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Chrissy held Saks’ hand as they entered the newsstand where Uncle Vits did business. Tobacco and newsprint hung thick in the air and caused her nose to wrinkle. Racks of magazines filled one short wall while glass counters were filled with boxes of cigars, and cigarettes hung like puzzle boxes on the back wall.
It was a small place on Main Street, Westfield, with barely enough room for several people on the floor. But long association with the Serafini told her that this was not where the action happened.
“Hi, Dave,” Saks greeted the man behind the counter, who was busy ripping mastheads from old papers. “I’m here to see Uncle Vits.”
The man’s eyes narrowed on Chrissy. “Who’s that?”
“My fiancée.”
“Congrats. Let me check,” Dave said. He picked up the handset for an old landline phone.
“Anthony is here to see you. Yeah, that Anthony.” He hung up the phone. “Okay, you can go back.”
“Thanks, Dave.”
A buzzer sounded, and a door in the paneling at the end of the shop opened.
“Come on,” Saks told her as he pulled the door open. The room they entered was large, and filled with tables lined with old-fashioned landline phones. All of that space and all of those tools, though, and it was devoid of anyone at all.
“These days people place their bets from their cell phones,” Saks explained, “Vits’ boys work from wherever and deliver their bets to a secure server.”
“Wow,” Chrissy said. “Nice to know that work-from-home options exist for wise guys.”
Saks scoffed. “Be nice to my uncle.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll show him respect. I know the drill.”
Saks wrapped his arm around hers. “I know you do.”
Chrissy leaned into him and put her head on his arm for a second. She didn’t want to admit that she was nervous, but her stomach churned uncomfortably. From what Saks said Vits was against their marriage, even though he was the one who’d initiated their meeting.
At the end of the room, a young man stood at another door.
“Sal,” Saks said with a nod.
“Anthony,” the man replied. “He’s waiting.”
“Thanks.”
Sal knocked on the door and then opened it.
Vittorio Rocco sat behind a beat-up wooden desk, looking over a ledger book. Another man stood over his shoulder. Vits looked up and handed the book to the man.
“Later,” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Rocco.” The man passed by them to leave the office and Vits sat back in his chair, looking over both of them.
“So, Anthony, why are you here? And why is the Serafini girl with you?” His eyes narrowed in disapproval.
Chrissy resisted the urge to pop off at the head of Anthony’s family. She cared more about her own family’s reaction, but when she and Saks married Vits would be part of that. And that seemed strange to her. All these years, Vits was the enemy. Now, she might have to spend holidays with him.
“You were right all along, Uncle Vits.”
“I was,” Vits asked with suspicion.
“Yes. Chrissy is the right woman for me. We’re getting married.”
“What!” A vein on the man’s forehead looked ready to pop.
“You can stop being indignant about it,” Saks scolded. “I made up my mind. And if the family doesn’t get behind this, Chrissy and I are perfectly willing to move away.”
“You would, eh?” Vits challenged, his voice all gravel and grit.
Saks said nothing, but locked his eyes with Vits. Chrissy held onto Saks' arm as the two men continued their stare-down. Chrissy wondered how long this would go on as the tension in the room climbed. She squeezed Saks’ arm, but he didn’t react. He just kept staring at his uncle. Finally, Vits looked away.
“Well,” he said. “I’m not the one that you have to convince.”
“No?” Saks said, arching his brow.
“It’s that one’s grandfather.”
“That’s Chrissy. She’s going to be my wife, and I’ll thank you to refer to her by her first name.”
Vits nodded his head and drew his lips into a tight line. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “So, you love this girl?”
“Vits,” Saks warned.
“Of course, you do. You wouldn’t come to me like this if you didn’t. Well, congratulations.”
“We want you to know, but that’s not why we’re here.”
“Oh?”
“Chrissy’s father is in the hospital.”
“Yeah, I'm aware.”
“But also, Pandolfo Serafini has left the state. We aren’t sure where he is.”
“And?”
“There’s no one to mind the store,” Chrissy explained.
“That seems like a Serafini problem.”
“It’s your problem, too, because trouble within the Serafini ranks will spread out to the Roccos, too.”
“And now,” Chrissy went on, “since we’re to be family, I’d like to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Vits spread his hands. “What do you want from me?”
“You have a first-class medic on staff,” Saks said. “We’d like him to care for Chrissy’s father for a couple of days to monitor his condition. That way we can show him as back in charge, and make sure he recovers well from his surgery.”
“And you’d trust me to send this man to help.”
“Uncle Vits. It annoys my father I don’t work in the family business, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. He’s glad I’m not. Upset me and you’ll lose your most trusted advisor, and you’ll also lose your place at our dinner table.”
“That is a low blow, Anthony, threatening to withhold your mother’s food.”
“It won’t be my father pressing for it. My mother will let no one get in the way of my happiness, even if her last name used to be Rocco.”
A sigh escaped Vits’ lips as he looked to Chrissy. “You look like your grandmother. She was a beautiful woman. And a spitfire. No one was going to get in her way. You take after her, yes?”
Saks put his arm tightly around her.
“Some people have said so,” Chrissy replied with a curl of her lips.
Vits cleared some phlegm from his throat and turned his gaze to Saks. “I see you thought this out. And you could do worse than marrying this young woman.” He smiled warmly at Saks. “You always were intelligent, probably too smart to hang out with a bunch of old goombahs.” He waved his hand. “Congratulations, you two. I wish you the best.”
“And you’ll help as I asked?” Saks asked.
“Yes. Yes. You call when Serafini is on his way home. I’ll get my guy over there.”
“Thank you, Uncle Vits.”
“And one last thing. Did you get her a ring?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, I said I would get you one.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and fumbled around. Finally, he pulled out a blue velvet box.
“It’s not brand-new, but never worn.”
Chrissy stared at the box.
“Go ahead, young lady. This isn’t what I would have gotten for you, but seeing how you are so much like your grandmother, I think it’s right.”
She looked at Saks, and he shrugged.
Chrissy picked it up off the desk and opened it.
She stood stunned as she gazed at the contents of the box. It was gorgeous.
The round-cut center stone set in platinum had to be at least a carat, and the round diamonds at either side a quarter carat each. They had to be the brightest diamonds she’d ever seen. “Oh, Mr. Rocco, this is too much.”
“No, Ms. Serafini. I think this is very right.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. She barely remembered her grandmother, because she died when Chrissy was young. But this kind of ring bought on the hope of a promise not yet made by a young man meant only one thing.
He’d loved her very much.
A tear trickled down her cheek when she thought about how Vittorio Rocco lost the woman he loved and lived without her all those years. Swallowing hard she looked up at Saks, and promised herself that would never happen to him.
“I’ll treasure it always.”
“Well,” Vits said roughly, “do with it what you want. Sell it, get what you want.”
“No, Uncle Vits,” Chrissy whispered. “It’s perfect.”
He waved them off, as if he couldn’t take the sappy moment. “Get out of here. I have business to do.”
Saks wrapped his arm around her protectively as they walked out of the back room and then the shop. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and smiled at her.
“Damn, you’re good,” he said with a half chuckle. “If we stayed a half-minute more we’d have seen him cry.”
“You’re awful,” Chrissy admonished. “But you might be right.”
“That’s one down. Let’s go see your father.
