Jay whipped round, frowning, but Cesare went on unruffled. “I know more than I can say, but I believe I don’t have to say it, in order for you to know it.”
As the old man turned towards the dining room, you could see his face better, its color. Barbara looked first to him, then to the Jaybird, and what could she show her husband except the prickly understanding that they had no choice? What, when the priest was prey to such wild moods? They couldn’t be sure what Cesare would feel like in another hour, whereas they could be sure about the kids. They’d stay put — for Paul’s sake if not for the parents’—and they’d have the grandmother with them. Barb could see at once how it would work, how it had to work, the lesser of two evils. The risk in the teenagers’ work with the gypsy was outweighed by the threat from the two outlaws who’d nearly killed the boys’ father.
Jay however looked dubious. He returned to Cesare, bent over in one of the head-of-table chairs, on the other side of the open double-doors to the dining area.
“If you’ve got something at the church, I guess I want to see it.” The husband kept his voice businesslike. “I mean, that’s the plan, right? Something at the church?”
The old man nodded without straightening up.
“Okay.” Jay lifted his chin, impressed. “Okay, we look at that, and you’ve still got your sacrament. Good plan.” The Vice President of Sales. “But after that, it’s like I say. Everything’s got to be on a new basis.”
The priest’s head came up while one foot waggled into its loafer. He declared that parents needed to see what he had for them; they needed to “understand the forces arrayed against them from the start, here.”
Jay frowned again, puzzled, grumbling. Barb wondered about the police. That was the last thing she needed, today, another visit to the precinct station.
“But beyond that,” Cesare said, “I don’t see that I’d need to have any more dealings with your family whatsoever.”
Aurora clucked her tongue and put her back to the man. It took her a moment to notice Paul, but when she did, the woman cocked an eyebrow, playfully.
In fact the eleven-year-old seemed the main concern, at the moment. Barbara bent to his ear, whispering a word or two. Best if the boy joined the others without additional rumpus; best if, after the things he’d seen already, he didn’t have to deal with either of the evils, lesser or greater, now facing his Mom and Pop. The middle child didn’t move, however, until Aurora made him an offer.
“You know, Paulie,” the grandmother said, “we don’t usually have all you kids together. We so rarely get an afternoon like this one, with everyone in one place. What do you say if we round up the others and put on a show?”
Just like that, the boy was ordinary again. Ordinary for a Broadway Baby, anyway: “With, with songs?” Paul asked, eyes shining.
“Oh, with songs, certainly.” The way Aurora nodded, she and Paul must’ve discussed the possibility before. “Songs and dances too, for the fairy-folk.”
“Well, well m-maybe not Chris. Chris, h-he can handle the music. H-he can, h-he can download the music, w-whatever we need.”
At the mention of the computer, the computer and her teens, Barbara tightened her hold on the middle child’s arm. Couldn’t let him go yet. Aurora didn’t fail to notice, and she caught the mother’s eye — was it the first time since they’d been yelling at each other? Quietly, so the men wouldn’t hear, she told Barb not to worry.
“Really now,” Aurora said, “we’re not so different, you and I. The children’s safety, and life of decent abundance — honestly, isn’t that all we’re hoping to achieve?”
“See,” Barbara said, “it’s hard to hear someone like you talking about ‘decent abundance.’ That’s a hard word to take, from a woman in golden velvet.”
“Oh, now.” Aurora was smiling again, but gently. “And this from a woman with five finished rooms in her basement.”
“What? Are you saying my utilities room is finished?”
The grandmother put a hand to throat, chuckling.
“As for Jay’s workshop, the kids were getting in there. Once that started, we had to put down carpet.”
“Barbara, indulge me. We’re not so utterly different. Let us say, neither one of us has so much in common with an abandoned child from Mexico.”
Barbara dropped her gaze. “I would say, when it comes to abandoned children, there’s no one who has a clue.”
Which seemed to take care of their business at home. Barbara let go of Paul, meanwhile telling the mother-in-law what she needed to know regarding Chris and JJ. “Just keep those two from sneaking away with the laptop, okay?” She didn’t have to get into the details, though she didn’t want to think about how much Aurora knew already. But there was no point doing something drastic either, like taking the machine with her when she left for the church. The boys could hardly erase Romy from their files. Soon enough the mother was running her fingers one last time through Paul’s hair, telling him to have fun. She caught a few words between Jay and the priest, and they too were finishing up. So long as you understand, Father, we can’t take long…like I say, some family business here….
As Paul picked his way around the coffee table to his grandmother, Barbara saw again how she might coexist peacefully with this woman. Peacefully, usefully — but before Barb could work out something for back in Bridgeport, maybe some help with the Saturday driving (the girls at one soccer field, the boys at another), here in Naples she had to allow the old playgirl one last dig at her momentary boyfriend.
“Oh, and Cesare.” Aurora paused between the two men, with Paul under one bright kimono-arm. “Always remember, this great revival of yours began with me.”
The old man’s prominent nose seemed to droop still lower.
“Do remember. The journey back to God began with your Aura.”
Naturally Jay and Barbara needed to check on the others, too. The girls and the teens had just finished a game of Life, and as the mother looked over the setup, it seemed like the most American thing she’d ever seen. At the center of the game board rose a plastic mountain ringed by a highway. Around it coiled suburban-style loops of road, decorated with futures so bright and various that just to look at them was like surfing through a 100-channel cable lineup. And somehow Aurora couldn’t have fit in more neatly, though it was Hindu yoga that kept her so spry, and though her shimmering clothes came from Persia and Japan. The widow settled down beside the board, tossing off a quick joke in a Noo Yawk bray. She assured the kids that their “nice old priest” was feeling much better, and breezily explained he going to “run a quick errand now with Mom and Pop.” Meantime the woman was picking up the game, she hadn’t forgotten her promise to Paul, sorting swiftly through the cards for good luck and bad.
A couple of scruffy types, perhaps clandestini, idled in the shade of the stoop as the Lulucitas emerged with their priest. But these were European, or as Euro as the golden-brown Romy. Perhaps a couple of Khazars, they might’ve been the beggars the police had stopped to check, earlier. In any case Barb knew what to do. She raised an open hand and, as she spoke her blessing, made sure they saw her lips move.
Also she dealt with her bodyguard. The young chowhound would’ve preferred to take the car, though it meant a roundabout of one-ways. Barbara had to insist, glancing up the stairs and thinking again of her mother-in-law, her trim flexibility. Here’s Neapolitan yoga, Aurora: the stairs. The security officer sighed mightily, combing the curls from his eyes with pudgy fingers. But the air on the hilltop wasn’t so heavy, so sulfur-rich, as down by DiPio’s clinic or Whitman’s studio. Besides, the gunman had Cesare to inspire him, a man in his seventies all but jogging uphill. The priest would wait for the other three at the top of each flight, his long face blazing with revival.