“We brought dinner!” Krista gestured like a game show model showing off the prizes.
“Thank you again,” Mom said. “What a treat.”
“It’s our pleasure. Or Anton’s pleasure since he did all the work. But he was happy to, weren’t you, honey?”
“Of course,” Anton said with a slight nod.
“There should be something for everyone,” Krista said. “We know Paul loves all-meat, so we brought one of those.”
Dad grunted his assent.
“There’s also a pepperoni and a margherita for something a little lighter. Mel, we brought a personal-sized fried pickle pizza just for you.”
“Doesn’t anyone else want the pickle pizza?” Melanie asked.
Mom was too polite to make a face, but Dad was not. He grimaced.
I leaned closer to Mel. “I think that one’s all you.”
She shrugged. “Their loss.”
We all dished up in the kitchen and took our plates to the dining table while Mom poured wine. I followed my dad’s lead and took some of the all-meat. The toppings were so thick, my plate felt like it weighed ten pounds.
The Andolinis knew how to do pizza right.
Melanie’s pickle pizza, on the other hand, looked like a culinary abomination.
“I can’t believe you’re going to eat that,” I said as we sat down.
“Fried pickle pizza is one of my dad’s greatest inventions.”
“I didn’t invent it,” Anton said.
“Okay, but you perfected it,” she said around a bite. “This is amazing.”
He smiled at her and took a bite of his pepperoni.
“So how’s the pizza business?” my dad asked.
“Business is good,” Anton said.
“We just love it,” Krista said. “Everyone who comes in feels like family. Except the ones who complain. They can bite me.”
My mom laughed and Dad grunted his agreement.
“Although, things have been so tense lately.” Krista cast a worried glance at Anton. “Because of… you know.”
“Mom, maybe let’s not,” Melanie said.
“Sorry, sorry.” Krista put her hands up. “But if they don’t catch him soon, I don’t know what.”
“They will,” Dad said. “A guy like that won’t be able to keep it up for long without making a mistake. He’ll get caught.”
“Maybe he’ll move on,” Krista said. “Just disappear, and this will all end.”
“Or get hit by a train,” Anton said.
“That’d be too good for him,” Dad grumbled.