It Had To Be You (7 page)

“It’s so … pretty!”

“That reminds me of a song.” Bertina began to sing, “I feel pretty, oh so pretty,” from
West Side Story
, and within seconds, we all joined in, creating a rousing chorus.

That’s pretty much where our party ended. Francesca appeared in my doorway with a sour look on her face. I found myself distracted, however, by her red negligee. So distracted, in fact, that I actually squeezed my eyes shut to force the image away. At once, everyone stopped singing, freezing in place. Bertina clamped a hand over her mouth. I couldn’t be sure if she did so to stop the song from flowing out or to keep from saying anything about Francesca’s attire.

“Ladies, I know you haven’t seen each other in ages,” Francesca said, her accent thicker than ever, “but I’ve
got
to get some rest, and you’re making it impossible. It was a long flight. A
very
long flight.” She gave my aunts a pensive look. “Surely we
all
need our beauty sleep.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop at that proclamation. Something about the words
beauty sleep
sounded like an accusation. The slumber party ended immediately, though I had my suspicions Bianca, Bertina, and Rosa would’ve tossed a few eggs at Francesca’s head if they’d happened to have any handy. And Sophia surely would have hurled a water balloon at her.

Francesca disappeared from view, and Bertina’s eyes narrowed to slits. She whispered,
“Il pessimo vicini e il parente
piu stretto.”

For this one, I had to ask for a translation.

“The worst neighbor is the closest relation,” Deanna whispered. “She’s trying to say this is going to be hard for Rosa, marrying into Laz’s family, especially with a woman like that in the mix.”

Rosa’s expression softened as she looked at her hair in the mirror once again. “Not so. Francesca just needs the love of the Lord, that’s all. I’m not giving up on her. She’s a sweet young thing.”

“Emphasis on
young
,” Bianca said as she rolled her eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with being young.” Rosa nodded, rubbing at her crow’s-feet as she gazed at her reflection. “We were all young once. Remember?” She turned back to her sisters with a smile.

A collective sigh went up, and the excitement fizzled out of the room. Nothing like being reminded of your age to shift things out of slumber party gear. Even Deanna—who couldn’t stop yawning—decided she’d be better off sleeping in Armando’s room.

After we parted ways, I settled into bed with Precious at my side. The little monster took my comforter in her teeth and began to chew with vigor. Still, I loved her. Couldn’t envision things any other way. Pulling the fabric from her teeth, I scolded her, then gave her a kiss.

As I rested my head against the pillow, I thought about what had happened earlier, when Sal met Rosa for the first time. The look on his face. The judgment in his eyes. So what if she wasn’t the thin, young beauty that Francesca was? Did that mean she wasn’t as valuable? How dare he formulate an opinion based on appearance only. Oooh, it made my blood boil!

I found myself growing angry and decided I’d better do business with the Lord about this before it ate me alive.

My words poured out like Rosa’s olive oil, and I shared my thoughts with God in rapid succession. He, in turn, calmed me down and reminded me that he saw every one of us as beautiful, no matter our appearance.

When my prayer time ended, I started thinking about Bianca and Bertina in their matching Scooby-Doo pajamas. How fun would it be to reach your fifties and still be best friends?

As the words
best friends
flitted through my mind, I thought again of Jenna. Reaching for my phone, I checked to see if, perhaps, I’d missed a call from her during our slumber party chaos. Sadly, no.

“What’s up with you, girl?” I asked, putting the phone back down. “Why are you avoiding me?”

I reached to turn off my lamp, then rolled over, ready to put all thoughts of slumber parties and best friends out of my mind.

On Monday morning, I met with the members of the swing band. They wanted a look at the facility to see how and where they would set up on the big day. I couldn’t help but smile as they pulled up in a renovated school bus with a large gold wedding ring painted on the side and the words Band of Gold emblazoned across it. Looked like their name had a dual meaning. They must play at a lot of weddings.

I watched in surprise as the band members exited the bus. Truly, I’d never seen so many elderly men in one place before. If I had to guess, I’d say the average age was somewhere around seventy-five. One of the men appeared to be much older, and a few were probably in their late sixties. Approaching the bus, I looked around for Gordy, the leader of the band.

“Bella Rossi?” A white-haired gentleman approached and extended his hand.

“The one and only.” I extended my hand and was surprised at his strength as he grasped it. Looks could be deceiving.

“I’m Gordy. These fellas are my band members. Happy to meet you. I can’t tell you how excited we are about this gig.”

“Same here. And I know my aunt and uncle are thrilled that you had the evening free on such short notice.”

“It’s a fluke, really. We were supposed to play a retirement home event that day—a Christmas banquet—but it fell through.”

“Their loss is our gain.” I offered him a warm smile, wondering about the fact that he still held my hand. Man, the fellow had a tight grip.

I managed to wriggle free just as I caught a glimpse of Laz and Sal approaching from our house next door. Sal took one look at the band director and nearly hyperventilated. For a minute there, I thought we were going to have to resuscitate him.

“Gordy? Gordy DiMarco?” he said as he approached. “Is that you?”

Gordy turned Sal’s way, his brow wrinkled. “Yes. I’m Gordy DiMarco.”

“You don’t remember me … us?” Sal waved his arms, suddenly loaded with zeal. “Sal Lucci.”

“From Atlantic City!” Gordy gasped. “How could I forget that name?”

“The one and only!” Sal grabbed him, gave him a tight squeeze, and began to speak to him in Italian, carrying on and on about the old days in New Jersey.

Laz stood off in the distance, a confused look on his face. A moment later, however, his face lit up. “Gordy DiMarco!” Laz pointed at the fellow. “I remember you now. I once sold you a vacuum cleaner when you lived in Jersey. Sal put me in contact with you. You were …” He paused a minute and raked his fingers through his thinning hair. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “You were one of Sal’s, um, friends.”

I knew what that meant. Sal’s ties to the mob in Atlantic City—however loose—had been infamous. Had this soft-spoken man standing before me now once been a mob boss, perhaps? Surely not.

Gordy nodded. “I remember those days.” He paused for a moment, the expression on his face shifting to one of chagrin. “You know, things were different back then.
I
was different back then. I’m not that Gordy DiMarco anymore.”

“We got old.” Sal grunted. “Nothing’s the same.”

“There’s more to it than that.” A wistful look passed over Gordy as he spoke. “I’m truly not that same man anymore.”

“Ah.” Laz nodded. “I think I get your point. Life has settled down?”

“
I
have settled down. Met the Lord face-to-face about ten years ago in the federal penitentiary and never looked back. The old Gordy is dead and gone. The new one is a resurrected man.”

“Well, hallelujah!” Laz practically hollered. “I had an encounter with the Lord myself.” His eyes lit up as he went on to tell Gordy about his conversion experience. “Happened in Jersey back in the seventies. I was walking home from my favorite bar, drunk as a skunk, when suddenly I saw what looked like a flash of light from heaven in the road ahead of me.”

“Really?” Gordy leaned in, obviously caught up in the story.

“Yep.” Laz’s voice grew more animated. “Then I heard a sound. Can’t really do it justice, but it seemed to rise up from the bowels of hell. The most intense thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No way.” Gordy’s eyes grew wider by the moment. “Then what happened?”

“Well, next thing you know, I’m belly-up on the road, my leg and shoulder aching something fierce. Turns out that flash of light was really a pair of headlights from a city bus. The screeching sound was the squealing of the tires as the driver tried to dodge me. In my drunken state, I’d apparently stumbled out into the middle of the street.”

“Oh my.” Gordy paled.

“He almost missed,” Laz continued with a knowing look in his eye. “Clipped me and knocked me to the ground. I was unconscious for a few minutes. Next thing I remember was being in an ambulance. They took me to the Sisters of Mercy Hospital, where the nuns patched my wounds and led me to the Lord.”

I remembered this story well. Laz always called it his Damascus Road experience. From everything I’d been told, he was never the same after that night.

“The Lord met me on that road … just like Saul of Tarsus in the book of Acts,” Laz said, his voice growing more intense. “The old Lazarro Rossi died that night, and the new one was born. I’ve never been the same. The nuns called it a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting.”

Sal grunted. “Never did buy into all that Jesus stuff. Makes for a great story, though. Very dramatic.”

I couldn’t help but sigh at Sal’s words. I knew my uncle had been working for months to figure out a way to reach out to Sal with the gospel message. He’d worked double time, teaching Guido memory verses and the lyrics to “Amazing Grace,” on the off chance that Sal’s parrot might play an evangelistic role. So far, the bird’s song choices had served only to irritate Sal.

Gordy turned to Sal, his face softening. “Well, until you’ve experienced it for yourself, Sallie, there’s no way to do the conversion story justice.” Gordy slapped him on the back. “But if you’re ever interested in hearing my sordid tale, I’ll tell it.” He flashed a smile my way. “Just not today. Today we have a wedding to talk about. You want to take us inside and show us around, Bella?”

“Of course!”

By now, the other members of the band had gathered around us in a tight circle. A few of them held instruments. I saw a couple of trombones and a few clarinets. What really got my attention, however, were the fellows with the tubas and the French horns. Their lips were already perched and ready on the instruments, and their fingers were moving in anticipation even before we got in the building.

Alrighty then. These folks love what they do!

I led everyone inside, giving them a few notes about the upcoming wedding and sharing Rosa and Laz’s vision for the perfect reception as we walked. When we got inside the reception hall, I finished my spiel. Only then did I realize there was a woman in the group. The silver-haired beauty came my way, tucked her clarinet under her left arm, and extended her right hand for a shake.

“I’m Lilly,” she said with a smile. Her soft blue-gray eyes sparkled in anticipation, and a whiff of tea rose rushed over me.

“Lilly, good to meet you.” I shook her hand. “Bella Rossi. I’m the manager of Club Wed.”

“Love your place. Great name too. Club Wed. Love that.” As she smiled, the crinkles around her eyes grew more pronounced. What a beautiful woman!

“Well, thanks. We like it too.” I didn’t tell her the name had been my idea, or that my parents had originally named the place “Bella’s Wedding Facility,” after me. No, those days were long gone. So were the never-ending traditional ceremonies. These days we focused on theme weddings, and man, we’d had a few doozies!

She clutched my hand, her tender grip exuding love. “We’re so happy to be here. I hope once you hear us play, you’ll invite us back.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will.” I stared at the silver-haired darling, captivated by her winning smile. “This is a first for us,” I explained. “We used a smaller group of musicians at a recent Renaissance-themed wedding, but never anything this size before.” I gestured to the crowd of band members. “There are a lot of you. Good thing we have a big stage area.”

“Well, we’re growing every day,” she said. “We started out with three clarinets, and now we have six. Started with one trombone, now we have three. God is really blessing us, I guess you’d say. Our horns runneth over.”

I giggled and said, “He’s blessing us too,” as a ditto. As I glanced around, my curiosity set in. “Are you the only female in the group?”

“Yes.” She grinned. “I weaseled my way in about four months ago. Several of the fellas still aren’t keen on it, but I’d do just about anything to …” Her words drifted away, and she gazed at Gordy with love pouring from her eyes.

“Ah. Say no more. I get it.”

She snapped to attention. “Anyway, let’s just say I’m happy to be in the band. And I sing for them as well. Just wait till you hear our rendition of ‘Eight to the Bar.’ Gordy and I sing in perfect harmony. Every note in tune.” Her cheeks blazoned red at that revelation.

“Well, maybe that’s a sign.” I winked and then went back to talking about the facility, not wanting to get in over my head. I had a feeling Lilly and I would have plenty of conversations in the future. I also couldn’t help but think she and Rosa would hit it off.

“Gordy, what do you think about this space?” Laz gestured to the large ballroom where the reception would be held.

“It’s a great setup,” Gordy said with a nod. “I can’t believe this facility is so big. Looks smaller from the outside.”

“Yeah, these old Victorians can be deceptive,” I said. “But Pop did a lot of renovations before we opened up. Took down a few walls to make more room for the banquet hall and the little chapel. And you should see the backyard. We’ve got the prettiest gazebo in town. Great for outdoor ceremonies, though not at this time of year. We don’t get any requests for Christmas weddings in the gazebo.”

“So, the wedding will take place in the chapel?” Gordy asked.

“No, in here.” I pointed to the reception hall. “The chapel won’t accommodate the number of people we’re expecting.” “That’s right,” Laz said. “The ceremony and reception are going to be in the same room. We’re expecting a lot of guests and want them to be comfortable.”