She glanced behind her. “Brando’s not home.”
“All the better.” I smiled.
“Is this for girls only?” She seemed to brighten at the idea.
“Sure. We can make it like a girl’s club.”
She clapped. “Oh, girl! That sounds like a riot. I love how saucy you are! Can you tell me what this superpower is?”
“I—” The words froze in my throat. I kept my eyes steady on hers, hoping she wouldn’t shut the door in my face, praying she would give me a chance. Taking a deep breath, I assumed the Superwoman pose. Hands on hips, legs apart. “Yes. Yes, I can. I want to—I want to teach you how to read, Maggie Beautiful. That’s a superpower.”
She giggled, which in Maggie Beautiful’s world equaled a despairing sigh. Her laughter was usually boisterous, full of bass. “You caught that, huh? Saucy and smart. You are a supergirl.” She appraised me for a moment. “I don’t know if I have it in me. I’ve never been one to cling to books or things like that. But.” A spark. “I’ve always wanted to read romance novels.”
I grabbed her hand, surprising us both, and squeezed. “You do have it. I promise! You do!”
She nodded, and I saw her throat bob with a thick swallow. “All right.” She moved aside. “Come in.”
“Thank you, Maggie Beautiful!”
She threw back her head and laughed. “You’d think it was you doing the learning!”
Maggie Beautiful insisted that we had to have music. I insisted that it had to be low. And so we agreed. She selected a Jimmy Durante tune and then set off to make us some hot chocolate. I settled myself at the table, taking out the books, and creating an organized learning situation. Not long after, she emerged, a cup piled high with marshmallows in each hand, and a leprechaun hat askew on her head.
I took a seat next to her, thanked her for the hot chocolate, and then took a huge gulp. The weather had turned frosty, but it was a humid frosty, and the cold refused to leave me—I was eager for the warmth.
I had to restrain myself from spitting the gulp out and force my throat to work. She watched me from behind her glass, a smile playing on her lips.
“Do you like it, Doll?”
I set the cup down, still feeling the burn. Not the burn from heat, either. “What did you put in it?”
“Bourbon.”
“Bourbon!” I almost choked on the word. “Maggie Beautiful! I’m not old enough to drink bourbon. And how am I supposed to teach you a superpower if I’m drunk?”
“Oh,” she said, slapping the air, “it’s good for teething babies. Why not for a chilly evening? Besides, bourbon will only make our supergirl abilities stronger. If all else fails, at least our dancing will improve. Dancing and singing always improve with bourbon. So do looks, but that’s only barroom mumbo-jumbo. But you’re a dancer, so I’m not sure if that will apply to you. How about singing. Can you sing?”
I pushed the books around, shaking my head. “Humming is as good as it gets.”
She put her cup down and set her warm hand over mine, ceasing my fiddling. Her face turned serious, and for the first time, her age truly shone through her facade. “Don’t tell Brando. Or the deal’s off.”
I put my hand over hers. “Why?”
She shook her head, a thoughtful look glazing over her eyes. “I want to surprise him. I want him to be proud of me, like he’s proud of you. I am who I am, and I’m not sorry for it. But it’s nice to see him look at you that way—like you’re special. I know, it’s different, the relationship between a man and a woman, but just once, I’d like to see him look at me like I’m special too.”
“You are.”
“Maybe. Sometimes,” she said quietly. “The Granchios, my parents, were late-in-life Italian immigrants. I came here when I was just a baby. I was born in Italy. Did you know that? No, why would you? I’m being silly. Anyhow, I’m not even sure if both of my parents were legal, but they started a ceramics business once they were settled. They didn’t even enroll me in school. I grew up helping with the business. That’s how I got into this mess in the first place. Luca Fausti blew into town. I mean that too—did you know that he’s a famous racecar driver?”
“No, Brando only said…only said that Luca…”
“Killed the sheriff’s wife?” She stared at our hands with a focused sadness. “He did that too. And after it all, I still love the man. I was just a kid. Fifteen. But I looked much older.Much older. I fell in love with him the first time I saw him. Head over heels. No other man could compare. That happens, you know. That kind of intense love creates a standard. Hell, theirlooksalone create a standard.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t a smile to entice a smile from me. It made me want to cry.
“You’ve seen Luca’s son. Let’s just say, Brando is his father’s son. To the bone. To this day, that man is one of the most stunning things I’ve ever laid eyes on. He could talk a habit off a nun, if he wanted to. I mean no disrespect to the Catholic church.” She crossed herself. “But the truth is the truth. It’s a sin to lie. I got pregnant within a month. Even more surprising, to me anyway, he was married. That’s when Margherita Granchio became Maggie Beautiful.”
She blinked. Really looked at me. It was like she was seeing me for the first time. “That’s why Brando wants you to stay away from me.” She waved a hand. “This place. He has high hopes for you, Doll. I’ve never heard my son refer to anyone or anything as his before.You.You’re his. You belong to him. And I’d say he belongs to you too, if it wouldn’t set him off.
