Page 103 of Legally Mine

"Bubbe," I said. "Today..."

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady. I'll get to it when I'm good and ready."

I sighed, and propped my chin in my hand. There was nothing I could do but wait her out when she got like this.

"I...it's probably nothing. But I saw her the other day. At the store. She was shopping, and let me tell you, Skylar, that woman knows nothing about nutrition. Nothing but junk food in her cart! What if she and my Danny get married? Is he supposed to survive off of potato chips and sugary soda?"

"Bubbe," I said again, rubbing a frustrated hand over my forehead. "Did you call me because you were concerned about Katie Corleone's grocery habits?"

"Skylar, you have never been patient, and that is going to be your end."

I just closed my eyes and waited.

"As I was saying, I saw her at the store, buying all of this junk. And then a man's voice called her name. He said, 'Katie, honey!' So of course I followed her to see who this man was. I was very careful not to be seen."

I had no problem imagining my tiny grandmother creeping around the aisles of the Associated Supermarket, peeking through the towers of kosher pickles like a private eye. No doubt she fancied herself a regular Nancy Drew.

"So she went up to this man, and he kissed her on the cheek, bubbela, and put a very friendly hand around her waist while they walked down the aisle. He even touched her on the tuchus!"

Her thick Brooklyn accent was becoming more pronounced, and she was peppering her speech with Yiddish, both sure signs of excitement. I frowned as Eric and Jared chatted amiably on the couch.

"What did the guy look like, Bubbe?"

My heart sank in my chest as she described a short, portly man with a round belly and receding hairline. She hadn't gotten a good look at his face, but when she said that Katie had called him "Vic", I knew exactly who it was. Proof positive that my dad's girlfriend was a close associate of Victor Messina, the thug who had almost cost my father his life just a few months before.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath.

My dad had stubbornly refused to listen to all suspicions I had about the woman, and I'd been putting off going down there and confronting her myself.

"What?" Bubbe asked. "What's the matter? I knew she was bad news. I just...your father, Skylar...he's been playing piano again still...and she always seems to make him so happy."

"I know," I said regretfully. "I know. But Bubbe, she's no good. I'll come down this weekend and talk to dad and Katie. But you can't say anything to spook her, understand? I mean it."

There was a silence on the other end of the line. Restraint wasn't Bubbe's strong suit, especially when it came to her son. But at last she sighed.

"All right," she said. "But only if you come this weekend and take care of it. You promise?"

"I promise, Bubbe," I said. And I hated that at this point, that was really all I could do.

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