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Synopsis
Christmas in Tranquility, New Jersey, means togetherness for the Italian-American Ferrara family—and an unexpected reunion for Alberta Scaglione. But someone has murder on their holiday wish list . . .
Alberta is delighted that her estranged daughter has arrived in Tranquility, even if Lisa Marie has an ulterior motive. Her son, Alberta’s twenty-one-year-old grandson, Sergio, hasn’t been heard from in six months, shortly after taking up with a woman named Natalie. Maybe Alberta and her crime- reporting partner-in-sleuthing granddaughter, Jinx, can track him down before Christmas?
After some fruitless searching, the Ferraras take a break to attend the Mistletoe Ball, a fundraiser for the local hospital. But the night takes a chilling turn when a snowman decoration splits open, revealing a body. Lisa Marie screams that it’s Natalie—and screams again when she sees a man emerge from behind some Christmas trees. The good news is they’ve found Sergio. The bad news: he’s a prime suspect for murder.
It seems Sergio’s former squeeze had some shady secrets. And with more than one family member’s future at stake, Alberta and Lisa Marie will have to put their past behind them and work together, or it’ll be a blue, blue Christmas . . .
Includes Italian recipes from Alberta’s kitchen!
“Imagine the Golden Girls starting a detective agency and you’ll get the general idea of J.D. Griffo’s charming Ferrara Family mystery series.”
—Criminal Element
Release date: October 26, 2021
Publisher: Kensington Books
Print pages: 304
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Murder at the Mistletoe Ball
J.D. Griffo
It felt like the North Pole.
Alberta was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs in her backyard, facing Memory Lake, the quilt her mother made for her sister Helen when she left home to enter the convent wrapped around her. The design was an elaborate display of squares, triangles, and circles in a rainbow of colors and patterns, with an underside that was lined in light blue fleece. Elena Ferrara had stitched in a photo of the Blessed Mother, along with the words to the Hail Mary, so Helen would always feel connected to her religion. At some point over the years, the hand-made heirloom came into Alberta’s possession. Her mother must have known she would need its comfort one day.
Elena knew that neither of her daughters needed a reminder to embrace their spirituality, but part of a mother’s job was acting as a rete di sicurezza, a safety net, in case her child faltered. It was what Alberta was being asked to do now for her own daughter. Maybe it was because she had spent the past several years reinventing herself—becoming self-reliant, becoming someone’s girlfriend, reintroducing herself to Jinx as her grandmother—but for whatever the reason, Alberta was suddenly having difficulty imagining herself in the role she’d played almost her entire adult life—that of the mother.
Half asleep, Lola squirmed in her lap, and Alberta rubbed the cat’s soft black fur reassuringly. She looked at the card that she held in her other hand and wondered if it was a coincidence that the blue hydrangeas on the cover were the same as the ones that flourished in her backyard each spring, or if Lisa Marie intuitively knew that fact. Perhaps Jinx had mentioned it to her when she was describing Alberta’s house to her mother and Lisa Marie thought it would personalize her plea for help.
“Ah Madon.” Alberta sighed, shaking her head at her own stupidity. She knew her daughter had picked the card at random and didn’t give any thought as to what was on the cover. Lisa Marie could not be described as sentimental.
Similarly, Alberta had not been old-world maternal. She loved her children unconditionally, but as a realist, Alberta recognized their flaws and weaknesses and didn’t sugarcoat them with the delusion that her offspring were perfect. Just as she knew exactly who she was, Alberta knew exactly who her children were. And as painful as it was to admit it, both Lisa Marie and her younger brother, Rocco, took after their father.
After thirty-two hours of agonizing labor, Alberta finally gave birth to her daughter. Alberta was so exhausted and relieved to be on the other side of her first pregnancy that it took her a few moments to realize that her child hadn’t yet made a sound. No wailing cries filled the delivery room, only silence.
Exhausted and drenched in sweat, Alberta searched for clues in the faces of the doctor and the nurses. Why wasn’t her child screaming? Why wasn’t the room bustling with activity? Weren’t they supposed to be placing her baby in her arms?
Immediately, Alberta feared the worst and believed her child was stillborn. The child she carried for nine months, the child she had just pushed into the world would not be her child after all. Not in the real sense, not in the sense that mattered. Despair was only demolished when a loud scream erupted that filled the room with glorious sound. Lisa Marie was alive and well but had decided to take her time in announcing her arrival.
Her cries continued after the nurse placed her in Alberta’s arms and didn’t stop until twenty minutes later, when Sammy, fed up with listening to his daughter screaming, took Lisa Marie from Alberta’s arms and was about to give his child to the nurse with the instructions “to do something to make it stop” when silence once again filled the room. Cradled in her father’s arms, Lisa Marie stopped crying and within a few seconds was sleeping. Sammy was filled with pride, but Alberta felt betrayed. Lisa Marie was clearly her father’s daughter.
Sammy Scaglione wasn’t a bad father, not by any means, but he wasn’t the best role model either. He had been dismissive, a bit of a drinker, and demeaning. But the worst of Sammy’s traits that Lisa Marie inherited was his ability to lie with ease.
The first lie Alberta caught Lisa Marie telling occurred when her daughter was four years old. Alberta was home with the two kids and was suffering from a stomach flu. She placed Rocco, who was not yet a year old, on her bed and surrounded him with pillows as he took his nap so he wouldn’t roll off while Alberta was in the bathroom. Earlier, Lisa Marie had been jumping on the bed, but Alberta yelled at her to stop because she might wake up Rocco or, worse, hurt him if she fell. Of course, while Alberta was out of the room, she heard a thump, and when she raced back into the bedroom, she saw Rocco was on the floor and Lisa Marie was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching television.
When Alberta admonished her daughter for disobeying her, Lisa Marie had looked away from the TV screen and directly into her mother’s eyes. She didn’t blink. Instead, she expertly and effortlessly lied to cover up her role in her brother’s accident.
“I wasn’t jumping,” she had said. “Rocco rolled over and fell on the floor. I didn’t pick him up because I heard you coming and didn’t want to hurt him.”
Alberta felt as if an unknown force was poking a finger in her back, telling her to watch out for this one. And, indeed, she had.
Over the years the lies had continued, and Alberta remembered an incident when Lisa Marie was eight years old. She sent her daughter to the corner grocery store to buy bread and milk as a way for Lisa Marie to gain independence and learn how to make her way in the world. When she returned, Alberta found candy in the pocket of her jacket.
“Lisa, did you buy candy at the store?” Alberta had asked.
When Lisa Marie turned to look at her mother, it was with the same calm, irreproachable expression that had become her trademark.
“No,” she replied. “Mr. Terranova gave it to me for being such a good girl, doing the shopping for my mother.”
The next day, when Alberta was picking up some tomatoes and fresh basil, she thanked Mr. Terranova for being so kind to her daughter but asked him to please not make it a habit to give her candy because she had two cavities at her last dental visit. Mr. Terranova explained that he thought Lisa Marie was well-behaved, but he didn’t give her candy as a reward. Alberta put an extra dollar in the March of Dimes collection can before she left.
One of Lisa Marie’s more audacious lies took place while she was a junior at Immaculate Conception High School. At sixteen, Lisa Marie was not yet a woman, but she felt that if she didn’t raise the hem of her school skirt as high as the Catholic church would allow, she would forever remain a child. Alberta vehemently disagreed and thought her daughter’s skirt hem was perfect skimming her knee. Lisa Marie, on the other hand, felt that if her mother wouldn’t allow her to change the length of her skirt, she’d change schools.
Unbeknownst to her parents, Lisa Marie made an appointment with the new principal of Hoboken High School. She explained that her family had just moved to New Jersey from Sicily and because her parents didn’t speak any English, she had come to enroll herself in the school. If it wasn’t for Rafaella DeFilippo, the principal’s secretary and, luckily, Alberta’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s wife, Lisa Marie would’ve been Hoboken High’s newest student.
Resigned, Alberta gave Lisa Marie an impromptu sewing lesson, and she went to Immaculate Conception the next day with her skirt two inches higher. She showed more leg to her envious classmates, but she showed her mother her true colors. Alberta could no longer dismiss Lisa Marie’s lies as a phase or a natural part of childhood; she was forced to admit that her daughter was deceitful. She wasn’t beyond saving—hardly—but from her vantage point, Alberta saw more bad than good in her daughter.
What made matters worse was that Sammy thought his little girl was an angel. No matter what Alberta and Lisa Marie were arguing about, whether it was unfinished homework or an unfulfilled promise, Sammy always took his daughter’s side. She could do no wrong in his eyes and he felt Alberta was too strict, too old-fashioned, and the one who needed to bend. It created a rift in the family and brought out a not-so-pretty side of Alberta.
Sammy’s comments directly confronted every one of Alberta’s insecurities. His words reinforced her belief that she wasn’t a good mother, that peace and happiness weren’t attainable, that life was meant to be endured, not celebrated. She hated how strong the bond was between Sammy and Lisa Marie and, as a result, she hated herself for harboring such a hateful thought. A father and daughter should be close, but not at the sacrifice of the mother. Their relationship was built on the fact that they both disregarded Alberta, they both categorized her as the villain in the family. For a time, Alberta was more than willing to play that role.
Lisa Marie had rejected Alberta’s maternal instincts, so Alberta tried other tactics to communicate with her daughter. She was sarcastic when she should have been compassionate, dismissive when she should have been interested, short-fused instead of patient. It was a poor strategy and only succeeded in pushing Alberta and Lisa Marie further away from each other.
Things got worse in Lisa Marie’s senior year of high school, when she announced she wasn’t going to college but was going to marry Tommy Maldonado. Both Alberta and Sammy were surprised by the announcement because they didn’t think she and Tommy were that close, but after the shock of finding out that wedding bells would quickly follow the pomp and circumstance of graduation, Sammy accepted the idea. Tommy came from a good family, he had never been in trouble with the police, and he was going to be an electrician, which was a secure job that would allow him to provide for Lisa Marie. As far as Sammy was concerned, that was all a man had to do. Alberta, however, thought there was much more for a woman to do.
Alberta wanted her daughter to have the opportunities and options she never had. She instinctively knew that if Lisa Marie married Tommy, her daughter would have the same life that she had with Sammy. And she wanted so much more for her child.
“Why do you have to rush into marriage?” Alberta had asked. “You’re not even out of high school.”
“You got married right after high school,” Lisa Marie replied.
“Not right after,” Alberta corrected. “I worked at the Kleinfeld Insurance Agency.”
“For like a month.”
“Six months.”
“And you said you hated every second of it. Look, Ma, just because you’re unhappy in your marriage doesn’t mean I’m going to be unhappy in mine.”
“I’m not unhappy!”
“Bull! I don’t know why you just don’t divorce Daddy.”
“Dio mio! Because when you get married it’s for life, those are the vows you take.”
“Trust me, Ma, the Catholic church isn’t gonna crumble to the ground if you and Daddy call it quits. The Pope’s not gonna lose any sleep over one more failed marriage.”
“Our marriage isn’t a failure!”
“It’s a joke! I don’t know if you ever loved each other, but you sure don’t love each other now.”
“Basta!” Alberta cried. “Watch your mouth when you talk to me!”
Lisa Marie stared right into her mother’s eyes and smirked. “You might want to take your own advice.”
Even though Lisa Marie had made her intention to marry Tommy the following spring imminently clear and even wore his engagement ring—which Alberta told Helen was only visible if it was viewed underneath a magnifying glass—Alberta hadn’t given up hope that her daughter might choose an alternative path after she graduated from high school. With all good intentions but without her daughter’s knowledge, Alberta applied to several colleges on Lisa Marie’s behalf. When her daughter found out what she did, Alberta didn’t receive Lisa Marie’s blessing.
“You did what?” Lisa Marie screamed.
“I applied to a few schools for you, that’s all,” Alberta explained. “You make it sound as if I went behind your back.”
“That’s exactly what you did, Ma! I told you, I’m not going to college.”
“But you got into Rutgers and Montclair State.”
“No, I didn’t, you did! Because you forged my name on the application!”
“And I wrote you a very good essay too, don’t forget that.”
“Trust me, Ma, I’m never going to forget that!”
Lisa Marie leafed through the papers that had come in the mail from Montclair State College. The acceptance letter, the course brochure, the financial aid packet. She stopped when she got to a copy of the essay that bore her name but not her thoughts.
“ ‘The main reason I want to attend Montclair State is because of my mother,’” Lisa Marie said. With every word that she recited, she mocked Alberta. It was evident that the essay had nothing to do with Lisa Marie’s desire for a higher education and everything to do with Alberta’s desperation for her daughter to have the kind of life Alberta never could.
“ ‘She’s instilled in me a sense of purpose and conviction so I could achieve more than she ever could. It’s only because of her that I have the courage to reach my dreams. ’ ”
When Lisa Marie was finished, she threw the papers in her mother’s face. Both women were furious. Lisa Marie because she felt her mother had betrayed her and Alberta because she felt her daughter was betraying herself.
“This isn’t my dream, Ma, it’s yours!” Lisa Marie yelled. “You want me to live the life you didn’t have the guts to live!”
“What’s wrong with a parent wanting their child to have a better life?”
“Nothing! But you don’t get to decide what I do with my life!”
“I’m not trying to do that! I’m trying to show you that you can do things other than get married and have children.”
“Stop lying, Ma! We both know that you resent being a wife and mother and you wish to God every single day of your life that you had done something else with your life!”
Alberta wanted to disagree with her daughter, but she couldn’t. They both knew that Lisa Marie was right.
After that incident, it was obvious by the way he acted that Sammy noticed the rift between his wife and daughter had deepened, but neither one told him the source of the tension. Alberta didn’t confess because she was ashamed, and she assumed Lisa Marie kept quiet to use that piece of information against her at a future date. It was a thought that filled Alberta with even more shame.
Sitting underneath the quilt, Alberta shivered. November had been a colder-than-usual month and, according to the Farmers’ Almanac, which Alberta still trusted more than the local weatherman, winter was going to come early. It prompted another memory, this one of the last Christmas before Lisa Marie got married.
As had become the norm, a harmless exchange of words turned into an argument. Lisa Marie and Alberta were decorating their tree, the same store-bought tree they’d been decorating since Lisa Marie was a toddler. That year, Lisa Marie only wanted to use silver and white decorations. She had seen the window display of a department store in New York and wanted to replicate the chic, elegant look in their own home. Alberta thought it sounded pretty but pointed out that if they adopted that color scheme, they wouldn’t be able to use the gold star topper that Alberta’s grandmother gave her for the first Christmas she was married.
“So what?” Lisa Marie replied. “The woman’s dead, just like your marriage to Daddy.”
Alberta looked into Lisa Marie’s eyes, searching for regret, remorse, even hatred, but couldn’t find anything. Her daughter believed what she said and didn’t think there was anything wrong in saying it. She didn’t consider what the words would mean to her mother; she didn’t consider her mother at all.
Sammy was surprised that the tree that year was trimmed with only silver and white decorations, but he said he liked it better and didn’t notice they also used a different topper. It was a white angel in a thick silver robe that Tommy had given to Lisa Marie. Alberta lied and said she thought it was very pretty. Lisa Marie lied and said she was sad it was going to be the last Christmas she’d celebrate at home. Sammy lied and said he was going to miss the constant bickering that would end after Lisa Marie left the house.
“La casa che giace costruita,” Alberta had muttered to herself.
She held Lola up to her face and rubbed her cheek on her smooth fur.
“A house of lies,” Alberta said. “That’s what it was, Lola.”
Another shiver gripped her spine. She wasn’t cold; she was scared because she knew that some of those lies were on their way home.
Alberta knew she was in trouble when she saw two wise women enter her backyard bearing gifts. Helen and Joyce stood in front of Alberta, holding bags from the Tranquility Diner, and despite the emotional strain she was under, Alberta smiled because the women only traveled together when they had a mission, and they only brought food when they thought Alberta was too upset to cook. It lifted her spirits to see that the two women had joined forces on her behalf. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence.
Alberta’s sister and sister-in-law had grown much closer these past few years. Every once in a while, the friction that had outlined their relationship would bubble to the surface, but mainly the two women had learned to embrace their differences. And there were many.
As a former nun, Helen had taken a vow of poverty, while Joyce, a retired Wall Street investment banker, had made a fortune. Helen’s wardrobe consisted primarily of calf-length dresses in various shades of gray like her hair, black shoes with sensible heels, and her black pocketbook, which she was never without, while Joyce’s wardrobe took up a guest room in her house and contained designer couture from the last seven decades. Helen was diminutive, pale, and blunt, whereas Joyce was full-figured, African American, and polite. They were an odd pairing, but time and a little understanding on both their parts had brought them closer together. Their love for Alberta brought them to her backyard.
“What are you doing here so early?” Alberta asked, looking at her watch. “Dio mio! It’s barely seven o’clock.”
“You’ve been up all night, haven’t you?” Helen asked.
“Maybe,” Alberta replied.
“And you didn’t have any dinner or breakfast,” Joyce said.
“Maybe,” Alberta repeated.
“I know you’ve been thrown a curve, Berta,” Helen said. “But you still have to eat.”
“What did you bring?” Alberta asked.
“French toast, sausage, a side of hash browns, a stack of silver dollar pancakes, and fresh blueberry croissants,” Helen replied.
“Also too, Kwon may be from Korea, but he makes the most delicious Greek omelets,” Joyce added. “Feta cheese and kalamata olives, it’s my new favorite.”
“I am a little hungry. I guess I could nibble,” Alberta said. “But who’s Kwon?”
“Kwon Lee, the new owner and chef of the Tranquility Diner,” Joyce replied.
“Right, sorry,” Alberta said. “My mind is elsewhere.”
“Could we get elsewhere before the food gets cold?” Helen asked.
“Go inside, the door’s unlocked,” Alberta said, rising from her chair.
As Helen passed by Alberta, she said, “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re snuggled underneath my quilt.”
“Possession is nine tenths of the law, Helen,” Alberta remarked.
“It’s on loan, Berta!” Helen cried.
Once inside, Joyce and Helen hung up their coats on the hooks next to the door. Joyce’s burnt orange cape in bright contrast to Helen’s black parka. They transferred the contents of the bags to plates, and Helen poured them all coffee from the pot that was being kept warm in Alberta’s Mr. Coffee machine. It was a vintage kitchen accessory, but one that Alberta couldn’t live without.
Joyce cut up a sausage link and half an omelet and put it on a plate for Lola. She daintily ate her breakfast, while Alberta, who was hungrier than she realized, didn’t come up for air until she finished three links of sausage, two pancakes, and a slice of French toast. Helen refilled their coffee cups and cut one of the blueberry croissants in thirds so they could all share. Helen and Joyce immediately started to eat the buttery pastry, but Alberta stared at hers for a moment, as if she had forgotten how to eat.
“What should I do?” Alberta asked.
Both women knew she was talking about Lisa Marie.
“The only thing you can do, Berta, is call her to find out why she needs your help,” Helen said.
“How can I call her after all this time?” Alberta asked.
“Because she reached out to you,” Joyce replied. “According to her note, she needs you to call her.”
“I’m her mother, I should’ve called her years ago!”
“You tried and she only picked up once to tell you to stop calling her,” Helen said. “We were there, remember? We know what happened.”
“What happened was that I didn’t try harder,” Alberta said. “I should’ve flown down to Florida and forced her to come home.”
“That would’ve been a stupid thing to do and you know it,” Helen said.
“Helen’s right, Berta,” Joyce said. “Lisa Marie didn’t leave in a huff; her departure was contemplated and planned. When she left you, she left for good.”
“Ah Madon!” Alberta cried. “The two of you aren’t making me feel better.”
“Because you’re playing the martyr and it doesn’t suit you,” Helen said. “Don’t you remember what Gandhi said?”
“No, Helen, I don’t,” Alberta said sarcastically. “Why don’t you remind me?”
“Nessuno brami il martirio,” Helen replied.
“Gandhi said that?” Alberta asked.
“Yes. He was the biggest martyr of them all, but he said no one should lust for martyrdom, so knock it off!” Helen cried.
“I’m not doing any such thing,” Alberta protested.
“Berta, I know this has made you question your role as a mother,” Joyce said. “But your daughter was the one who packed up and left.”
“She severed ties with the entire family,” Helen said. “She wouldn’t even see me when I took the girls at St. Dominick’s to Disney World on their senior trip.”
“She doesn’t live anywhere near Disney World,” Alberta said.
“I told her I would take a side trip on the way home, and do you know what your daughter said?” Helen asked. “She told me she didn’t need one of her mother’s spies checking in on her.”
“Dio mio!” Alberta cried. “You never told me that.”
“Because I don’t like to talk bad about people!” Helen cried. “Now, were you the sweetest, most patient, understanding mother who ever lived? Of course you weren’t. But Lisa Marie was hardly the nicest, most considerate, innocent child either. Back in her heyday, that kid of yours could’ve given Patty McCormack a run for her money.”
“You’re saying Lisa Marie was a seme cattivo?” Alberta asked.
“I think calling her a ‘bad seed’ might be a bit harsh,” Joyce said. “But a woman who cuts off ties with her entire family isn’t exactly Little Mary Sunshine.”
“No child is perfect,” Alberta said.
“And neither is any parent,” Helen added. “I don’t approve of the passive-aggressive way she’s reached out to you now, but I also don’t approve of your sulking and second-guessing yourself.”
“I second that,” Joyce said. “About the second-guessing.”
“For whatever reason, your daughter has contacted you, and no matter how painful it might be, you have no choice but to accept her olive branch,” Helen said.
“That’s just it,” Joyce replied. “Maybe Lisa Marie didn’t reach out.”
“I know Lisa Marie hasn’t written to me in years, but I know my daughter’s handwriting,” Alberta said.
“There was no return address, and did you notice the postage mark?” Joyce asked.
“No,” Alberta said. “What’s so special about the postage mark?”
“The card came from Virginia, not Florida,” Joyce replied.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Helen said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Alberta said. “I hate to say it, but now I’m starting to second-guess myself. Maybe it wasn’t from Lisa Marie after all.”
“There’s only one way to find out, Berta,” Helen said. “Give your daughter a call.”
It took Alberta several hours to work up the courage. Finally, around eight o’clock, she sat on her living room couch, stared at the photos of her family and friends that hung on the opposite wall, and made sure that Lola was comfortable in her lap. She said a quick Hail Mary and crossed herself before punching ten numbers into her cell phone that she had never dialed before.
Her heart started to pound and somewhere in the back of her head she knew that she should try to control her breathing by inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, but that information stayed buried, and in its place, panic rose to the forefront of her mind. In a matter of seconds, the many years of silence were about to come to an end and Alberta wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear her daughter’s voice after such a long time. Then a terrible thought entered her mind, a thought no mother should ever have to contemplate: Would she even recognize her daughter’s voice? She shuddered. Yes, of course she’d recognize her daughter’s voice; she knew the handwriting was Lisa Marie’s, so she’d definitely know her voice. Wouldn’t she?
The phone rang a third time and Alberta wondered what she would do when Lisa Marie picked up. Would she be filled with joy or would Alberta only hear the shouts and screams that used to fly out of Lisa Marie’s mouth at the slightest provocation? Would Alberta find the strength to speak or just cry, knowing that she was making contact with her daughter after so many years? All those questions would go unanswered because when the ringing stopped Alberta didn’t hear Lisa Marie’s voice; she only heard an automated recording announcing that the person at this number wasn’t able to take the call. It was as if Alberta had been punched in the stomach. When she heard the beep indicating it was her turn to talk, Alberta discovered that she was unable to speak and hung up.
Her entire body was tingling—from toe to head it felt as if an electric shock was reverberating underneath her skin. Alberta had looked into the face of fear, but there was no image staring back at her. One second her daughter was there and then she wasn’t.
“Why did Lisa Marie ask for my help if she wasn’t going to pick up her phone when I called?” Alberta asked the empty room.
Lola meowed in response and rolled on her back, expecting Alberta to rub her belly as she always did, but Lola didn’t get her wish. Instead, Alberta redialed Lisa Marie’s number, and this time when the call went to voice mail, she was no longer afraid, she was no longer nervous, she was simply a mother who wanted to speak to her daughter.
“Lisa Marie, this is your mother.”
Alberta’s voice was clear and strong.
“I got your card that you sent me . . . which was a very nice surprise.”
Some of the bravado was beginning to slip away and doubt was creeping in.
“You said you needed my help, so I’m calling to offer you that . . . my help.”
Then all Alberta’s strength was gone; the only thing left was her longing to make contact and her fear that things were far worse than she’d initially imagined.
“Call me, Lisa Marie, anytime, just call me . . . so I can help you.”
Luckily, Alberta had nothing more to say because the sob she was holding back erupted with such force that she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, all she could do was cry. She cried for the lost years Lisa Marie was out of her life that she would never get back, she cried for giving in to the cowardice that kept her from reaching out to her daughter, and she cried because she intuitively knew that Lisa Marie was in danger. But how could she help her if she didn’t pick up the phone?
She called a third time, and once again the call went to voice mail.
“L’attesa è la parte più difficile,” Alberta whispered.
She was right—the waiting was the hardest part, after. . .
Alberta was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs in her backyard, facing Memory Lake, the quilt her mother made for her sister Helen when she left home to enter the convent wrapped around her. The design was an elaborate display of squares, triangles, and circles in a rainbow of colors and patterns, with an underside that was lined in light blue fleece. Elena Ferrara had stitched in a photo of the Blessed Mother, along with the words to the Hail Mary, so Helen would always feel connected to her religion. At some point over the years, the hand-made heirloom came into Alberta’s possession. Her mother must have known she would need its comfort one day.
Elena knew that neither of her daughters needed a reminder to embrace their spirituality, but part of a mother’s job was acting as a rete di sicurezza, a safety net, in case her child faltered. It was what Alberta was being asked to do now for her own daughter. Maybe it was because she had spent the past several years reinventing herself—becoming self-reliant, becoming someone’s girlfriend, reintroducing herself to Jinx as her grandmother—but for whatever the reason, Alberta was suddenly having difficulty imagining herself in the role she’d played almost her entire adult life—that of the mother.
Half asleep, Lola squirmed in her lap, and Alberta rubbed the cat’s soft black fur reassuringly. She looked at the card that she held in her other hand and wondered if it was a coincidence that the blue hydrangeas on the cover were the same as the ones that flourished in her backyard each spring, or if Lisa Marie intuitively knew that fact. Perhaps Jinx had mentioned it to her when she was describing Alberta’s house to her mother and Lisa Marie thought it would personalize her plea for help.
“Ah Madon.” Alberta sighed, shaking her head at her own stupidity. She knew her daughter had picked the card at random and didn’t give any thought as to what was on the cover. Lisa Marie could not be described as sentimental.
Similarly, Alberta had not been old-world maternal. She loved her children unconditionally, but as a realist, Alberta recognized their flaws and weaknesses and didn’t sugarcoat them with the delusion that her offspring were perfect. Just as she knew exactly who she was, Alberta knew exactly who her children were. And as painful as it was to admit it, both Lisa Marie and her younger brother, Rocco, took after their father.
After thirty-two hours of agonizing labor, Alberta finally gave birth to her daughter. Alberta was so exhausted and relieved to be on the other side of her first pregnancy that it took her a few moments to realize that her child hadn’t yet made a sound. No wailing cries filled the delivery room, only silence.
Exhausted and drenched in sweat, Alberta searched for clues in the faces of the doctor and the nurses. Why wasn’t her child screaming? Why wasn’t the room bustling with activity? Weren’t they supposed to be placing her baby in her arms?
Immediately, Alberta feared the worst and believed her child was stillborn. The child she carried for nine months, the child she had just pushed into the world would not be her child after all. Not in the real sense, not in the sense that mattered. Despair was only demolished when a loud scream erupted that filled the room with glorious sound. Lisa Marie was alive and well but had decided to take her time in announcing her arrival.
Her cries continued after the nurse placed her in Alberta’s arms and didn’t stop until twenty minutes later, when Sammy, fed up with listening to his daughter screaming, took Lisa Marie from Alberta’s arms and was about to give his child to the nurse with the instructions “to do something to make it stop” when silence once again filled the room. Cradled in her father’s arms, Lisa Marie stopped crying and within a few seconds was sleeping. Sammy was filled with pride, but Alberta felt betrayed. Lisa Marie was clearly her father’s daughter.
Sammy Scaglione wasn’t a bad father, not by any means, but he wasn’t the best role model either. He had been dismissive, a bit of a drinker, and demeaning. But the worst of Sammy’s traits that Lisa Marie inherited was his ability to lie with ease.
The first lie Alberta caught Lisa Marie telling occurred when her daughter was four years old. Alberta was home with the two kids and was suffering from a stomach flu. She placed Rocco, who was not yet a year old, on her bed and surrounded him with pillows as he took his nap so he wouldn’t roll off while Alberta was in the bathroom. Earlier, Lisa Marie had been jumping on the bed, but Alberta yelled at her to stop because she might wake up Rocco or, worse, hurt him if she fell. Of course, while Alberta was out of the room, she heard a thump, and when she raced back into the bedroom, she saw Rocco was on the floor and Lisa Marie was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching television.
When Alberta admonished her daughter for disobeying her, Lisa Marie had looked away from the TV screen and directly into her mother’s eyes. She didn’t blink. Instead, she expertly and effortlessly lied to cover up her role in her brother’s accident.
“I wasn’t jumping,” she had said. “Rocco rolled over and fell on the floor. I didn’t pick him up because I heard you coming and didn’t want to hurt him.”
Alberta felt as if an unknown force was poking a finger in her back, telling her to watch out for this one. And, indeed, she had.
Over the years the lies had continued, and Alberta remembered an incident when Lisa Marie was eight years old. She sent her daughter to the corner grocery store to buy bread and milk as a way for Lisa Marie to gain independence and learn how to make her way in the world. When she returned, Alberta found candy in the pocket of her jacket.
“Lisa, did you buy candy at the store?” Alberta had asked.
When Lisa Marie turned to look at her mother, it was with the same calm, irreproachable expression that had become her trademark.
“No,” she replied. “Mr. Terranova gave it to me for being such a good girl, doing the shopping for my mother.”
The next day, when Alberta was picking up some tomatoes and fresh basil, she thanked Mr. Terranova for being so kind to her daughter but asked him to please not make it a habit to give her candy because she had two cavities at her last dental visit. Mr. Terranova explained that he thought Lisa Marie was well-behaved, but he didn’t give her candy as a reward. Alberta put an extra dollar in the March of Dimes collection can before she left.
One of Lisa Marie’s more audacious lies took place while she was a junior at Immaculate Conception High School. At sixteen, Lisa Marie was not yet a woman, but she felt that if she didn’t raise the hem of her school skirt as high as the Catholic church would allow, she would forever remain a child. Alberta vehemently disagreed and thought her daughter’s skirt hem was perfect skimming her knee. Lisa Marie, on the other hand, felt that if her mother wouldn’t allow her to change the length of her skirt, she’d change schools.
Unbeknownst to her parents, Lisa Marie made an appointment with the new principal of Hoboken High School. She explained that her family had just moved to New Jersey from Sicily and because her parents didn’t speak any English, she had come to enroll herself in the school. If it wasn’t for Rafaella DeFilippo, the principal’s secretary and, luckily, Alberta’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s wife, Lisa Marie would’ve been Hoboken High’s newest student.
Resigned, Alberta gave Lisa Marie an impromptu sewing lesson, and she went to Immaculate Conception the next day with her skirt two inches higher. She showed more leg to her envious classmates, but she showed her mother her true colors. Alberta could no longer dismiss Lisa Marie’s lies as a phase or a natural part of childhood; she was forced to admit that her daughter was deceitful. She wasn’t beyond saving—hardly—but from her vantage point, Alberta saw more bad than good in her daughter.
What made matters worse was that Sammy thought his little girl was an angel. No matter what Alberta and Lisa Marie were arguing about, whether it was unfinished homework or an unfulfilled promise, Sammy always took his daughter’s side. She could do no wrong in his eyes and he felt Alberta was too strict, too old-fashioned, and the one who needed to bend. It created a rift in the family and brought out a not-so-pretty side of Alberta.
Sammy’s comments directly confronted every one of Alberta’s insecurities. His words reinforced her belief that she wasn’t a good mother, that peace and happiness weren’t attainable, that life was meant to be endured, not celebrated. She hated how strong the bond was between Sammy and Lisa Marie and, as a result, she hated herself for harboring such a hateful thought. A father and daughter should be close, but not at the sacrifice of the mother. Their relationship was built on the fact that they both disregarded Alberta, they both categorized her as the villain in the family. For a time, Alberta was more than willing to play that role.
Lisa Marie had rejected Alberta’s maternal instincts, so Alberta tried other tactics to communicate with her daughter. She was sarcastic when she should have been compassionate, dismissive when she should have been interested, short-fused instead of patient. It was a poor strategy and only succeeded in pushing Alberta and Lisa Marie further away from each other.
Things got worse in Lisa Marie’s senior year of high school, when she announced she wasn’t going to college but was going to marry Tommy Maldonado. Both Alberta and Sammy were surprised by the announcement because they didn’t think she and Tommy were that close, but after the shock of finding out that wedding bells would quickly follow the pomp and circumstance of graduation, Sammy accepted the idea. Tommy came from a good family, he had never been in trouble with the police, and he was going to be an electrician, which was a secure job that would allow him to provide for Lisa Marie. As far as Sammy was concerned, that was all a man had to do. Alberta, however, thought there was much more for a woman to do.
Alberta wanted her daughter to have the opportunities and options she never had. She instinctively knew that if Lisa Marie married Tommy, her daughter would have the same life that she had with Sammy. And she wanted so much more for her child.
“Why do you have to rush into marriage?” Alberta had asked. “You’re not even out of high school.”
“You got married right after high school,” Lisa Marie replied.
“Not right after,” Alberta corrected. “I worked at the Kleinfeld Insurance Agency.”
“For like a month.”
“Six months.”
“And you said you hated every second of it. Look, Ma, just because you’re unhappy in your marriage doesn’t mean I’m going to be unhappy in mine.”
“I’m not unhappy!”
“Bull! I don’t know why you just don’t divorce Daddy.”
“Dio mio! Because when you get married it’s for life, those are the vows you take.”
“Trust me, Ma, the Catholic church isn’t gonna crumble to the ground if you and Daddy call it quits. The Pope’s not gonna lose any sleep over one more failed marriage.”
“Our marriage isn’t a failure!”
“It’s a joke! I don’t know if you ever loved each other, but you sure don’t love each other now.”
“Basta!” Alberta cried. “Watch your mouth when you talk to me!”
Lisa Marie stared right into her mother’s eyes and smirked. “You might want to take your own advice.”
Even though Lisa Marie had made her intention to marry Tommy the following spring imminently clear and even wore his engagement ring—which Alberta told Helen was only visible if it was viewed underneath a magnifying glass—Alberta hadn’t given up hope that her daughter might choose an alternative path after she graduated from high school. With all good intentions but without her daughter’s knowledge, Alberta applied to several colleges on Lisa Marie’s behalf. When her daughter found out what she did, Alberta didn’t receive Lisa Marie’s blessing.
“You did what?” Lisa Marie screamed.
“I applied to a few schools for you, that’s all,” Alberta explained. “You make it sound as if I went behind your back.”
“That’s exactly what you did, Ma! I told you, I’m not going to college.”
“But you got into Rutgers and Montclair State.”
“No, I didn’t, you did! Because you forged my name on the application!”
“And I wrote you a very good essay too, don’t forget that.”
“Trust me, Ma, I’m never going to forget that!”
Lisa Marie leafed through the papers that had come in the mail from Montclair State College. The acceptance letter, the course brochure, the financial aid packet. She stopped when she got to a copy of the essay that bore her name but not her thoughts.
“ ‘The main reason I want to attend Montclair State is because of my mother,’” Lisa Marie said. With every word that she recited, she mocked Alberta. It was evident that the essay had nothing to do with Lisa Marie’s desire for a higher education and everything to do with Alberta’s desperation for her daughter to have the kind of life Alberta never could.
“ ‘She’s instilled in me a sense of purpose and conviction so I could achieve more than she ever could. It’s only because of her that I have the courage to reach my dreams. ’ ”
When Lisa Marie was finished, she threw the papers in her mother’s face. Both women were furious. Lisa Marie because she felt her mother had betrayed her and Alberta because she felt her daughter was betraying herself.
“This isn’t my dream, Ma, it’s yours!” Lisa Marie yelled. “You want me to live the life you didn’t have the guts to live!”
“What’s wrong with a parent wanting their child to have a better life?”
“Nothing! But you don’t get to decide what I do with my life!”
“I’m not trying to do that! I’m trying to show you that you can do things other than get married and have children.”
“Stop lying, Ma! We both know that you resent being a wife and mother and you wish to God every single day of your life that you had done something else with your life!”
Alberta wanted to disagree with her daughter, but she couldn’t. They both knew that Lisa Marie was right.
After that incident, it was obvious by the way he acted that Sammy noticed the rift between his wife and daughter had deepened, but neither one told him the source of the tension. Alberta didn’t confess because she was ashamed, and she assumed Lisa Marie kept quiet to use that piece of information against her at a future date. It was a thought that filled Alberta with even more shame.
Sitting underneath the quilt, Alberta shivered. November had been a colder-than-usual month and, according to the Farmers’ Almanac, which Alberta still trusted more than the local weatherman, winter was going to come early. It prompted another memory, this one of the last Christmas before Lisa Marie got married.
As had become the norm, a harmless exchange of words turned into an argument. Lisa Marie and Alberta were decorating their tree, the same store-bought tree they’d been decorating since Lisa Marie was a toddler. That year, Lisa Marie only wanted to use silver and white decorations. She had seen the window display of a department store in New York and wanted to replicate the chic, elegant look in their own home. Alberta thought it sounded pretty but pointed out that if they adopted that color scheme, they wouldn’t be able to use the gold star topper that Alberta’s grandmother gave her for the first Christmas she was married.
“So what?” Lisa Marie replied. “The woman’s dead, just like your marriage to Daddy.”
Alberta looked into Lisa Marie’s eyes, searching for regret, remorse, even hatred, but couldn’t find anything. Her daughter believed what she said and didn’t think there was anything wrong in saying it. She didn’t consider what the words would mean to her mother; she didn’t consider her mother at all.
Sammy was surprised that the tree that year was trimmed with only silver and white decorations, but he said he liked it better and didn’t notice they also used a different topper. It was a white angel in a thick silver robe that Tommy had given to Lisa Marie. Alberta lied and said she thought it was very pretty. Lisa Marie lied and said she was sad it was going to be the last Christmas she’d celebrate at home. Sammy lied and said he was going to miss the constant bickering that would end after Lisa Marie left the house.
“La casa che giace costruita,” Alberta had muttered to herself.
She held Lola up to her face and rubbed her cheek on her smooth fur.
“A house of lies,” Alberta said. “That’s what it was, Lola.”
Another shiver gripped her spine. She wasn’t cold; she was scared because she knew that some of those lies were on their way home.
Alberta knew she was in trouble when she saw two wise women enter her backyard bearing gifts. Helen and Joyce stood in front of Alberta, holding bags from the Tranquility Diner, and despite the emotional strain she was under, Alberta smiled because the women only traveled together when they had a mission, and they only brought food when they thought Alberta was too upset to cook. It lifted her spirits to see that the two women had joined forces on her behalf. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence.
Alberta’s sister and sister-in-law had grown much closer these past few years. Every once in a while, the friction that had outlined their relationship would bubble to the surface, but mainly the two women had learned to embrace their differences. And there were many.
As a former nun, Helen had taken a vow of poverty, while Joyce, a retired Wall Street investment banker, had made a fortune. Helen’s wardrobe consisted primarily of calf-length dresses in various shades of gray like her hair, black shoes with sensible heels, and her black pocketbook, which she was never without, while Joyce’s wardrobe took up a guest room in her house and contained designer couture from the last seven decades. Helen was diminutive, pale, and blunt, whereas Joyce was full-figured, African American, and polite. They were an odd pairing, but time and a little understanding on both their parts had brought them closer together. Their love for Alberta brought them to her backyard.
“What are you doing here so early?” Alberta asked, looking at her watch. “Dio mio! It’s barely seven o’clock.”
“You’ve been up all night, haven’t you?” Helen asked.
“Maybe,” Alberta replied.
“And you didn’t have any dinner or breakfast,” Joyce said.
“Maybe,” Alberta repeated.
“I know you’ve been thrown a curve, Berta,” Helen said. “But you still have to eat.”
“What did you bring?” Alberta asked.
“French toast, sausage, a side of hash browns, a stack of silver dollar pancakes, and fresh blueberry croissants,” Helen replied.
“Also too, Kwon may be from Korea, but he makes the most delicious Greek omelets,” Joyce added. “Feta cheese and kalamata olives, it’s my new favorite.”
“I am a little hungry. I guess I could nibble,” Alberta said. “But who’s Kwon?”
“Kwon Lee, the new owner and chef of the Tranquility Diner,” Joyce replied.
“Right, sorry,” Alberta said. “My mind is elsewhere.”
“Could we get elsewhere before the food gets cold?” Helen asked.
“Go inside, the door’s unlocked,” Alberta said, rising from her chair.
As Helen passed by Alberta, she said, “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re snuggled underneath my quilt.”
“Possession is nine tenths of the law, Helen,” Alberta remarked.
“It’s on loan, Berta!” Helen cried.
Once inside, Joyce and Helen hung up their coats on the hooks next to the door. Joyce’s burnt orange cape in bright contrast to Helen’s black parka. They transferred the contents of the bags to plates, and Helen poured them all coffee from the pot that was being kept warm in Alberta’s Mr. Coffee machine. It was a vintage kitchen accessory, but one that Alberta couldn’t live without.
Joyce cut up a sausage link and half an omelet and put it on a plate for Lola. She daintily ate her breakfast, while Alberta, who was hungrier than she realized, didn’t come up for air until she finished three links of sausage, two pancakes, and a slice of French toast. Helen refilled their coffee cups and cut one of the blueberry croissants in thirds so they could all share. Helen and Joyce immediately started to eat the buttery pastry, but Alberta stared at hers for a moment, as if she had forgotten how to eat.
“What should I do?” Alberta asked.
Both women knew she was talking about Lisa Marie.
“The only thing you can do, Berta, is call her to find out why she needs your help,” Helen said.
“How can I call her after all this time?” Alberta asked.
“Because she reached out to you,” Joyce replied. “According to her note, she needs you to call her.”
“I’m her mother, I should’ve called her years ago!”
“You tried and she only picked up once to tell you to stop calling her,” Helen said. “We were there, remember? We know what happened.”
“What happened was that I didn’t try harder,” Alberta said. “I should’ve flown down to Florida and forced her to come home.”
“That would’ve been a stupid thing to do and you know it,” Helen said.
“Helen’s right, Berta,” Joyce said. “Lisa Marie didn’t leave in a huff; her departure was contemplated and planned. When she left you, she left for good.”
“Ah Madon!” Alberta cried. “The two of you aren’t making me feel better.”
“Because you’re playing the martyr and it doesn’t suit you,” Helen said. “Don’t you remember what Gandhi said?”
“No, Helen, I don’t,” Alberta said sarcastically. “Why don’t you remind me?”
“Nessuno brami il martirio,” Helen replied.
“Gandhi said that?” Alberta asked.
“Yes. He was the biggest martyr of them all, but he said no one should lust for martyrdom, so knock it off!” Helen cried.
“I’m not doing any such thing,” Alberta protested.
“Berta, I know this has made you question your role as a mother,” Joyce said. “But your daughter was the one who packed up and left.”
“She severed ties with the entire family,” Helen said. “She wouldn’t even see me when I took the girls at St. Dominick’s to Disney World on their senior trip.”
“She doesn’t live anywhere near Disney World,” Alberta said.
“I told her I would take a side trip on the way home, and do you know what your daughter said?” Helen asked. “She told me she didn’t need one of her mother’s spies checking in on her.”
“Dio mio!” Alberta cried. “You never told me that.”
“Because I don’t like to talk bad about people!” Helen cried. “Now, were you the sweetest, most patient, understanding mother who ever lived? Of course you weren’t. But Lisa Marie was hardly the nicest, most considerate, innocent child either. Back in her heyday, that kid of yours could’ve given Patty McCormack a run for her money.”
“You’re saying Lisa Marie was a seme cattivo?” Alberta asked.
“I think calling her a ‘bad seed’ might be a bit harsh,” Joyce said. “But a woman who cuts off ties with her entire family isn’t exactly Little Mary Sunshine.”
“No child is perfect,” Alberta said.
“And neither is any parent,” Helen added. “I don’t approve of the passive-aggressive way she’s reached out to you now, but I also don’t approve of your sulking and second-guessing yourself.”
“I second that,” Joyce said. “About the second-guessing.”
“For whatever reason, your daughter has contacted you, and no matter how painful it might be, you have no choice but to accept her olive branch,” Helen said.
“That’s just it,” Joyce replied. “Maybe Lisa Marie didn’t reach out.”
“I know Lisa Marie hasn’t written to me in years, but I know my daughter’s handwriting,” Alberta said.
“There was no return address, and did you notice the postage mark?” Joyce asked.
“No,” Alberta said. “What’s so special about the postage mark?”
“The card came from Virginia, not Florida,” Joyce replied.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Helen said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Alberta said. “I hate to say it, but now I’m starting to second-guess myself. Maybe it wasn’t from Lisa Marie after all.”
“There’s only one way to find out, Berta,” Helen said. “Give your daughter a call.”
It took Alberta several hours to work up the courage. Finally, around eight o’clock, she sat on her living room couch, stared at the photos of her family and friends that hung on the opposite wall, and made sure that Lola was comfortable in her lap. She said a quick Hail Mary and crossed herself before punching ten numbers into her cell phone that she had never dialed before.
Her heart started to pound and somewhere in the back of her head she knew that she should try to control her breathing by inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, but that information stayed buried, and in its place, panic rose to the forefront of her mind. In a matter of seconds, the many years of silence were about to come to an end and Alberta wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear her daughter’s voice after such a long time. Then a terrible thought entered her mind, a thought no mother should ever have to contemplate: Would she even recognize her daughter’s voice? She shuddered. Yes, of course she’d recognize her daughter’s voice; she knew the handwriting was Lisa Marie’s, so she’d definitely know her voice. Wouldn’t she?
The phone rang a third time and Alberta wondered what she would do when Lisa Marie picked up. Would she be filled with joy or would Alberta only hear the shouts and screams that used to fly out of Lisa Marie’s mouth at the slightest provocation? Would Alberta find the strength to speak or just cry, knowing that she was making contact with her daughter after so many years? All those questions would go unanswered because when the ringing stopped Alberta didn’t hear Lisa Marie’s voice; she only heard an automated recording announcing that the person at this number wasn’t able to take the call. It was as if Alberta had been punched in the stomach. When she heard the beep indicating it was her turn to talk, Alberta discovered that she was unable to speak and hung up.
Her entire body was tingling—from toe to head it felt as if an electric shock was reverberating underneath her skin. Alberta had looked into the face of fear, but there was no image staring back at her. One second her daughter was there and then she wasn’t.
“Why did Lisa Marie ask for my help if she wasn’t going to pick up her phone when I called?” Alberta asked the empty room.
Lola meowed in response and rolled on her back, expecting Alberta to rub her belly as she always did, but Lola didn’t get her wish. Instead, Alberta redialed Lisa Marie’s number, and this time when the call went to voice mail, she was no longer afraid, she was no longer nervous, she was simply a mother who wanted to speak to her daughter.
“Lisa Marie, this is your mother.”
Alberta’s voice was clear and strong.
“I got your card that you sent me . . . which was a very nice surprise.”
Some of the bravado was beginning to slip away and doubt was creeping in.
“You said you needed my help, so I’m calling to offer you that . . . my help.”
Then all Alberta’s strength was gone; the only thing left was her longing to make contact and her fear that things were far worse than she’d initially imagined.
“Call me, Lisa Marie, anytime, just call me . . . so I can help you.”
Luckily, Alberta had nothing more to say because the sob she was holding back erupted with such force that she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, all she could do was cry. She cried for the lost years Lisa Marie was out of her life that she would never get back, she cried for giving in to the cowardice that kept her from reaching out to her daughter, and she cried because she intuitively knew that Lisa Marie was in danger. But how could she help her if she didn’t pick up the phone?
She called a third time, and once again the call went to voice mail.
“L’attesa è la parte più difficile,” Alberta whispered.
She was right—the waiting was the hardest part, after. . .
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Murder at the Mistletoe Ball
J.D. Griffo
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