“Yep. It’s the best. And it has Italian sausage from the butcher at Giovichinni’s.”
“It smells fantastic.”
“It just came out of the oven.”
Two cars were parked in front of Benny’s house.
“Drive around the block,” Grandma said. “The one car belongs to Dori Klausen. She won’t be in there long. She’s only dropping off. The other car belongs to the woman Benny hired to help Carla. She’s probably going to help with the reception after the burial.”
I did a lap around the block and parked in the space just vacated by Dori. We walked to the front door and rang the bell and the caretaker answered.
“We’re here to give our condolences to Benny,” Grandma said.
“Much appreciated,” the caregiver said, reaching for the casserole.
Grandma tightened her grip on the dish. “I gotta give this to him personally,” she said, pushing her way in, past the caregiver. “You understand.”
“He might not be up to visitors right now,” the woman said.
“I’m not just anyone,” Grandma said. “I was married to Jimmy Rosolli. I even got his La-Z-Boy. Benny gave it to me.”
“Who’s there?” Benny yelled from a distance.
“It’s Edna Rosolli,” Grandma said. “I brought you a casserole. Baked ziti with special sausage and cheese sauce. It’s for tomorrow.”
“Screw tomorrow,” Benny said, “bring me the casserole and a fork. I’m starving back here. All I ever get is a protein shake.”
“He’s supposed to lose weight,” the caregiver said.
“You’re killing me,” Benny yelled at the caregiver. “You’re fucking killing me. Excuse my language.”
“He’s in the den in the back,” she said. “I’ll bring him a fork.”
I led Grandma through the house to the tacked-on den. Benny was in the big comfy chair this time and the cat was in a donut-type bed by his feet.
“How’s it going?” I asked him.
“My wife died,” Benny said. “It’s not going so good.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“God’s will,” Grandma said.
Benny blew a raspberry at God’s will.
Grandma made the sign of the cross and looked up at the ceiling where I suppose God was lurking. “I had nothing to do with that,” she said to the ceiling.
“No offense,” Benny said. “You know I’m as good a Catholic as anyone else, but I’m not getting a lot of comfort from God.”
“That’s why we brought you this casserole,” Grandma said. “If God don’t come through, you can count on sausage from Giovichinni’s butcher.”
“You’re a smart woman, Edna,” Benny said. “I can see why Jimmy married you, should he rest in peace.”
Grandma put the casserole on a tray table by Benny and took the cover off the dish.
“Oh, man,” Benny said. “This is a work of art. It smells amazing. And the cheese!”
“It’s all hand grated,” Grandma said.