Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

“They’d better be. And the necklace was inside?”

I glanced nervously at the box on the coffee table. “Yes. It’s there.”

“Good. Otherwise I’d have to have a word with the florist.”

I laughed uneasily.

“Will you come tonight?”

“Actually, I can’t tonight. I have to…stay with my sisters.”

Enzo clucked his tongue. “You see, darling, this is why you need to accept my offer. No girl as tempting as you should be alone in her bed at night.”

“I—I can’t tonight. I’ll be with my family.”

He sighed. “Tomorrow, then?”

“All right. Tomorrow.”

“I’ll be at the club.”

“I’ll come there.” The club—perfect.

“Wear the necklace, Tiny. And plan on staying.”

The connection went dead.

#

That night we ate together as a family for the first time since the day Bridget and the girls returned from vacation. She came over a bit early to give me a hand in the kitchen, while Molly and Mary Grace took the boys outside to play in the yard.

Actually, Bridget did most of the work in the kitchen. I sat at the table doodling my name and Joey’s on a piece of scrap paper when I was supposed to be writing down Bridget’s method for frying pork chops.

Tiny Lupo.

Frances Kathleen Lupo.

Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Lupo.

Huh, what was his middle name?

“Are you writing this down?” she barked at me for the tenth time when she caught me staring into space.

“What? Oh, yes. Egg. Bread crumbs.” I scribbled it down. Bread crumbs… Of course, my mind wandered to the pantry and nothing Bridget said got through after that. Eventually, she gave up.

“You’re not listening to a word I say,” she complained over the hiss of frying meat.

“I’m sorry, I’m too distracted. And besides, I think Joey will be doing the cooking for us.”

“I hope so, otherwise you’re going to starve.” She shook her head. “Just set the table, will you?”

Happy to oblige, I set eight places around the table and even hummed a tune while I worked. Bridget laughed.

“My, my. Such a difference in you, Tiny O’Mara! Just look what love does!”

I stuck my tongue out at her, but even my tongue reminded me of Joey and I got lost in dreamy thoughts again. Would he come over tonight? I’d gone almost twenty-one years without seeing him every night, but now the prospect of a single night without him seemed unthinkable.

When Daddy came in I held my breath, wondering what he’d say to me. But he said nothing unusual, just poured his customary evening whisky and poked his head out the back door to wave at the boys. Bridget and I exchanged a glance. I’d told her what Joey told me, and she was thrilled that Daddy wasn’t giving me trouble like he’d given her. But he wasn’t exactly jumping for joy either. I couldn’t help being a little disappointed—it wasn’t that Daddy was the type of father to be effusive with praise or affection. But when he felt strongly about something, he got worked up, and it seemed to me this was something he should feel strongly about, one way or another. I’d almost rather have an argument than silence.