“Monday is laundry day,” I explained. “The girls are helping me get it all done.”
“Good. Make sure they know how to do it because pretty soon you won’t be there to show them.”
“You sound awfully confident about that, Mr. Lupo.”
“That’s because I know something you don’t, Mrs. Lupo.”
My belly turned completely inside out and the floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. “I’m not Mrs. Lupo yet, you know,” I said with the widest grin imaginable. “You shouldn’t count your chickens and all that.”
He laughed. “These particular chickens, I’m gonna count.”
“Tell me what you know that I don’t.”
“Uh uh, that’s no fun at all. You’ll just have to wait.”
“Joey!” I stamped my foot on the hallway rug. “Tell me, please!”
“And what will I get in exchange for this information?”
I blushed, peeking out the kitchen window to make sure the girls were still outside hanging things on the line. “I’ll do that thing,” I whispered into the phone.
“What thing?” He whispered too, although he was probably alone.
“You know...” I wobbled one leg. “The thing I did in the restaurant pantry.”
“Oh, that thing! In that case, I’ll tell you—I went down to the garage and spoke to your father.”
I stopped fidgeting. “What? You did?”
“Yes. I know you’re not the old-fashioned type, but I know my pop would’ve wanted me to ask your dad for his blessing.”
“And did he give it?”
Joey paused, and I closed my eyes, imagining the difficulties we’d face if my father put up impediments to the marriage. I wouldn’t care—I was going to marry Joey whether Daddy said it was OK or not.
“He gave it.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” I breathed. “One less thing to worry about.”
“He was surprised but not entirely shocked. And he grumbled about you leaving home a little, but in the end he shook my hand and wished me luck putting up with your sharp tongue and foul temper.”
“He did not say that!”
Joey laughed again. He’d probably never stop teasing me, but I could live with it—in fact, I’d learned I couldn’t live without it. “So should I come over now?” he asked.
“Now?”
“Yeah. You know. So you can do that thing.”
I clucked my tongue. “Good-bye, Joey Lupo. I’m going now and I don’t care if you ever call back.”
He was still laughing when I hung up.
#
Within the hour, the doorbell rang. Joey, you fiend. I was upstairs putting some clean clothing away and raced down the stairs to answer it, smoothing my hair and my blouse. Just before reaching the door, I slowed down as if I’d walked leisurely and put my fingers on the handle. Relax. He doesn’t need to know you’re out of your mind with need for him.
I pulled it open and blinked in surprise—it wasn’t Joey. It was a delivery man from a Gianni’s Flowers, and he was carrying a long white box. Over his shoulder I spotted his truck, painted dark green with white letting on the side.