Chapter 18

Thirty minutes later, Alene breathed in the café’s rhythms, the soft music, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The tables had turned over, but her dad still sat with Blanca, playing cribbage. Blanca always sat with her back straight as if she’d studied ballet as a child. She waved at Alene, who headed to their table. “I love being here,” said Cal, “but are you sure you’re all right, Leeni?” He’d been asking every ten minutes since Frank left. Alene worried that the outing had been too much for his first day out of the hospital, but he was smiling.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Alene said for the fourth time as she pulled up a chair, “but that was enough drama to last me for the rest of the summer.”

“It was drama like television,” Blanca said. “We enjoyed watching people.”

Cal shook his head, “I felt horrible for that woman.”

Blanca snapped back, “She sleeps with a married man, bad things happen.”

“I feel terrible for her too,” said Alene, “even though I don’t have a lot of pity for people who cheat on their partners.” She couldn’t help thinking back to when she learned that her ex-husband, Neal, was having an affair. Her phone vibrated, and it was Frank.

“I don’t know how we would have done without you,” she said.

“You’d have handled it,” said Frank. “No doubt about it.”

Alene still wanted to process everything that happened. “Were those really Sylvie’s earrings?”

“Yes, but Toula didn’t steal them,” Frank said. “Stanley gave them to her.” It was infuriating that Sylvie had been right. “Royce suspected the affair and followed her to Stanley’s office that night.”

Alene was grateful that Frank was willing to talk about it. “How did he force Toula to smother Stanley?” She asked. “I don’t get that.”

“He found Toula lying on top of Stanley, knocked the guy out and then physically held Toula down so that she was technically the one who blocked Stanley’s air,” Frank explained.

“That poor woman,” Alene said. She guessed that Toula had already removed some clothes, or she’d been wearing a polyester-type material that wouldn’t have been inhaled.

“She made some bad choices,” Frank said. “People don’t always consider consequences.”

“Yeah,” said Alene, remembering how Neal had asked her for an open marriage. That was the moment when she realized that the marriage was over. Consequences.

Frank asked what kind of pizza the children liked, what time he should show up, and what was their favorite ice cream. After she hung up and put her phone back in her pocket, Cal said, “It was an unusually interesting afternoon, but will Sylvie show up everywhere I go from now on?”

Alene said, “Let’s hope not.” She kissed his cheek just before Blanca led Cal out the door.

Alene and Ruthie baked for the rest of the afternoon. People must have spread the word about what had happened because they had more customers in the next hour than they had all week, and there were very few leftovers. Then they were alone, cleaning up and talking about how much they’d have to bake the next day. They joked about needing to stage some kind of drama now and then to spice up business.

Alene asked if Ruthie knew how Jocelyn’s meeting with Harrison had gone. “I hope she got some closure,” said Alene. “And I hope her life gets easier.”

Ruthie said, “I think after that, she’s always going to have challenges.”

“Aren’t we all?” Alene responded.

On her way home, Alene called her sister to tell her what had happened. Lydia calmly explained the legal possibilities. “It’s horrible that the woman might also be prosecuted for Stanley’s murder,” Lydia said, adding that she’d text Alene the phone number of an organization that fought for the rights of abused or battered women.

“But this is a completely different situation,” said Alene.

“Every situation is different, but she was still abused, and this organization might be able to help her,” said Lydia. “In fact, I’m planning to do some pro bono work for them.”

Alene said, “That’d be awesome, because word on the street is that you’re a superb lawyer.”

“Thanks, Alene,” Lydia said. “I don’t think you’ve ever said that to me.” Alene felt a little guilty about it, but at least she’d said it now. She invited Lydia and Theo to join them for pizza.

Frank arrived just after Lydia and Theo. He set three boxes of Lou Malnati’s on the counter, saying that he hadn’t wanted to disappoint the children, so he got each of their favorites; plain cheese for Noah, olives for Quinn, and the spinach stuffed “Lou” for Sierra. Alene had brought two sauces from the café: the first a Roasted Red Pepper Tahini and the second an Asparagus Pesto. They’d be delicious with the pizzas.

Cal was delighted to be home with both of his daughters and all three of his grandchildren. He sat at the dining room table smiling through the dinner and repeating variations of “I’m so lucky,” or “You can’t imagine how wonderful it is to look around this table and see your beautiful faces.” Alene felt the same way. Frank had moved his chair so that their legs touched. She wasn’t ready for the kids to see any public displays of affection, but touching legs seemed harmless.

She told the kids that Frank worked at the Chicago police department, and they all stared at him. “Do you have a gun?” Noah asked. “Like, are you wearing one right now?”

“Yes,” said Frank.” Noah’s mouth fell open.

Sierra asked, “Why aren’t you wearing a uniform?”

“Because I don’t have to,” Frank answered. Cal laughed at that.

Quinn said, “Do you give tickets to children who don’t follow bicycle safety rules?”

“Stupid question as usual,” Sierra muttered. Alene gave her a look.

“No, I don’t give tickets to children,” said Frank, “but I like to explain what the rules are to them, because the rules keep them safe, don’t you think?”

Quinn and Noah nodded, and Sierra shrugged. While Alene refrigerated the leftovers, Cal asked Frank about corruption in the department and Lydia asked about recent Tribune articles criticizing CPD.

Alene said, “Let’s give Frank a little break from talking about his work.” She was passing out the ice cream bowls when Quinn said, “I have a relevant story. My friend Sadie’s mother was having lunch today and the police came because some people eating there did something bad, but Sadie didn’t know exactly what, so they were probably bank robbers or something. And then, ...”

Predictably, Sierra, who didn’t have patience for Quinn’s winding stories, interrupted to say, “I heard about that too, and I don’t think they were bank robbers. Mom, you know my friend Camilla?” Alene nodded. This was a girl at camp whom Sierra had been talking about a lot. “So, she just texted me because their upstairs neighbor said the police raided the Whipped and Sipped Café.”

Alene nodded, “Yes, but—”

Quinn interrupted to finish her story. “And then my friend Sadie said that her mom was having coffee with a real estate lady because her mom is pregnant and they’re trying to move into a bigger place.” Here she stopped to look sadly at Alene, who’d told her unequivocally that there would not be another baby in the family.

“Yeah,” said Sierra, “Sadie’s mom was having coffee at Mom’s café.”

Now Noah piped up, “Mom, did something bad happen? Were there robbers?”

Alene, Frank, and Cal exchanged glances. Alene said, “Robbers? I don’t think they’d dare to come into the Whipped and Sipped Café. What do you think, Frank?”

“I think bad people shouldn’t be allowed into cafés,” said Frank.

Cal said, “but if there were no bad people, there would be no good lawyers.”

“That’s one of your best sayings, Dad,” said Lydia.

Alene said, “I thought you wrote it, Lydia.”

“No,” said Cal. “That was by Charles Dickens, an old friend of mine.”

Alene’s children all looked confused. “I think your friend is wrong, Grandpa,” Quinn said, “There could still be good lawyers for other things, but if there were no bad people, then we wouldn’t need policemen.” She smiled shyly at Frank.

“I’d be okay with that,” said Frank.