The Woman from the Past (Grassi Framily)

“Ma doesn’t do my laundry anymore.”

“Right. Right. Smush takes it to the laundromat then,” Nino guessed.

August’s silence spoke volumes.

But it was right about then that Cammie stepped out of the deli and made her way in the direction of the coffee shop.

I swear the woman looked better each time I saw her. Objectively, it was likely the freedom that was creating some happiness that was shining through.

All I knew was it was good to see.

“There’s my favorite working girl,” Traveler said as Cammie moved inside.

“Way to make me sound like a prostitute,” Cammie said, shaking her head as she accepted the coffee that Traveler already had prepared for her.

“I’m sorry, is this yours?” Cammie asked, waving toward the bag sitting on the chair at the table beside ours.

“Yep. Sorry about that,” Nino said, grabbing the bag he’d put there to save the table, and putting it by his feet.

“I haven’t met you yet,” she said, giving him a soft smile as she sat so her back was to the window. That way, anyone looking would see us speaking—presumably to each other—and her just sitting there at her table.

“Nino,” Nino told her.

“The eldest brother,” she said.

Because, well, some nights when I called, the conversation stopped being entirely about Colin and his organization, and started being more about little details of our lives.

Like her rough childhood, and the way she’d needed to sort of be a mother to her brothers since her own was dealing with her own mental health and substance abuse struggles.

Like my brothers and sister and our loud, crazy get-togethers.

I couldn’t tell you when or how things went from professional to something… else. But I found myself glad whenever the conversation shifted.

She came alive when she talked about her life before Colin, about her hopes and dreams after she was free from him.

And coming from such an unstable home, she seemed to relish in the stories about my over-the-top, but loving one.

“Is Rizzo getting any more tolerable?” I asked.

“She’s having a harder time finding reasons to yell at me now. But she actually had to leave early today,” Cammie said, smiling, clearly proud of how quickly she was mastering her job. It had to feel good after not having any way to accomplish anything for years.

“Who are you working with then?”

“Carmine,” she said, meaning Colin’s father. “He’s a lot easier to get along with. He actually told me to take an hour break because he was ‘sure I needed it’.”

“Hey, Travs,” August called, making the woman in question turn around with a glower that mademyballs shrink a little and she wasn’t even shooting it in my direction. I was going to go ahead and guess that she wasn’t a fan of the nickname.

“What do you want now? To bitch about the balance of foam to cream to caramel in your drink?”

“Actually, I was wondering if there was a back way out of this place,” August said, jerking his chin a bit toward Cammie.

“Oh,” Traveler said, looking first at Cammie, then at me. “Ah, yeah. There is, actually. And it just so happens to have this brick wall that separates it from the buildings on that side,” she said, waving toward where the deli was located.

“Go,” August said, shrugging.

“Go where?” I asked. The look he shot me said he knew where I wanted to take her. “It’s too risky,” I added, looking out the window.

“You know what’s so weird?” Traveler interrupted, coming over to re-wipe the table that August had haphazardly cleaned up. “I have this habit of wearing hoodies to work and then just… leaving them in the back room. There’s got to be four or five of them there right now.”