“Catch ’em, Coop!” Carlotta shouts, pointing at the fleeing, glittering torsos. “They’re trying to escape!”
“Yeah, don’t let all that hard work go to waste!” Aunt Cat fans herself in their wake. “We spent good money making those pecs look so festive!”
“I still have more wax.” Niki waves a dripping ladle. “And I’m not afraid to use it!”
Cooper chooses to ignore them completely as his gaze locks onto his sister.
“Loretta”—he says slowly, as if speaking to a child— “what the hell is going on here?”
Loretta Simpleton—or Salami, take your pick—straightens and tucks her weapon of a handbag under her arm while linking her elbow with Lorenzo’s. “What were you saying?”
“I said, what the hell?—”
“I meant him,” she cuts Cooper off, nodding toward Lorenzo. “He’s the love of my life, and he just landed this ice cube on my finger tonight.” She holds up her left hand, where a diamond the size of a small planet catches the light and nearly blinds everyone within a ten-foot radius.
Every woman on Earth gasps simultaneously. The rock is less a diamond and more like that glacier that sank theTitanic, only sparklier.
“My eyes! My eyes!” Aunt Cat cries, shielding her face.
“Why is it so shiny?” Carlotta squeezes her peepers shut. “Is that legal to wear in public without a permit?”
“Sweet mother of mercy,” Niki whispers like a tire expiring air. “You could signal ships with that thing.”
Lorenzo beams proudly, an expression that turns his wrinkled face into something resembling a pleased prune. “I wasjust saying, only the best for my Loretta,” he says with a slight Italian accent. “She deserves the stars, so I gave her one to wear.”
“Actually, it’s a D color, internally flawless, twelve-carat—” Loretta begins as she beams with both pride and greed.
“You can’t be serious,” Cooper interrupts. “This is... you’re... he’s...”
“Collecting dust?” I supply helpfully.
“Older than dirt?” Niki adds.
“The reigning champion of the ‘I Survived the Plague’ contest?” Aunt Cat offers.
Cooper shoots us all a look that could freeze Hell in one blast. “You’re not helping.”
“I’ll have you know”—Lorenzo starts with surprising dignity for a man who probably needs help tying his shoes— “that I am very much in love with your sister. And she with me.”
“It’s true,” Loretta says, nestling against his side like a cat who just found a particularly comfortable sunbeam to lounge in. “In fact, we’re getting married next month.”
“Next month?” Cooper’s voice rises to a pitch that probably has dogs across town perking their ears to attention. “And you’ve known him how long?”
“Time is irrelevant when it comes to true love,” Loretta sniffs.
“And an impending appointment with death,” Niki mutters under her breath.
Before Cooper can respond—likely with something that would get us all banned from the state of Vermont—a bizarre figure waddles into our little circle.
It’s a small, elderly woman dressed entirely in black from head to toe, including a tall, strange-looking black veil that billows around her face like a personal storm cloud.
A child nearby takes one look at her and bursts into tears. A small dog being walked on a leash yips in terror and tries to bolt.In fact, every last soul at the festival seems to be shrieking back in terror while simultaneously making the sign of the cross.
The woman dressed like Death approaches our group with the speed and grace of a tranquilized turtle, then proceeds to hand each of us a black envelope before attempting to waddle away again.
Wait just one Italian grandma pickin’ minute…
“Nona Jo?” I call out after her because, for one, I happen to recognize her unique shambling gait. “I know it’s you! I can tell by your shuffle-step-pause-complain combo. And you’re the only person I know who sighs loudly after every third step!”
