Page 60 of A Matter of Pedigree
“Just gravy,” said Mom, dropping her spoon and hugging them in turn. “Big Frank hasn’t been cooking much lately; he’s been down in the cellar helping Frank-O with his project.”
Carole was worried, listening to the clangs and bangs issuing up through the heating vent. “Isn’t Frank-O supposed to do it on his own?”
“It’s all Frank-O’s ideas,” said Mom. “Big Frank just helps with the heavy lifting.”
“You think he’ll mind if I take a look?” asked Carole.
“Why should he mind? Go on! Your mama and I will have a cup of coffee.”
“I could use some coffee,” admitted Polly, apparently feeling the effects of three blue martinis. She collapsed onto a chair at the kitchen table, which was covered with a plastic cloth and littered with newspapers and sudoku books.
In the cellar, Carole was relieved to see that Frank-O looked much better. His cheeks were rosy from the exertion of working on the sculpture, and his voice and breathing were almost normal. His hair was still bright blue.
“So what exactly is this?” asked Carole, once the hugs and greeting were over. She gestured to the assemblage of copper pipe that was taking up most of the free space in the cellar workshop. “What’s with all the copper pipe?”
“Offcuts,” said Big Frank. “From the Factory job.”
“Yeah, Mom. This whole sculpture is made from recycled pipe that Big Frank salvaged from the trash pile. It all would’ve been thrown away.”
“Really?” asked Carole. “Isn’t copper pipe expensive?”
“Yeah,” replied Big Frank. “For sure. But this is all little bits, too small to use.”
Carole studied the sculpture, which was indeed pieced together from many small lengths of pipe, some measuring only a couple of inches. “I can see that you were able to make a very intricate design,” she said. “It’s really complicated, like a puzzle.”
“Yeah, Mom!” agreed Frank-O, enthusiastically. “It’s calledque, spelled with a q.”
“Oh,” said Carole, not much the wiser.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“I guess not.”
“Well, cu is the scientific notation for the element copper, andqueis pronounced the same way and is a common word in several languages, including French wherequeis a question. It meanswhat.”
Carole thought about this. “Q-u-e is the beginning of the wordquestion.”
“Right, Ma! I didn’t think of that.”
Carole was beginning to doubt that her son was as smart as she liked to think he was. “So this whole piece is a kind of copper question mark?”
“Wow, Ma. You’ve got it!” Frank-O was beaming at her. “You’re really cool.”
“Thanks,” she said, heading back upstairs. “I’m starting detox tomorrow,” she explained to Mom. “In the meantime, I’d love a glass of chianti.”
At the table, Polly pursed her lips and gave her a disapproving glance. “You’re driving,” she said, “and I’d like to get home alive.”
“I guess I better have some Pellegrino,” said Carole.
After leaving Mom and Big Frank’s, they stopped on Atwells Avenue and picked up some groceries, some nice lemon chicken and pasta salad from Venda Ravioli for supper, and some cannoli for Frank from Scialo’s.
Polly wasn’t happy about the cannoli. “Why don’t you make some profiteroles, like you learned in class?” she asked. “French pastry is so much better than Italian.”
“Try telling that to Frank,” said Carole, ordering a dozen, assorted.
Then they were back in the car, passing the Factory, on their way home. A big sign had gone up announcing that apartments would soon be available and the rental office was now open.
“Let’s stop,” said Polly, impulsively. “I’d like to see what it’s all about.”
