Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(124)

I closed my eyes, my forehead falling to my hand. They weren’t holding any drinks. What a pitiful cover story. Had they not learned anything from their father? How had I failed them so spectacularly?

“Yes. Drinks. For pizza. For going with the pizza.”

I peeked at my boys through my fingers.

Frankie, towering over us all at six-foot-five-inches, lifted his giant hand toward the table. “Obviously.”

Our oldest daughter’s pointed index finger moved between her brothers. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” the three of us chorused in unison.

My hand dropped back to my thigh. Damn. Real smooth. Not suspicious at all.

Crossing her arms, Kimmy faced me. “Dad?”

“Daughter.”

Her mouth twitched, but she didn’t smile. “Does this have anything to do with your missing child?”

“Tommy isn’t missing,” Joshua volunteered, earning him four eyeballs of ire from me and Frankie.

“Come on! Just tell me what’s happening.” Kimmy heaved a dramatic sigh. “All of you are supposed to be in your suits and over at the church in an hour. Nanna and Alessandro’s momma are whipping each other into a frenzy because no one has seen Tommy, and momma is trying to get her hair done but spent the morning calming them down instead.”

A pang of guilt made me grimace. I didn’t know that. When Charlotte left earlier to get her hair done, it didn’t occur to me that she’d be plagued by the wedding witches.

My sons looked to me for direction, their mouths clamped shut, waiting to follow my lead. I wavered.

On the one hand, I’d kept Sonya out of the loop for obvious reasons—she didn’t need her baby brother ruining her big day. Kimmy and Charlotte had been kept out of it. The less people who had to cover for Tommy the better.

On the other hand, Kimmy didn’t mind lying. This wasn’t a reason to tell her, per se, but it did mean we could trust her not to spill the coffee beans before the ceremony, which was more than I could say for my youngest.

“Fine,” I sighed, pushing a hand through my hair and then scratching my salt and pepper beard—still more pepper than salt. “Here’s what happened. Tommy woke up late, which— whatever, we’re on vacation. But then he put on his suit first thing. When he came out here for breakfast, he wasn’t watching himself and spilled coffee all over the front.”

Kimmy grimaced, and then she grinned, and then she laughed, her expressions a whole damn journey. “All over the white suit? Really?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “All over his white, custom-made, Italian suit.”

Joshua also chuckled. “You should’ve seen his face. He was strutting around, acting like we all did at fifteen, thinking he was hot shit and sweet potato pie.”

“And then he picked up a coffee cup as a prop.” Frankie, also laughing ’cause he’d been there with me and Joshua when it happened, mimed Tommy picking up the cup, his pinky out. Then he mimed Tommy setting the full cup down too hard and the contents splashing everywhere, Tommy freaking out, knocking the cup over, and spilling it down the front of his pure white—not eggshell, not steam, not cloud, and not fucking ecru either—suit.

All three of my kids were in stitches after Frankie had finished his hilarious pantomime. Despite the stress of the situation, I chuckled, too, and shook my head at their antics. They always made me laugh.

“Be we found a new suit,” Joshua said, wiping at his eyes. “It’s not white, but it fits.”

“It fits?” Kimmy, also wiping her eyes, looked to me.

I shrugged again. “Don’t look at me. I’ve been ordering pizza. I’m not the one who found the suit.”

“He tried it on and it fits. It’s black, so he’ll match the rest of us.” Frankie pulled the credit card I’d loaned them from his breast pocket and held it out to me. “We bought a white suit shirt and tie from the shop downstairs, too. And an undershirt. He’s all set.”

“Alessandro’s mom is going to be pissed.” Kimmy rubbed her hands together, a mischievous smile on her pretty face. “So will Nanna.”

“Kimmy,” I warned. “Don’t be mean to Alessandro’s momma. She’s stressed. It’s a big day for her, her only son getting married.”

“But it’s not her wedding,” Joshua grumbled. “It’s Sonya and Alessandro’s wedding, and she just took over and then made you and momma pay for it. Sonya doesn’t care what color our suits are.”

“I know, I know.” I lifted my hands to pacify them, playing my part as arbitrator.

Even though I’d taken a fair amount of glee in telling Mrs. Calbrini that I used to run a strip club, and that’s how Charlotte and I had gotten together—and then I watched all the blood drain from her face—I’d learned enough about adulting over the years to know keeping the peace was important. These people were Sonya’s in-laws, or would be soon, and making their lives difficult would just make Sonya’s life unbearable.

Sonya was precious to me, to all of us, and Alessandro was a decent fella. No one would ever be good enough for any of my kids, but he’d come pretty darn close.

“Where is he?” I directed my question to Joshua while accepting the credit card Frankie held out. “Still sulking?”