Ella, honey Im sorry about Paige. I tried to call you. Did you get my message?
I shook my head. Elbow was the Bermuda Triangle of cell phone reception.
She took a deep breath. Auntie Sophia had one of her episodes. I didnt know what to do. Paige offered and I
Its okay. I shrugged. Its okay.
She Paige seems so different now.
Different how?
So capable. She was whiny. Spoiled. She drove me crazy. She was no mother at all all she did was whine and complain and mope around. Certainly no wife to Joseph.
His name came out like a squeak. She said, Oh no. I wasnt going to do this. Im sorry, honey. You have your own tears.
I put my arm around her. You, I said, of all people, are entitled to cry. Were going to get through this. Come on. Lets eat.
She patted my hand. You sound so Italian when you say that.
Marcella had brought minestrone and I made a salad with the lettuce from our garden one thing Id picked and managed not to trample into the ground. Joes dad came over too, carrying a warm loaf of cheese bread from the bakery in Freestone. When the subject of the store came up, I got busy putting ice in Zachs soup.
One thing about our son, Joe said. We were proud of the way he carried on that store. In this day and age, its not easy. Those big-box stores. Everybodys gotta have fifty rolls of toilet paper just because its cheaper? Then they gotta build bigger houses to hold all that toilet paper? All those tree huggers living in these parts should know better. They put solar panels on their goddamn mansions.
Joseph. Your grandchildren.
Its craziness. But Capozzis lives on. He poured more wine. Not many years after my father opened, we almost lost his store. He and Marcella shared a long look. I knew exactly what he was referring to. The unspoken internment camp. But we persevere. I was worried that Joey didnt have what it takes. When he was younger, always off snapping pictures, head in the clouds. He thumped his chest. But he did the right thing. That boy loved my father. He honoured his grandfathers name. Joey made us proud. Marcella dabbed her eyes with her napkin, and Joe Sr changed the subject, asking Annie what shed done all day.
Annie looked at me before saying, I played with Mama.
Joe Sr asked, In the garden?
No not Mommy. Mama.
Mama, Mommy. Whats the difference. Mamma mia, thats what I say.
No, Grandpa. This is Mommy. She poked my shoulder. But the other lady is Mama. You know what I mean, silly.
As much as I loved Marcellas soups, especially her minestrone, each bite sizzled in my stomach, threatening anarchy. And the bread would not go down. Fear had parked itself in the middle of my digestive system.
Marcella said, Paige came by today, Grandpa.
What the hell for? Oh, for Christs sake, that woman, if you can even call her
Joseph Capozzi. Stop.
Well? Thats what he got for marrying a non-Italian.
Hey, I said, Im not Italian, either.
Honey, the way you cook and garden and heap love on your kids, youre an honorary Italian. Which is just as good. Almost. He tore off his bread and chewed, his eyes on me. He reached out and put his rough, calloused hand gently over mine.
After Joe Sr and Marcella left, I put the kids to bed and told my mom I wanted to check on something at the store. The parking lot was still almost full from the two restaurants in town. I wanted to get into the store without seeing or talking to anyone, so I went around back and climbed the stairs before turning on any lights.
I opened and shut the desk drawers, ran my finger over the carved words on the underside of what had then been his fathers desk, when Joe and David were bored nine- and seven-year-olds, waiting for their father to quit talking to a customer and close the store for the evening. Joe had shown me the carvings with a penlight, laughing as he told the story. He had used his pocketknife a recently received Christmas present from their parents that David coveted but had been denied due to his younger status. Joe had carved Joeys Market. Two days later, David had got hold of the knife, drawn a line through Joes name, and carved Davys. And so it went, back and forth numerous times, a lopsided column forming, until they got distracted and started fighting about something else. If tenacity had been the indicator of whose market Capozzis would become according to the carvings, at least the store would have been Davids, the last name without a line carved through it.
At first, going through the books was like trying to read Russian, but eventually the message was clear in any language: The store was in worse trouble than Id thought. It wasnt just the recently unpaid bills Id found in the files. How could I not know this? Joe had refinanced and pulled money out right before we got married. The store was in deep, deep trouble. The last few months had been the most brutal. No wonder he hadnt sent in the application for the new insurance policy.
I knew things had been tough. Joe had discussed some of it with me. But he hadnt told me the whole story. The store was losing money every day and had been for who knew how long? His parents didnt know I was sure of that. But maybe Joe had told his best friend.
I dialled Frank and Lizzies number, hoping Lizzie wouldnt answer. Lizzie, of course, answered and, in the middle of my apology, handed the phone to Frank. Frank mumbled a hello.
Did you know about this?
Ella? Do you know what time
Did you? Know about the store?
Where are you?
Here. At the store.
Ill be there. Give me a few minutes.
I made coffee. The coffeepot said three a.m., and Id thought it was still only ten or eleven. I tried to think: Franks face when Id told him I planned to keep the store. Had he changed the subject? Yes. I remembered. Id thought it was too difficult for him to picture the store going on without Joe. Hed looked away, asked if Annie was getting excited about starting school, said that Molly had already picked out her Pocahontas lunch box.
I unlocked the front door and let Frank in. Hed pulled on a Giants sweatshirt and his jeans and Uggs. I poured him a cup of coffee.
My teeth chattered, though I wasnt cold. Tell me, I said. Did you know about this?
What this are we talking about?
How many thises are there? My voice shook while I tried to keep it low, keep it from screeching.
Look. Back up, Ella. I know you have everything in the world to be upset about. But which exact thing are you talking about?
I took a breath. The store, Frank. The fact that its going under, and has been. Way under.
He kept thinking it would turn around, that it was just a slump.
Why didnt he tell me how bad it was?
Look. Calm down.
I leaned towards him. Do not, I said, tell me to calm down.
Financially, youll be
Its not about the money! I slumped into the chair. He was struggling all alone. I thought that recently the store had hit a slump but he never told me how bad it was unless I just had my head too far up my own ass to see it. I got up and paced. There was that time he flipped out over Callies vet bill. That hadnt seemed like him, but Id shrugged it off. And it was true hed recently let me in on concerns over the store, but it had been struggling for years. How could I have not seen this? I loved this man. I talked to him every day, Frank. And his whole business and livelihood is barrelling down the tubes?
Frank set down his coffee and pulled me into a hug. His chin moved against my shoulder as he spoke, just like when he came to tell me theyd found Joes body.
Dont you see? he said. He didnt want to bring that shit home. He felt optimistic that it would turn around. People will get tired of driving to Costco, he said. I told him that was the beauty of Costco; you only had to drive there once a month and you could load up with every little thing you could ever want for at least a month, if not six. He thought business would turn around any day. He didnt want it to interfere with what you guys had at home. He wanted your marriage to be different than, you know, what it was like for him and Paige. Look, dont be mad at Joe. There was a lot of pressure on him to keep that store going.
Joe had told me that before Grandpa Sergio died, he willed the store to Joe. Sergio said the store would be Joes to run, and eventually he would also inherit the land it was on when his parents were gone. Joe quit college and his dream of travelling the world as a photojournalist, and returned home to help his dad run the store. Several years later, he bought the cottage that had once been Sergios and Rosemarys at a family-discounted price and married Paige.
Im mostly mad at me, for not seeing it. I mean, I have to admit, I got upset when he did try to talk to me about money. I just had no idea how much he wasnt saying.
He shrugged. Everyones different, I guess. Lizzie would have been on my ass about it every day. That didnt help. I must have flinched, because then he said, But thats just Lizzie. Financially, youll be fine. My dads guy Hank fixed Joe up with a sweet life insurance policy. You need to go home and get some sleep.
I nodded, pressed my lips together. I didnt tell him that sweet policy never quite happened. Frank? Thank you. Im sorry I woke you up and then dumped this all on you.
No worries. Come on, Ill walk out with you.
You go ahead. Im going to put stuff away upstairs, and then Ill head home.
Promise?
Yeah.
But I went back upstairs and looked through every file again and again. Everything was exactly where it should be; it was just that there were numerous payables files. I drove back home in early morning light and finally felt like I could sleep. I would figure out something.
When I walked into the kitchen, Annie sat on the kitchen counter talking on the phone, clicking her feet together, pink fuzzy socks ricocheting off each other. She giggled. Callie sat alert at my feet, thumping her tail on the floor, hoping doggy treats were in the grocery bags I carried, but they held only the stores books. Joe had always remembered Callies treats.
Annie said into the phone, Okay. I love you too. Bye.
She hung up. I picked her up off the counter and held her. Her soft tangles of hair tickled my neck. She smelled like the peach girly powder shed talked me into buying her at Target. My angel of mercy in SpongeBob SquarePants jammies. Morning, Glory.