Page 7 of Storm in a D Cup

‘But – but…’ I faltered.

‘Ah, don’t tellme,’ Judy said. ‘I’m missing out on two weeks of my gym classes, you know.’

If my sister’s past was anything to go by, gym class meant everything to her. If she was missing out on two weeks with a possible new trainer/lover, I could miss out on our own holidays, according to her twisted logic.

‘If you have issues, call Mom and tell her.’

Son of a gun – she did it again! And so smoothly, too! ‘Right. Let me know your arrival details and I’ll come pick you guys up at the airport.’

‘Bring two vans. The aunts are coming as well.’

Nowthat, on the contrary, was very good news. My aunts Maria, Monica and Martina were loads of fun. Everything went well when they were around. The three of them co-owned a successful restaurant called Le Tre Donne. The fact that Marcy hadn’t been invited into the joint venture spoke worlds on its own. They didn’t get along. Or rather, Marcy didn’t get along with them.

The truth is that Marcy was jealous of the attention my aunts gave my dad, who is a fine man in every way. Tall and dark-haired, he has these amazingly piercing dark eyes that shine with mischief. He’s always impeccably coiffed and dressed, whether in a suit or his golfing gear.

In fairness, after my own mother died and he married Marcy, if it hadn’t been for my grandmother Silvia and my aunts chipping in to help with the daily chores, we’d have developed lice and scurvy, to say the least.

But Marcy was not grateful in the least. If anything, she called them nosy and interfering. They were all so beautiful, sharp-witted and extremely classy and had a soft spot for Maddy and Warren. They were also crazy about Julian who, in turn, spoiled them rotten. It would be great to see them again.

My brother Vince, who acted like Vito Corleone, was an overbearing, know-it-all husband who turned into a little lamb in Marcy’s presence (he adored her and treated her like the matriarch of his family – God knows how he’d come to that conclusion). His poor wife Sandra, whom he’d fallen out of love with years ago, simply bore with him, presumably because he was a great dad. He loved Vito and Michael.

‘Is Steve coming too?’ I asked. Steve being my sister Judy’s husband and the only sane person in the family.

The only non-Italian member of the family was a true-blood American guy whom she’d cheated on more times than anyone could count. He’d thrown her out once and taken her back almost immediately. The scare had been tremendous, so for a while she was on her best behavior. She’d always been a bit of a floozie, Judy. But her kids – Jake, Jamie and Tony – were real darlings.

‘Steve? That would be a yes. He never lets me out of his sight since I… well, you know…’

‘Ah yes, I remember, the Face Eater,’ I recalled, meaning Judy’s not-so-little tryst.

‘Do you have to keep saying that? It’s gross.’

‘Gross? If I recall, you weren’t complaining back then.’

‘Erica…’

‘I’m sorry – you’re right. I don’t want to be judgmental like Marcy.’

Judy snorted. ‘She’s gotten even worse. Now she drinks more than ever, and poor old Dad has a tough time controlling her.’

‘Oh, great, can’t wait.’

‘Erica? My two cents? Just ignore her. That’s how I get through the day.’

‘I guess. OK, then, see you guys soon…’

‘Bye, Erica…’

Thinking of all the fun things the Cantelli/Foxham clan could do together if Marcy didn’t ruin everything at least once a day, I fluffed up my pillow and shifted to my ready-for-sleep, face-down frog-like position when the phone rang again. Judy must have forgotten to tell me something.

‘Hello?’

Silence.

‘Hello?’ I repeated. We had crap connection sometimes.

‘Hello? Is this that holiday place?’ said a woman in an American accent who, if I may add, didn’t sound awfully bright.

‘Yes, this is A Taste of Tuscany. How may I help you?’

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