Poor Tiffany. This was going to break her heart.
Lucille wasn’t sure how she got home. Downtown New Providence went by in a blur. She supposed it was what they called shock. She was so rattled she couldn’t even remember what she’d planned to make for dinner. It wasn’t until she pulled into her driveway that she remembered she’d bought some nice veal cutlets from the butcher on South Street. Frankie would like that. Veal parmigiana was one of his favorite dishes. Maybe it would make up for giving him that curry stuff the night before.
The house was quiet when Lucille walked in. Bernadette and the baby must be napping. Tony Jr. was probably still at work. He’d inherited half of Frank’s pest control business—You Got ’Em—We’ll Get ’Em was Jofra’s motto.
“Polly want a cracker. Polly want a cracker,” a voice called from the living room. Lucille jumped until she remembered the parrot they’d acquired. It was in the living room in a cage. She hadn’t wanted a bird but sometimes you didn’t get no choice in the matter.
