My cell phone sang “Shut Up and Drive.”
“That’s Pete,” I said to Nico. “Do you mind?”
He smiled and shook his head.
Pete said, “Just had a strange invitation. Your uncle Vince wants to meet me for lunch. Should I be worried?”
I gulped and said, “Just a sec.” Then I signaled to Nico. “Vince wants to meet Pete for lunch,” I said in a low voice.
Nico frowned. “It could be something totally innocent, Gina.”
“You think?” I said. The words Vince and innocent didn’t work well in the same sentence.
“Most likely he’s going to give Pete the ‘welcome to the family’ speech. You know the one. ‘You hurt our Gina, and I’ll break both your legs.’ ”
“That’s more like it,” I said, turning back to the phone.
“I heard that,” said Pete.
“So not a bad thing,” I said, hoping it wasn’t. “Don’t skip this. You really have to meet him, Pete.”
“I’m going to,” Pete said. I could hear the obvious amusement in his voice. “We’re meeting at La Paloma tomorrow. Sort of interested to see who else will be there.”
“You be careful, Pete,” I warned.
“I can take care of myself, babe.” His voice was low and sultry.
Man, did I love this guy.
I rang off.
“What now?” said Nico.
“I suppose we should go rescue my car.”
***
It was sitting there just where I had left it, waiting for me. What a relief.
Today was Wednesday, and we had wedding errands to do. We dropped Nico’s car back at the store, because I insisted on driving. It was easier on my stress levels.
“What first?” I asked.
“Let’s see. We need to double-check flowers, linens, the cake—”
Before Nico could finish, a phone chirped. Mine doesn’t do that, so I wasn’t surprised to see Nico reach for the phone on his belt.
“It’s Mad Magda,” he said, looking at the screen. His voice held a question. I looked over with interest.
“You’re kidding,” I said. Mad Magda is one of the more colorful members of our family. She is also one of the oldest. She and her geriatric lover, Jimmy the Cat, helped me out with a little job recently. Yes, I know I said that as a rule I avoid the family businesses. It’s complicated.
Nico gasped. “Oh no. How awful. Of course we’ll come right away. Yes. Yes. On our way.” He clicked off, and his black-rimmed eyes were wide. “Jimmy’s had a heart attack. We need to go there immediately. She needs help.”
“Yikes! Of course,” I said as we tromped over to my car. “So the retirement home? Or should we go directly to the hospital?”
“No,” said Nico. “They were on an outing. It’s a little out of the way.” He gave me directions.
I pulled into the right lane to turn. “I hope she called 9-1-1 first,” I said.
“She’s calling it now,” said Nico.
Weird, I thought. Why would she phone Nico before calling 9-1-1?
Ten minutes later, we were still driving.
“Are you sure she said past Caledonia?”
Nico nodded. “I know the route.”
“What route? Route to where?”
“The truck route,” said Nico.
“Huh?” This didn’t seem like a normal seniors’ outing. And besides, neither Jimmy nor Magda had a car. They didn’t drive anymore. So what the heck was going on?
He seemed a bit fidgety. “I didn’t want to tell you, Gina. I know you don’t like to hear about…um…family business.”
I groaned. “Oh no. Do not tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“Except I think you might have to this time. There’s the truck. Pull up there, behind the ambulance.” Nico pointed with a thin finger.
I parked, and Nico was out of the car before I could open my door.
Jimmy was already on a stretcher. I rushed over in time to see paramedics lift the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. His eyes were closed, and his face was contorted in pain.
Magda came up to us right away.
“Thank God you’re here, Nico. And Gina.” She clutched Nico’s arm. Magda looked so worried, I wanted to hug her. “I have to go with Jimmy. Here are the keys to the truck. Can you…?”
“Of course,” said Nico, taking the keys. “You go with Jimmy. Do they think he’ll be okay?”
“Don’t know yet,” said Magda. She climbed into the back of the ambulance with surprising agility for a gal over seventy-five. “I’ll phone.”
Within seconds the ambulance had pulled away. We both stared at it careering down the road with lights and siren on.
I pulled my red coat tighter around me. It was getting chillier out. Or maybe that was the feeling in my chest.
“He was driving the truck when the heart attack came on,” said Nico. “Magda managed to work the brake, or there could have been a horrible accident.”
I shivered. How horrible. Poor Magda. And poor Jimmy!
“So what do we do now?” I said. “Call someone to get the truck?”
“Er…no,” said Nico. “I said we’d take care of it.”
“You WHAT?” I looked over at the thing. It was a midsized transport with ten wheels, not a freaking pickup truck.
“It was the least I could do, considering the state Jimmy was in, Gina. Magda can’t drive anymore. They took away her license, remember? And she should be with Jimmy anyways.”
That was true. They had been together for years. Actually, decades. It was hard to imagine one without the other.
I banished the thought from my mind.
But that left another problem. I frowned at the truck. This wasn’t a good idea. Trucks move merchandise. That’s their purpose. This was a family truck, so it stood to reason that the merchandise might be a little warm. Okay, sizzling.
Did I want to be seen escorting a truck full of hot merchandise? I did not.
“Nico, do you really need me for this? Remember, I am allergic to anything illegal.” It’s true. I would look terrible in an orange jumpsuit.
“Please, Gina. I promised her. There’s no one else I can think of to call. Mario and Luca are busy with…well, never mind that. And we can’t leave it here.”
He had a point. We couldn’t leave it here at the side of the road. It was sort of obvious. Any minute the police might drive by and notice it. Yes, I try to avoid being involved in family business. But cop business is worse.
Cops usually don’t bother a truck sailing down the road, doing its own thing.
The sooner we got this over with, the better.
I relented. “Okay. So we take the truck back to wherever it came from.”
“We’re nearly to the drop-off point. Better to take it there. But there is a minor issue.”
I stiffened. When Nico says “minor issue,” I brace for the worst.