Greater Than Rubies, a Novella inspired by the Jewel Trilogy (4 page)

A quick look of disgust crossed her face as she surveyed either her husband or the selections on his plate. “Ugh. Church food. Not the slightest bit interested.” She put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, Antonio. I just had to pop in and say ‘hi.’ My curiosity was positively killing me as to who finally landed the most eligible bachelor I know and snagged you right out from under the noses of Boston society!”

At the conclusion of this announcement, Jacqueline Anderson actually looked Robin up and down from head to toe as if inspecting a Dickensian orphan or a horse of questionable pedigree. “I’m so looking forward to the wedding. The papers are already talking about how it’s going to be the event of the year.” She nodded toward Barry, who had stopped on his way back to the table to talk to Peter O’Farrell. “Be a dear and tell Barry I’ll see him later. I simply must go, now.”

She swirled away, leaving the cloying smell of expensive French perfume in her wake. Robin slowly sat as she watched her mink clad departure for a second, then her eyes skimmed over Barry, who’d barely glanced at his wife’s retreating back before continuing his conversation with Peter. She looked at Tony. “What was that?”

Tony lifted his red plastic cup. “That,
cara
, was Jacqui Anderson, in all her glory, being just as nice as she is humanly able.”

With an astonished tone, she asked, “And – Antonio?”

Tony actually grit his teeth. “It doesn’t bother me, but that fact doesn’t seem to stop her from trying to make it bother me.”

Maxine set her fork down. “Wow.”

Tony patted the back of Robin’s hand. “She will be extremely helpful in the wedding planning. She is a master at events. Just … don’t let her bully you.”

Maxine wasn’t done. “You know what? I’ll say that backwards. Wow. There.”

Robin took a bite of her cake, letting the chocolate frosting sing in her mouth before slowly chewing it and swallowing. She washed down that bite with a sip from a cup of really bad coffee in a white Styrofoam cup. “What did she mean by ‘the event of the year?’ She made this sound like it was going to be the next Royal Wedding.”

Tony waved his hand in a dismissive manner as Barry set his plate next to him. “Don’t let that bother you,
cara
.”

“I think the event of the year is exactly what it should be,” Sarah said dreamily. “Imagine what we could do!”

Maxine leaned forward and put her hand on top of Robin’s. “It’s okay, Robin. We’ll help you. We’ll get a really good wedding planner and it’ll be a breeze. I even have an old design instructor from college who opened her business last year. I helped her with some initial advertising. I’ll call her and see if we can meet.”

Suddenly nervous, Robin licked her lips. “I’m not sure. Why can’t we just elope?”

Tony laughed. “Because,
cara
, I want to show you off to the world.” He turned to Barry. “You free in the morning? I have some things to go over with you.”

Barry nodded around a mouth full of cauliflower casserole. “I have you blocked off until noon. After that, you’re buying me lunch. I’ve been out of the office for two weeks. I’ll go in at seven and make sure I don’t have any major fires to put out before I come over.”

Tony nodded as he looked at his watch. “Nine is good.” He snapped his fingers and turned to Robin. “I know what I forgot to tell you.”

“What?”

“You need to go ahead and get your passport application turned in. It takes several weeks, and I don’t want to delay our honeymoon.”

Her mouth felt a little dry as she contemplated, suddenly, all of the details she’d need to handle in the next four months. She barely heard him. “Passport?”

“Yes. To go to Italy. Remember?”

Mind whirling, wishing she had a pencil and a paper to take notes, she nodded. “Right, Italy.”

He frowned. “You okay?”

She shook her head and nodded. “Just a little overwhelmed. I need to remember where my birth certificate is, too.”

Tony took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Relax, my love. All will be fine. I promise.”

ONY
paused in working his way through the stack of end-of-the-year and fourth quarter revenue reports when his secretary, Margaret, buzzed through on the intercom. “Mr. Viscolli, there’s a young man coming up who has a business card with a handwritten note from you on the back of it.”

A happy relief flooded his chest. “Yes, Derrick. I remember him. Please have the chef send up some hearty hot food and some hot tea. Maybe hot chocolate, too. He’s going to be cold and hungry.”

He felt relieved to have a break. For the first time in nearly three years, Tony faced the unappealing prospect of having to instigate some layoffs. One of his West Coast endeavors was still infuriatingly and stubbornly unprofitable. The problem was that the project was currently overstaffed. But Tony had a stubborn streak of his own. From a public image perspective, he couldn’t lay his reputation on the line and layoff nearly 200 workers right before Christmas then turn around and employ at least that number of staff to pull off his wedding and reception a few months down the road. From another perspective, he realized that his employees had families and financial obligations and depended on his company to meet their needs.

But for the last two years, he had been throwing money at that company with no tangible profitable return. Half a year ago, the tax write off and depreciation options had stopped being very much fun. The bottom line was that it would have to turn around before the end of first quarter next year, or else he would have to write it off as a complete loss. Since that wasn’t an option, he had to get creative. He was going to have to pray long and hard about the problem.

Tony had time to file the reports away and make sure nothing pressing waited for him on his desk. Closing his eyes, he uttered a brief prayer, “Please God, help me focus on this meeting and let me make a difference in this young man’s life.”

As he raised his head, a knock sounded on his door. Margaret opened it without waiting for him to bid entrance, and in walked Derrick DiNunzio.

He had lost weight in the weeks since Tony first met him outside of a dirty bar in the absolutely wrong neighborhood. Tony had looked at the teenage boy with bloody knuckles and dirt on his face and seen a reflection of himself not long before. Then something, the Holy Spirit he supposed, pressed him to help this young man. He told Derrick to come see him when he turned eighteen. Now Derrick stood before him, right there in the same black leather jacket with the hole in the elbow, dirty jeans, worn out boots, and red-rimmed eyes. He had a scruffy beard and chapped lips.

“Derrick DiNunzio,” Tony said, stepping forward with his hand out. Derrick looked at it and hesitantly shook it. Tony gripped Derrick’s hand with his other hand, trying to convey friendship and warmth. “I’m pleased you decided to take me up on my offer and come see me.”

Derrick shrugged and tried to act tough, but he kept looking around at the very large and well appointed office. “Yeah, well you said maybe you had a job for me, Mr. Viscolli, and I could really use the work, so I came.”

Tony looked at Margaret over Derrick’s shoulder. “Just go ahead and bring in the food when it arrives if you could, Margaret.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Tony gestured to the brown leather couch and chairs that formed a sitting area near a lit fireplace. “Please, sit down, Derrick.”

Derrick shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched toward the couch. “What kind of job you need me to do, Mr. Viscolli?”

Tony ignored the question and sat in a chair facing Derrick. “
Lei parla Italiano
?”

The youth shook his head. “Nah. My mom, she didn’t speak English and she wanted to learn. By the time I was old enough to talk, she refused to teach me any except when she was cussing me out.”

“Well, cussing does sound more sincere in Italian, doesn’t it?”

“I never questioned her sincerity, Mr. Viscolli.”

Tony chuckled. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to knock some of the rust off my Italian while we talked. I guess it will have to wait until my honeymoon.” He sat back and hooked his foot on his knee, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off of the gray silk pants leg.

“Yeah, I saw in the Globe about you getting married. No disrespect. She looks smokin’ hot. Like, smokin’. Congrats.”

Once more it struck Tony just how much this young man reflected a younger version of himself. He vividly remembered – not so very long ago – having a very similar outlook and nearly identical priorities. What he couldn’t have realized is how much better his life could be when he stopped trying to run it himself and instead gave his life up to Christ.

With a little smile, Tony said, “None taken. And I agree. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So, you have a mother. Who else is in your family?”

“Just me.” Derrick’s eyes narrowed. “Why ya asking?”

“I am a curious man. My mother was alone when she came to Boston, pregnant with me. Her family had disowned her in Florence and my father had a great aunt here so she came to America. To say she was disappointed in our neighborhood is not an exaggeration.”

Derrick cocked his head. “My mom was from Naples.”

“Ah.
Napoli
.” Tony did a quick calculation. “Navy brat?”

“Air Force.” Derrick crossed his arms and leaned back. “Knocked her up, brought her here, then dumped her. She didn’t know anything about getting the military to track him down or nothing. Found out too late. He’s dead, now. I never met him.”

“In our neighborhood, that is nothing new.”

“You say ‘our’ like you’re still there. But, you’re not. You got out.”

Tony shrugged. “Not entirely. I still go to church near there, and I do a lot of community work there. But, you’re right, I no longer live there.”

“Again, no disrespect, Mr. Viscolli, but you don’t even sound like you ever lived in Southie.”

With a wave of his hand, Tony dismissed that remark. “That just takes hard work. I hired someone to teach me how to speak properly.”

Derrick gestured with his chin. “And the suits.”

“Right. That, too.” He tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “I have to maintain a certain look in order to do good business. That may or may not be ‘right’ on some fundamental level, but it is the way the world works. I recognized that and conformed.” He thought back to his teenage years. It might as well have been him sitting in that chair instead of young Derrick DiNunzio. God had given him a chance, and he would do the same for this young man. “My last winter on the streets, I slept in the doorway of that old brick building near that pasta place, Buenos. You know where I’m talking about?”

Derrick uncrossed his arms. “Slept? Yeah, I know the spot. There’s an old dude who sleeps there, named – “

“Georgio,” Tony interrupted. “Yes. He gave me tips for surviving the winter. Glad to hear he’s still alive. One of his tips was to go into churches during services to get warm. A lot of churches serve coffee and pastries afterward, too. I went into Boston Central Bible Church one cold night and it changed my life forever.”