She’s My Queen

13. Cookie monster

13

COOKIE MONSTER

CRISTINA

M y mother is a short and curvaceous woman with thick dark hair and caramel-brown eyes. In her early sixties, she’s preserved her beauty by injecting fillers and covering her aging lines. We don’t often see eye to eye, and I’ve always been closer to my dad. He was the glue that kept our small family together, which means that since he passed, we’ve grown further apart.

We’re in the kitchen, and she’s pulling out pots and pans, readying to stress-bake, no doubt.

“Mom, please tell me what you know about this ordeal. It’s a matter of life and death now.”

“Everything having to do with your father is a matter of life and death.”

“Daddy isn’t here.” I wish she would stop blaming him for everything that’s happened to us since he passed away. At the same time, I can’t blame her for resenting him. He left her with nothing.

My mom and dad married late, and they had trouble conceiving a child, so when I came, I was celebrated as if I were a miracle. Perhaps I was, considering both my parents tested as infertile.

Needless to say, I grew up as Daddy’s little girl, and he gave me everything I asked for. Even a yacht named Miracle that’s docked in the resort’s private marina. The same one Daddy said we’d sail away on and live at sea for months at a time. I wish I knew how to captain the yacht. I’d sail far away tonight, escape all this.

My mom cleans the counter, then scoops out a fistful of flour. She throws it into the metal bowl and closes the cupboard. “I’m sorry for what I said about Gio. I’ve been so worried about you with that horrible man.” Severio, she means.

I’m itching to stress-bake myself. It’s a great therapy for us, but I need answers more. “Thank you. What’s really going on?”

She walks to the door and peeks out, checking on Corrado, who is still in my father’s office on the other side of the house. He’s perusing the ledger I found.

Once she’s behind the counter again, she prepares the other ingredients. “Your father and I were promised a spot as the Head of Gio’s Order.”

“Please don’t call it Gio’s Order in front of Corrado.”

She frowns. “We’ve always called it that.”

I cringe, hoping she won’t make that mistake in front of the Mancinis. I consider telling her about Gio, but keep quiet. She’ll find out soon enough, and if not, then she’s not privy to the information. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

“Did you know Gio would try to off Severio?”

“Hush.”

Holy shitcakes. I lean over the island. “Mother,” I hiss. “I don’t think you realize the kind of trouble we’re in.”

She hisses back, “Silly girl. I’ve known trouble since I married your father.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

Perhaps I know nothing about their marriage after all. They seemed happy, but I guess parents can fake happiness for the kids and then separate and hate each other after the kids are all grown. Maybe that’s what’s happening with my mother now. I know she’s bitter about him dying and leaving her penniless.

“What are you not telling me?”

She points in the direction of Corrado. “I’m not telling you that the moment that vile man you brought into our house gets what he wants, he’ll end us. I should’ve left with Gio when I had the chance.”

This is why Severio asked if my mother left with Gio. I have no idea how Severio would know, but he knows many things I don’t. I’m sick of not knowing.

“Corrado swore he wouldn’t hurt you.”

She mixes the dough. A tear slides down her cheek, and she wipes it on her shoulder. “You believe him?”

“We have no choice but to believe him. You must’ve known he wanted the green book and that he’d come for it since you tried to hide it from him. What’s in that book?” I’ve only ever seen my father write in it and store it in a slot under his desk. His friend Frenchy knew.

“This isn’t how we planned it. Your father should be here.” She’s wiping more tears, leaving flour all over her face. My mom’s a mess. A year later, and she still can’t forgive my dad for dying.

“How did you plan it?”

She lifts her tearstained eyes. “Your father and Gio were going to take over by garnering votes. The Order has a process for the Mancini family, and whichever Mancini holds the most power is considered the Head of the Order. With our combined wealth, the founding family members, and Gio’s political ties, Severio would’ve ceded his power.”

“I get the impression Severio would rather die than give up the Order.”

She shrugs. “Gio said that with the right amount of pressure, Severio would step down.”

“Gio lied, Mom. He lied and deceived us, and now Daddy is dead. You’re sad, and I’m…” I don’t know what I am.

Corrado strides into our kitchen as if he owns it. He throws Daddy’s green book on the counter, plops down next to me, and holds up a green pen. “They even made little green pens they would have given my members in order to sign over their wealth.” Corrado slides the pen into his pocket. “Your father was going to become the green serpent. It’s all in the book. Most of it, that is. I just need a few more things, and then we’ll get along supremely.” He watches my mom. “You know what I need.”

My mother throws the molded dough on the tray and sprinkles flour on it, then shoves the bread into the oven. “Gio’s location. I don’t have it. I swear.”

“I don’t need that,” Corrado says.

My mother looks puzzled. It must be my expression that gives it away, because she claps a hand over her mouth.

“Mom, Gio’s fine. It’s not what you think. He seems to have disappeared, is all.” As I comfort her, I wonder why she’s more devastated about Gio than she ever was about my dad’s death. I shouldn’t be thinking like that about my mom, but I can’t help it when I see her this way.

“He’s okay, I promise. Right, Corrado?”

“As far as I know, Gio’s fantastic.”

I offer my mom a cup of coffee, and she takes it.

Corrado inhales deeply. “Homemade cookies.”

“I’ll pack you some before you leave,” I say.

Absentmindedly, he rubs the leather-bound book. “Here’s what’ll happen. The Capone family remains in the Order. You’ll be taken care of for as long as you earn your keep and prove your loyalty. The last one will be hard, but your family isn’t the first and won’t be the last who tries to topple us.”

I refrain from pointing out that neither my mom nor I had much say in matters of the Order, but Corrado regards us collectively as the Capone family, which means we sided with Gio. Who did what is inconsequential. “What do you need from me?”

“Mrs. Capone,” Corrado says. “Tell your daughter what the Order needs from you.”

“They’ve granted us mercy. The price of admission into the Order is power. Always power. Gio can’t govern the island if he’s not here, so we must replace him.”

“Replace him gently,” Corrado says. “So as not to disturb the stability here or our dealings with our friends in Sicily and Germany.”

“Who are these friends?” I ask.

Mother and Corrado give me a knowing look.

Ah. Mobsters. This conversation moved beyond what I understand of family and politics, but my mother seems comfortable, if not in her element.

She smiles as she washes her hands. “You never intended to hurt me,” she says. “You came here knowing where the stupid book was and you just needed me to fold before your eyes so that I’d know you are the Head and I’m just another of your members.”

“Sometimes people need cruel reminders.”

“I’ll do it,” she says.

“Do what?” I ask.

“Become the next prime minister.”

My jaw slackens. Dramatically, I use my hand to close it. “You? A prime minister?”

“Why, yes, Cristina. Me. Unless you want the job.”

“No, thank you, but why does it have to be either of us?”

They’re giving me “the look” again. I’m out of my depth here. “Let me guess. The Order needs the Capone family’s ties to hold on to the power.”

“And Gio Mancini. You’re the Capone-Mancini bridge,” Corrado says.

His phone buzzes, and an image of a golden serpent slithers over the screen.

My mother and I exchange looks just as Corrado picks up. “Paulina, I need a minute.” He pauses. “Everything is fine. I’ll call you right back.” He hangs up. “My sister,” he says by way of explanation. “They’ve landed.”

“That’s a relief.” I’m happy to hear his family is safe. Nobody wants a repeat of brunch.

“Are you staying?” my mother asks Corrado with as much enthusiasm as she can muster.

Corrado shakes his head. “I’ll join them shortly.” He checks the watch. “How long for the cookies?”

I smile. He’s such a guy, impatiently waiting for homemade goodies.

My mom checks the oven and pulls out the tray. They could’ve used a few more minutes, but it’s probably okay.

“Do you want coffee?” I ask.

Corrado shakes his head, and my mom offers him a cookie. He tastes it and moans.

“Did you watch her prepare and bake the whole time?” he asks.

“Yes, why?”

“Reasons. Can I have another?”

“Take the entire tray,” I say, just to get him out of our house and hopefully out of our lives. While I’m aware we’re in the Order till death do us part or until they get rid of us, the Mancini family’s visits to my island are rare. It’s reasonable to presume that once they leave, they’ll conduct Order business via video conferencing and phone calls.

I arrange the cookies in a carry-out box, and Corrado exits the house, taking the green book with him.

“Good riddance,” my mother says from behind me.

Amen.