn the oven back on later and heat up the already stifling house even more. Good plan. She still needed to go to the grocery store for things that Westport’s Emporium didn’t carry, then maybe there would be time to finish her article on the award-winning roses blooming in Mrs. Barelli’s garden.
As she added things to her shopping list she heard the distant, familiar sound of the chugging mail truck and headed down to the lobby to collect the day’s offering. She retrieved the mail from the box, then walked slowly back to the elevator as she shuffled through the envelopes.
“Mmm,” she said, as she entered the living room upstairs again.
A letter addressed to David from Saunders University, she mused. That was odd. He wasn’t on the alumni mailing list—as only graduates were added to that multitude of people. So why were they sending something to David?
Sandra held the envelope up to the light, then tsked in disgust as her efforts did not reveal one clue as to the contents of the envelope. Darn it. Oh, well, it was probably a request for money even though David wasn’t an official graduate.
Sandra placed the mail in its designated spot on the credenza and headed back toward the kitchen. Her mind was once again focused on what she needed from the store, the envelope from Saunders University already forgotten.
Chapter Two
T he architect who designed the apartment building where the Westports lived had been very generous in regard to the size of the platform of the fire escape accessible through the window of the master bedroom.
Three years ago four families in the building, including the Westports, had put together a plan to spruce up the platforms. The men had provided the labor in the evenings, scraping, sanding, then painting each with glossy black enamel.
The women had supplied