“You'd go home with me, cupcake. And there'd be benefits.”
“Such as?”
“I'd warm up your pizza.”
Morelli lived in a two-?story row house he inherited from his Aunt Rose It was about a half mile from my parents' house with an almost identical floor plan. Rooms were stacked one behind the other . . . living room, dining room, kitchen. There were three bedrooms and a bath upstairs. Morelli had added a half bath downstairs. He was slowly claiming the house as his own. The wood floors were all newly sanded and varnished, but Aunt Roses filmy old-?fashioned curtains remained. I liked the mix and in an odd way would be sorry to see the house turn over entirely to Joe. There was something comforting about the curtains enduring beyond Aunt Rose. A tombstone is okay, but curtains are so much more personal.
We stood on the small front porch and Morelli cautioned me as he unlocked his door. “Brace yourself,” he said. “Bob hasn't seen you in a couple days. I don't want you knocked on your ass in front of the neighbors.”
Bob was a big scruffy red-?haired dog that Morelli and I shared. Technically I suppose it was Morelli's dog. Bob had originally come to live with me, but in the end had chosen Morelli. One of those guy things, I guess.
Morelli opened the door and Bob bounded out, catching me at chest level. What Bob lacked in manners he made up for in enthusiasm. I hugged him to me and gave him some big loud kisses. Bob endured this for a beat and then turned tail and hurled himself back inside, galloping from one end of the house to the other with ears flapping and tongue flopping.
A half hour later I was all settled in with my car parked at the curb behind Morelli s truck, my clothes in the guest room closet, and Rex's hamster cage sitting on Morelli's kitchen counter.
“I bet you're tired,” Morelli said, flipping the lights off in the kitchen. “I bet you can't wait to get into bed.”
I gave him a sideways look.
He slung an arm around my shoulders and steered me in the direction of the stairs. “I bet you're so tired you don't even want to bother getting into pajamas. In fact, you might need some help getting out of all these clothes.”
“And you're volunteering for the job?”
He kissed me at the nape of my neck. “Am I a good guy, or what?”
I woke up in a tangle of sheets and nothing else. Sunlight was streaming through Morelli's bedroom window and I could hear the shower running in the bathroom. Bob was at the foot of the bed, watching me with big brown Bob eyes, probably trying to decide if I was food.
Depending on Bob's mood, food could be most anything ... a chair, dirt, shoes, a cardboard box, a box of prunes, a table leg, a leg of lamb. Some foods sat better with Bob than others. You didn't want to be too close after he ate a box of prunes.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-?shirt and trudged downstairs, hair uncombed, following the smell of coffee brewing. A note on the counter told me Bob had been fed and walked. Morelli was better at this cohabitation stuff than I was. Morelli was invigorated by sex. An orgasm for Morelli was like taking a vitamin pill. The more orgasms he had, the sharper he got. I'm the opposite. For me, an orgasm is like a shot of Valium. A night with Morelli and the next morning I'm a big contented cow.
I was coffee mug in hand, debating the merits of toast versus cereal, when Morelli's doorbell rang. I scuffed to the door with Bob close on my heels and I opened the door to Morelli's mother and grandmother.
The Morelli men are all charming and handsome. And with the exception of Joe, they're all worthless drunks and womanizers. They die in barroom fights, kill themselves in car crashes, and explode their livers. The Morelli women hold the family together, ruling with an iron hand, spotting a fib a mile away. Joe's mother was a revered and respected pillar of the community. Joe's Grandma Bella sent a chill down the spine and into the heart of all who crossed her path.
“Ah-?hah!” Grandma Bella said. “I knew it. I knew they were living together in sin. I had a vision. It came to me last night.”
Two doors down Mrs. Friolli stuck her head out her front door so she didn't miss anything. I was guessing Grandma Bella's vision came to her last night after Mrs. Friolli called her.
“How nice to see you,” I said to the women. “What a nice surprise.” I turned and shrieked up the stairs. “Joe! Get down here!”
It was always a shock to stand next to Mrs. Morelli and realize she was only five foot, four inches in her chunky two-?inch-?heeled shoes. She was a dominant and fearful force in a room. Her snapping black eyes could spot a speck of dust at twenty paces. She was a fierce guardian of her family and sat at the head of the table of the large Morelli tribe. She'd been widowed a lot of years and had never shown any interest in trying marriage a second time. Once around with a Morelli man was more than enough for most women.
Grandma Bella was half a head shorter than Joe's mom, but no less fearsome. She kept her white hair pulled into a bun, tied at the nape of her narrow chicken neck. She wore somber black dresses and sensible shoes. And some people believed she had the ability to cast a spell. Grown men scurried for cover when she turned her pale old woman's eye on them or pointed her boney finger in their direction.
“This is a temporary arrangement,” I told Mrs. Morelli and Bella. “I had to leave my apartment for a couple days and Joe was nice enough to let me stay here.”
“Hah!” Bella said, “I know your type. You take advantage of my grandson s good nature and the next thing you know, you've seduced him and you're pregnant. I know these things. I see them in my visions.”
Jeez. I hoped these visions weren't too graphic. I didn't like the idea of being naked and woman-?on-?top in Bella's home movies.
“It's not like that,” I said. “I'm not going to get pregnant.”
I felt Joe move in behind me.
“What's up?” Joe asked his mother and grandmother.
“I had a vision,” Bella said. “I knew she was here.”