Cast Me Gently (4 page)

Her thoughts were interrupted by her mother pushing a steaming bowl of marinara sauce into her hands. “Go check on the table, will you?”

Teresa carried the bowl out to the dining room where the table was stretched to its max, and still they needed a card table set with four more places. In the living room, the men were gathered around the television, watching the Steelers game. There was a roar as Franco Harris charged through the Browns’ defensive line to score a touchdown. Gianni had finally appeared, having slept in until almost eleven, “and not making it to Mass,” Teresa had pointed out to her mother whose only reply had been to scold Teresa again for leaving Mass early. She could hear the kids running upstairs.

Ana Maria was already sitting at the table.

“Can I get you anything?” Teresa asked.

“A glass of wine would be good,” said Ana Maria.

Teresa frowned. “Are you allowed to have alcohol?”

Ana Maria’s temper flared. “If I can’t have a little wine on a Sunday, then God take me now!” She slapped the table to emphasize her point.

“Okay, okay,” said Teresa, going to the sideboard where three bottles stood ready to be poured with dinner. She uncorked a bottle of Chianti and poured a small amount in a glass. “Here you go. It’s a good blood thinner.”

Ana Maria chuckled. “So it’s good for my heart?”

Teresa nodded. “Good for your heart.”

Ana Maria reached out and squeezed Teresa’s hand. “You’re a good girl. I don’t know what we’d do without you. I keep saying—” But whatever it was that she kept saying went unsaid as Sylvia called everyone to the table.

The men came slowly, stopping to watch “just one more play” as Sylvia and the aunts filled plates for them and for Francesca’s two children, Daniela and Rickie.

“Sit with us, Aunt Teresa,” they said, pulling her to one of the chairs at the card table.

The men were finally seated as Sylvia and her sisters fussed to make sure everyone had what they needed.

“Ma, sit down,” said Teresa. She reached across the table and cut Rickie’s ravioli for him. He already had a face full of sauce. Teresa swiped her napkin across his face before he could squirm away.

The women had barely sat down when Gianni shoveled the last of his ravioli and gnocchi into his mouth and stood. He untied the napkin from around his neck and wiped his mouth.

“Where are you going?” Sylvia demanded.

“I got a date,” he said. He took a comb from his back pocket and ran it through his hair.

“Oh, John Travolta’s got a date,” Teresa said.

“Shut up,” Gianni shot back. “At least I know what a date is.” He gave Sylvia a practiced smile. “Got to go to another dinner at Angelina’s.”

“Tell Angelina’s family we said hello,” said Sylvia, her tone changing immediately.

Teresa almost choked. “If he’s going to Angelina’s, then I’m Annette Funicello,” she said, but her comment was lost as the Steelers scored again and Lou roared, nearly upsetting the entire table when he jumped up. Lou carried his plate out to the living room where he could eat and watch the game. Dom looked around to see if Lou was going to get yelled at, and then followed with his plate. The women resumed their conversation, and Teresa turned back to her niece and nephew, who were squirting ricotta through their teeth. With a sigh, she reached for her wine glass.

CHAPTER 4

A hard October frost
had hit overnight and the windows of Ellie’s bus were steamed up. People hunkered down into heavy coats and scarves, some with hats pulled low—
like armor,
she thought as she looked around.
Maybe that’s why we need holidays in winter, because everyone pulls in and puts up armor. We need a way to keep from turning into hermits.

She stood as she neared her stop. “Have a nice day, Larry,” she said as she hopped down the steps.

“You, too, Ellie.”

She briskly walked the last couple of blocks to the bank. Her breath puffed out in frosty blasts. Out of habit, she scanned the faces of people she passed, hoping for some sign of something that looked familiar.

“Morning, Mr. White,” she said as she entered the staff room and hung her coat in her locker.

“Morning, Ellie,” said Bill who was pouring himself a cup of coffee and talking to the man who had tried to ambush her lunch break a couple of weeks previously. “Have you met Aaron Myers? He’s one of our loan officers.”

“We almost had the pleasure,” said Mr. Myers with a wide smile. He took Ellie’s hand and held it longer than necessary. Ellie pulled her hand away and turned back to her locker as the men left the staff room, leaving the countertop littered with plastic stirrers and empty sugar packets.

The back door opened and the head teller, Suzanne, came in.

“Hi,” said Ellie as she grabbed a paper towel to wipe the counter clean.

“Why are you always so cheerful?” grumbled Suzanne, who was struggling to shrug out of her thick coat.

Why are you always so crabby?
But instead of saying it, Ellie smiled and helped her off with her coat. “It makes the day go by faster,” she said. “You should try it, Suzanne.”

She left the staff room, not waiting to hear whatever it was Suzanne was starting to say, and went to the vault to get her drawer. She took it to her window and counted her money, marking her money sheet as she counted. It was exactly as it should be. The other tellers, Suzanne and another young woman named Linda, carried their drawers to their windows and likewise counted their money while Mr. White stood at the front doors, holding a pocket watch in his hand. A customer stood shivering outside, but Mr. White waited until precisely nine o’clock before turning the key to unlock the doors.

From above her, Ellie heard voices. She looked up to see Aaron Myers talking to another man, gazing down over the balcony to the bank lobby below. His eyes met Ellie’s, and she quickly lowered her head, rearranging her paper clips and pens.

She smiled her way through the morning, greeting each customer who came to her window, remembering some of them by name. That always made them smile in return and it had become a kind of game to her, to see how many people’s names she could remember. Sometimes, it was the only way to keep from screaming at the sameness of the days. Lunchtimes lately had been spent indoors as it was too cold to eat in the park. Day after day, Ellie had listened to Linda talk about her upcoming wedding—the engraved invitations that the printer had messed up, the guest list her mother kept adding people to, her latest fitting for her dress, the squabbles among her bridesmaids. Ellie nodded and smiled, her eyes glazing over, but listening to Suzanne was even worse as she complained daily about her husband who had been laid off from a steel mill, sitting around the house in his underwear all day, not doing anything, not looking for work, waiting for her to get home and make dinner after working at the bank all day.

Ellie felt a rumble from her stomach, and looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes left before the bank closed for the lunch hour.

“He did it again,” Linda said, turning from the drive-through window.

“Who did what?” Suzanne asked.

“Lou Benedetto,” said Linda with a frustrated sigh. “He always drives off without his deposit receipt.”

Ellie looked up. “I’ll take it to him.”

Suzanne looked at her as if she were crazy. “We usually just mail it.”

Ellie walked over to Linda. “I have to run an errand at lunchtime anyhow. It’s no problem. I can walk it down there… if I can take a little longer than my half-hour?” she added as Bill White came by.

“Lou is a good customer,” he said. “Sure, take it to him if you don’t mind. Linda can count your drawer. It’ll make us look good. Thank you, Ellie.”

Ellie stifled a laugh at the rancorous look on Linda’s face. She took the receipt and went to the back to get her coat from her locker. Tucking the receipt securely in her pocket, she remembered to grab her sandwich from her backpack.

She walked quickly, eating as she went, but the smells of food as she passed through the Polish neighborhood made her jumbo sandwich seem less than appetizing.
You have food,
she reminded herself sternly.
You don’t need to spend money on more,
but she gazed longingly at the plump pierogi steaming on the plates of the customers inside Kowalski’s Diner.

She smiled and said hello to the people she passed, until, coming to an intersection in Bloomfield, she didn’t know which way to turn. “Excuse me.” She hailed a passing woman laden with a stuffed shopping bag hanging from the crook of her elbow. “Can you tell me where Benedetto’s Drug Store is?”

The woman pointed. “One block that way.”

“Thank you,” said Ellie.

She found the store and paused outside, looking at the display in the front window. There were small figurines of the Madonna, Jesus, and what she supposed were various saints posed around small replicas of Italian landmarks—the leaning tower of Pisa, the Coliseum, St. Peter’s Basilica. She pushed the door open, and a small bell overhead announced her arrival.

If she had thought the smell of pierogi was tantalizing, the aromas now assailing her senses were even more appealing. She recognized the rich scent of chocolate, but there were others she couldn’t identify.

“Can I help you?”

Ellie turned to the candy case where an attractive woman with a white streak running through her black hair was standing, a starched white apron covering her front.

“Yes, I—”

“Ellie?”

Ellie turned to see Teresa Benedetto stepping down from behind the pharmacy counter. “Miss Benedetto,” she said, smiling. “How nice to see you again.”

“Ma, this is Ellie…?”

“Ryan.”

“Ellie Ryan from the bank. This is my mother, Sylvia Benedetto.” Teresa spied the paper in her hand. “My father drove away without his receipt again, didn’t he?”

Ellie nodded. “Yes. I thought I would bring it to you. I wanted to take a walk on my lunch break anyway.”

“That’s nice of you,” said Sylvia. “It’s chilly out there. How about a cappuccino to warm you up?”

Ellie flushed. “No. I couldn’t.”

Teresa quickly said, “We can’t send you back out into the cold without something. It’s on us.”

Sylvia looked at her sharply for an instant, and then echoed, “Of course. As a thank-you.”

Ellie smiled. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

Teresa stepped behind the coffee counter while Ellie looked around at the framed photos of various places in Italy dotting the walls behind the counters and the Italian products lining the shelves.

“This leather smells so good,” Ellie said, holding a purse to her nose.

She took her coat off and sat at the counter.

“This store is really cute,” she said. “I feel like I’ve stepped into Italy.”

“Have you ever been to Italy?” Sylvia asked.

Ellie’s face lit up. “Not yet. But I want to go. Someday. Italy and France and England.” She stopped abruptly, as if she’d said too much.

Teresa turned to listen while the espresso machine churned and hissed behind her. The bell over the door tinkled again, and another customer entered. Sylvia greeted the woman by name and went to speak with her as Teresa poured frothy milk over top of the drink and slid it across the counter. Ellie’s eyes widened as she took a sip, the frothy foam leaving a white mustache on her
upper lip.

“This is delicious!”

“You’ve never had a cappuccino?” Teresa asked.

Ellie shook her head, taking another sip.

“But you want to travel?”

“Oh, yes,” said Ellie, her face lighting up again. “I want to go everywhere. See everything.”

“What’s stopping you?” Teresa asked, curious.

Ellie’s cheeks burned red yet again. “Well, I’ve been saving money. Starting a travel fund. I have my passport. I’ll go.”

“Someday,” echoed Teresa with a smile.

Ellie cocked her head. “You’ve been?”

“What? To Italy?”

Ellie nodded, taking another sip of her cappuccino.

“No,” Teresa said. She wiped down the gleaming marble counter. “My folks went back about fifteen years ago to see family that’s still there. Tuscany. But I’ve never been.”

“You grew up here in Pittsburgh?”

“Yes. Born and raised. You?”

“Yes,” Ellie said. “My dad was a steelworker.”

“Does he still have work?”

Ellie looked down at her cup, her brow furrowed. “He got hurt in an accident at the mill. When I was ten. He lived a few months, but…”

“I’m sorry. That must have been hard on your mother. And you.”

“It was,” Ellie said.

“Do you live with your mom now?”

“No. She died before I graduated from high school. Cancer.”

“I’m so sorry, Ellie.” Teresa looked mortified, an expression Ellie had learned to expect when she answered questions about her family. “Do you have any other family?”

“I have a brother,” Ellie said brightly, but a shadow fell over her features. “He was in Vietnam, and well… he had a hard time when he got back. I haven’t seen him for a while.”

An awkward silence filled the air between them, while elsewhere in the store, Sylvia continued chatting with the other customer.

“Your window display is interesting,” Ellie said. “What’s it for?”

“All Souls’ and All Saints’,” Teresa said.

“Not Halloween? Does this neighborhood do Halloween?”

“Yes. I guess we just always do the religious part of it,” Teresa said.

Ellie got up and went to the window. Teresa followed. “You might get more people buying candy if you did a Halloween display,” Ellie said. “I mean, you sell candy, right? I don’t think saints have much of a connection to candy.”

“Not much.”

“It’s late in the season. I don’t even know if you could stock cheaper candy now, you know, the kind people would want to give away, not the good kind you have in the case. You could stay away from devils and witches, if that bothers some people,” Ellie continued, peering into the window, looking at the space available. “Do a whole display of jack-o’-lanterns and black cats and, if you have any little figurines—not saints or Jesus, I mean—you could dress them up in costumes like little kids trick-or-treating and—” She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to tell you how to decorate your store.”

“No,” said Teresa. “It’s a great idea. You should work retail.”

“Oh, I do,” Ellie said. “Before I got hired as a teller, I worked at Kaufman’s. I still work there during the holidays, to—”

She stopped, blushing yet again.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Teresa said, walking Ellie back to the counter. “I think it’s wonderful you have enough ambition to work hard to make extra money. My great-grandparents came here from Italy with less than fifty dollars. It’s only in the last ten or fifteen years that we’ve had the three stores, but it means I work about sixty hours a week here. When I was growing up, things were tight.”

“I’d like to hear more about your great-grandparents sometime.” Ellie drained her cup and set it back on the counter. “Thank you for the cappuccino.” She slipped her coat back on and donned her gloves. “I should get back.”

“Thanks for bringing the receipt to us,” Teresa said, opening the door.

“See you soon,” Ellie said as she stepped back out into the cold and hurried down the sidewalk.

She got back to the bank and took her place at her window just in time for the bank to re-open. There was a distinct chill in the air coming from both Linda and Suzanne.
Should have kept my coat on,
she thought with a smile.