Authors: Michele Lynn Seigfried
I found
Kris and Kris, Jr. seated at a table in the back of the second dining area. Kris was even dreamier than I had remembered. His dark brown hair and mesmerizing hazel eyes. That boyish grin and perfect body. I had to tell myself to calm down and act normal. I noticed Kris had brought a bottle of wine with him. Federici’s was a B.Y.O.B. restaurant and I thought it was thoughtful of him, since he knew I was becoming sort of a wine aficionado in recent years. I felt like a giddy little girl from the moment I saw him.
He stood up and pulled out my chair and I took a seat at the table.
What a gentleman
, I thought. “Hello, little man,” I said to Kris, Jr.
“I’m not a man
; I’m a boy,” Kris said, correcting me.
“But you look so grown up; are you sure?” I
asked.
He looked at his dad and said, “I all growed up now.”
“You certainly are growed up now,” Kris said with a smile.
I announced my good news
about the job almost immediately.
“A toast is in order!” Kris exclaimed.
He uncorked the wine bottle and poured two glasses. We made small talk and munched on the Italian bread while we waited for the waitress to take our order. During the meal, we became engrossed in conversation. I gazed deep into Kris’s eyes, then nervously glanced away. It was then that I realized that Kris, Jr. was gone from the table.
“Where did he go?’ I asked.
Kris looked around, then lifted the tablecloth to get a view of what was hidden underneath.
“Kristof, get out from under the t
able,” Kris scolded.
Instead of listening to his father, Kris, Jr. grabbed the edge of the tablecloth and yanked as hard as he could.
The wine and food went flying. I was covered in zinfandel, Kris was covered in marinara, and the floor was covered in glass shards.
“Kristof!” Kris yelled through his clenched teeth.
Kris, Jr. ran out from under the table and down the aisle of booths. He grabbed a random tablecloth from a booth seated with an elderly couple. Faster than Kris could grab him, he yanked it. The old lady was suddenly covered in
putenesca
and the dishes and glassware shattered on the floor. Kris chased his son, but the little boy was way too fast. He went to a third table, and
crash
! It happened again. Kris was mortified.
Gee, I thought Mandy was bad
, I thought as I looked down at my wet clothes. When Kris finally caught up to him, Kris, Jr. took off running again. This time, he slammed into a waitress who was carrying a tray of drinks. She dropped the glasses and various colorful liquids spilled all over Kris, Jr. He started to wail. Kris grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him back toward our table, but before he could get there, the owner came out of the kitchen, and screamed at Kris and Kris, Jr. in his thick Italian accent, “Get out of my restaurant, get out, get out!”
Big Kris dragged little Kris out of the restaurant.
I threw some cash on the table and joined them in the parking lot, having exited through the side door. I was beyond thankful we hadn’t been seated in the same room as my future bosses. I would have been mortified.
“I don’t even know where to begin to apologize.
Your clothes are ruined—I’ll buy you a new shirt,” Kris said.
“It’s okay
, Kris. That was probably one of the most interesting dates I’ve had.”
Kris, Jr. started screaming and tried to wriggle away from him.
“I’ve gotta go,” Kris said with a longing look in his eyes. “I hope you’ll let me make this up to you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said as
I headed to the other end of the building where my car was parked. I sulked back to my car, disappointed in how the date went. I must not have been watching where I was walking, because my heel slipped out from underneath me on a patch of black ice and
bam
! Down on the asphalt I fell, cracking the back of my head. I sat up and looked around. I blew out a sigh of relief when I realized Kris was nowhere in sight and didn’t witness me falling on my rump. I was also happy my new bosses weren’t in the parking lot either. I scrambled to my feet. I had ripped my pants. I placed my hand on the back of my head and found I was bleeding a little. I imagined I would have a nice headache in the morning. I jumped in the car and drove home with a severe injury…to my ego.
My parents were confused when I showed up back at home less than an hour from when I left,
with a gash on my head, my clothes tattered, and my body smelling like a winery.
“
What happened?” my mother asked, alarmed.
“You don’t even want to know,” I said.
“So, I’m taking it your date didn’t go well?” my dad asked.
“It was an epic failure,” I said.
Then I went to my room to change.
* * *
I awoke early the next morning with my head pounding, as I predicted. I dragged my feet down the hallway and into the kitchen to find the ibuprofen. I was hoping Mandy didn’t wake up before the meds had a chance to kick in. Snickers sat whining at my feet, letting me know his bladder was full. I let him out the back door, then I went to the front door, cracked it open, and reached out to get the morning newspaper. I saw that there was a lead in the Vinny Buttiglieri case. The article said the police suspected mafia involvement. A snapshot of Gino and Cal flashed in my head.
Nah
, I thought. Vinny was found in Bordentown, which was more than an hour away. It couldn’t possibly be the same people. With a name like Buttiglieri, it seemed to me that he could have been involved in the mafia. The news put my mind at ease that the killing of Vinny wasn’t job related.
It was nearly noon when my phone rang for the first time of the day.
I was in the middle of cooking lunch, so I didn’t answer. The answering machine clicked on and I heard Kris’ voice. He left a message apologizing for our date. It wasn’t really his fault, but it was certainly a nice gesture on his part to apologize.
“Why do you
suppose the police are suspecting mafia in Vinny’s case? Are they on to us?” the first killer asked.
“Relax.
You worry too much. If they were on to us, they’d be raiding our houses right now with their search warrants. They don’t know nuthin’!” the second killer retorted.
“Why are they saying
‘mafia’? There should have been no evidence.”
“Did they say the Righetti family?
I didn’t hear Righetti family. They didn’t say which mafia at all, as a matter of fact. And technically, those with the last name Righetti didn’t kill Vinny anyway. We did.”
“Well,
you
did.”
“And you think you weren’t an accompl
ice? Let me tell you something – there ain’t no way to tell who fired that gun. If I go down, you’re coming with me.”
“
Thought you told me to relax, that they don’t know anything.”
“I did. But if you go running your mouth to anybody, and I mean anybody, you’re going to be sorry that you did.”
“I ain’t talking to no one.”
“And you better not.
So help me God, if I found out you’re talkin’…”
“I said, I ain’t talkin
’.”
“Al
l right, then, we have an understanding.”
* * *
On Monday morning, President Coglione called me promptly at nine.
“Good morning, Chelsey.
This is Marc Coglione from Coral Beach. I hope your dinner at Federici’s was nice.”
“Oh
, hello, President Coglione. It was very nice,” I lied.
“Please, call me
Marc. I wanted to invite you to Wednesday night’s board of trustees meeting, where we will swear you in as municipal clerk. That is, of course, if you are willing to accept the position.”
I tried not
to let my voice get too high due to the excitement. I wanted to jump through the phone and hug him. We negotiated for a salary that I thought was fair and I told him I’d see him on Wednesday night. He asked me to start work the following Monday, and I happily agreed. I was about to burst with the good news, so I called a few people to tell them about it…Kathy Norcia, my parents, and Kris. My parents said they would be attending Coral Beach’s meeting on Wednesday to witness my swearing in. Kris said he would take me out on a “real” first date to celebrate. Kathy was thrilled for me.
Once again, I found myself in my closet
, going through clothes that would look professional for the big meeting on Wednesday. I hadn’t felt so happy in a very long time…too long to remember, in fact. I could barely sit still until Wednesday came along. And when Wednesday did come along, I could barely sit still through the meeting. My excitement and my nerves were getting the better of me. Mandy was acting up, so I decided to leave her home with my dad, while my mother and I drove over to Coral Beach’s village hall.
Coral Beach’s municipal building was
miniscule, which is typical for a small shore community. It was located mid-block on Main Street. It looked more like a private home than an office building. A ranch on steroids, perhaps, since it was situated atop supports meant to keep the floodwaters out. It had beige vinyl siding with a slate gable roof. A small plaque out front said “Village of Coral Beach, c. 1899.” We took the stairs up to the decorative glass doors with white wood trim and then proceeded down the hallway, following the blue directional signs to the boardroom. We took our seats in the room, and noticed that not many residents had arrived.
Marc
called the meeting to order. I noticed his gray roots peeking through his dye job in the fluorescent lighting. I thought he’d look better if he had a professional colorist take care of his hair. I shook my head and thought,
Stop being so shallow, Chelsey!
Winifred was draped over the dais with her nose in the air, similar to how she portrayed herself during the interview. A very short skirt was the most notable part of her ensemble. Too short by most standards of professional attire. The other members of the board seemed normal. Aspen was decent-looking and dressed in a nice suit. John and Jamie wore casual clothing and looked like happy-go-lucky people.
As the agenda moved along at a snail’s pace, my mother warned me to stop biting my fingernails.
I was so nervous; I hadn’t even noticed that I
was
biting my nails. I tried to sit up straight and act professionally. When it was time for the vote on the resolutions, my resolution was held until last. Marc finally asked for a motion on the resolution appointing me as municipal clerk for a three-year term. John made the motion, and Jamie offered a second. I was on the edge of my seat. I was trying to be patient, but I couldn’t wait. My stomach was in knots. The village attorney, who was acting as the clerk, did the roll call.
“Ms. Brooks?”
he asked.
“Yes,” she replied
.
“Mr. Paparazzo?”
“Absolutely,” John replied.
“Ms. Strega?”
“No,” she said.
No?
She said no? I’m sitting right here. She said no in front of me? I cannot believe she said no right in front of me!
I turned and looked at my mother with a look of fear of my face. My mother shook her head.
“You’ve got it,
” she whispered.
The attorney continued.
“Mr. Ravens?”
“Yes,” he replied.
I let out a sigh of relief.
“Mr. Coglione?” t
he attorney asked.
Marc
said, “Yes, and welcome aboard, Chelsey.”
He invited me to the front of the room to be sworn in and he asked my mother to hold the
Bible. I placed my left hand on the Bible and raised my right hand. The attorney administered my oath of office, then shook my hand. The few people in the room clapped and I thanked the board. Marc announced that I would be starting work on Monday morning. All who were in attendance were then asked to step out of the room, since the board had a closed session next on the agenda.
My mother and I headed out of the meeting and back to car.
“I was worried there when Winifred said no,” I said to my mother.
“I wasn’t worried.
I knew you had the job. You didn’t need her vote,” my mother said.
“I had a feeling
during my interview that she didn’t like me for some reason. I just didn’t think she would actually vote no in front of me. I thought that would take place behind the scenes.”
“You know these politicians.
She was probably trying to make a statement to someone that had nothing to do with you personally.”
My mother was a wise woman.
I believed she was likely correct. I always tried to stay out of the politics at work. I felt like I didn’t need to know and I didn’t want to know what was going on behind the scenes. I wanted to bask in my accomplishment of landing a new job for a little while. Little did I know at the time what I was going to be getting myself into. Had I only known then…
* * *
I started working for the Village of Coral Beach on Monday. I was introduced to the other employees and learned the basics, such as where different offices were located, how to use the phones, and how to log into the computer network. My office was situated near the main entrance. The tax office was next to mine, and there was a door adjoining the two offices, which was typically left open. Since our offices received the most walk-in customers, it made sense to have us near the main entrance. We also shared a copier and coffee machine. Having coffee at arm’s length was a plus in my mind!
I was a pretty happy camper, until I discovered that I had taken a p
osition without any office help. The board of trustees had failed to tell me that the assistant, Joni Cabana, had quit unexpectedly without giving notice. She simply upped and left the building. I asked around, but no one admitted knowing what had happened or why she left. They only knew that Joni had decided to hightail it out of there.
I called my old friend and former assistant, Bonnie Fattori
, to let her know that we seemed to have a job opening. Bonnie was also involved in the situation at our former place of employment. She was shot in the chest and it had taken quite a bit of time for her to recover completely. She also sued, won a settlement, and was currently out of work, by choice. She was married to a neurosurgeon named Jayce, so she didn’t have to work, but she liked having extra spending money and I knew she was recently considering a move back into the workforce. She had probably blown the entire settlement on something ridiculously overpriced, like a couple of pairs of shoes.
“Hey
, Bonnie! It’s Chelsey.”
“Chelsey, my dear old friend.
How is your new job going?”
“It’s going great so far
, especially since I’ve only been here for a few hours. No crazy accidents or scary residents to report yet. I called to let you know that there is an opening here.”
“Really?
What’s the job entail?”
“It’s an assistant for both me and the tax office. It pays slightly more
than you made in Sunshine. The tax collector is named Dingo Malvagio, and the assessor is Bryson Coach, Bryce for short. I really don’t know anyone since today is my first day of work. So far, the collector seems a little strange, but the assessor seems nice.”
“Coach?!”
“Yeah, Coach.”
“Any relation to the people who make Coach handbags?”
“I doubt that a relative to a multi-billion-dollar enterprise would take on a career as a tax assessor.”
“Darn, you know I love Coach.”
“You love anything that’s expensive.”
“True. Is he hot?
Will I have any eye candy to stare at?”
“Why doesn’t that question surprise me?”
I asked her. At our last job, Bonnie had a fascination with some of the handsome firemen. She could be crude and inappropriate at times. Some even said she was immature, but I loved her all the more for her off-color sense of humor.
“I wouldn’t exactly say either one of them are hot.
Bryce is easier on the eyes than Dingo,” I told her. “And, you know they say it’s easier to work for a man than a woman.”
“Yeah, I know.
My last boss was a total witch.”
“I do
n’t think I was that much of a witch. I let you get away with a lot!”
“Oh, you know I’m joking.
So first things first, do they have nice-looking firemen there?”
“Bonnie!”
“All right, fine. I’ll stop. Why did the assistant leave?”
“I don’t know
; no one seemed to know. Or maybe they just aren’t telling me. Maybe they don’t want to scare me off on my first day of work,” I joked.
“Where do I apply?”
“When I get the job posting, I’ll email it to you so you know where to send your résumé.”
I had really missed working with Bonnie.
She was a barrel of laughs. I was excited at the possibility that she would be working with me again. By the time we got off the phone, it was time for my lunch break. Wanting to make a good impression, I ate quickly and got right back to work. It was then that I had my first encounter with Babs Todaro. Babs was an eighty-nine-year-old resident of Coral Beach.
I answered the phone, “Coral Beach Village, Chelsey Alton speaking.”
“Who are you?” the voice on the other line demanded.
“I’m Chelsey Alton, the
municipal clerk. How may I help you?”
“Chelsey?
Are you new?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m new here.”
“Well, this is Babs Todaro. I’ve been living here for fifty years. I have a problem.”
“What can I help you with?”
“Well, you know, all winter long, there were no birds here on my property. And now they are everywhere.”
I raised an eyebrow and tried my darn
edest not to laugh. I couldn’t imagine where this conversation was going.
“Yes, ma’am
. I’m listening.”
“Well, it’s not right.
They wake me up early in the morning with all that squawking. And they are huge and ugly. Can’t you get them to go back to wherever they came from?”
I had no idea how to answer this question.
What I really wanted to say was, “This is the Jersey shore. If you’ve lived here for fifty years, then you know darn well that this area is plagued with seagulls,” but I refrained from the nastiness. I tried to think of a quick explanation that was polite, but my mind was blank. I remembered a lecturer from a customer service seminar I took that said something about asking questions. So, I opted to ask a question instead of providing an answer.
“Were the birds
there last year, before winter?” I asked.