Diana Orgain - Motherhood Is Murder

“Hi, it’s Kate Connolly.”

“Ah! Kate! You must have read my mind.”

“Really, why’s that?”

“I was wondering if you and your husband and, of course, your beautiful daughter might join us for dinner.”

Us? Who was ‘us’? I thought he was single.

“We’d love to.”

“Great, how about six?”

“That works.”

“So, what can I do for you?”

Okay, here was my moment. Just say it, spit it out.

“Uh . . . well . . . no . . . Uh, we’ll see you tonight.”

Jim shuffled Laurie in his arms as I rang the bell. We waited a moment for the door to open, enjoying the smell of frying garlic wafting in the air.

Galigani pulled the door open and smiled. “Welcome!”

Jim placed a hand on my waist and guided me inside. I handed the bottle of Chianti to Galigani and spotted a woman sitting on the couch. I froze in my tracks. I must have unconsciously taken a step backward because I bumped directly into Jim and Laurie.

Jim recovered first. “Mom, what are you doing here? What a surprise!”

My mother stood from the couch and laughed. “Hello, darlings!”

I regained my composure somewhat and allowed Galigani to take my coat and usher us into the living room.

“Make yourselves at home,” Galigani said. “I’ll open the Chianti and stir the sauce. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked Mom.

She smiled. “Albert invited me.”

My mouth gaped and remained that way probably a tad too long, because Jim stepped forward and whispered urgently, “What about Hank?”

My mother hadn’t dated anyone since divorcing my father eons ago. Then recently she’d found a beau online and had seemed quite content. They were even planning a cruise to Mexico.

“Well, darlings. I’m not married , you know.”

My mouth, still hanging open, dropped an inch farther.

Mother motioned for Jim to hand Laurie to her. Jim passed the baby over then glanced at me and subtly pointed his chin toward the kitchen.

The swinging door to the dining room flung open and Galigani appeared with a tray full of prosciutto-wrapped melon. “Let’s start with this. I have a plate of antipasto coming up, and let me grab that Chianti.”

He placed the tray on the coffee table.

“Oh, Albert, let me help you.” Mom passed Laurie to me and disappeared with Galigani toward the kitchen.

I hit Jim’s arm. “Can you believe this?”

Jim eagerly popped a prosciutto-wrapped melon into his mouth. “It’s crazy. Can you believe these melons are so sweet out of season? This is delicious!”

I remained standing in the same spot. Too stunned to move, I clutched Laurie to me and inhaled her scent. The new shampoo from Magic Moments smelled like jasmine. I hadn’t tried the bath gel with lavender yet, because I was so enamored with the jasmine fragrance.

Mother and Galigani reappeared through the swinging door giggling. Mom carried the wineglasses and bottle on a tray. Galigani brought the antipasto plate.

“This melon stuff is unbelievable,” Jim said.

Galigani smiled broadly. “That’s one of my favorites. I’ve had to give up a lot of favorites after the open heart surgery, but thankfully this one’s on the list of keepers.” He picked one up off the plate and examined it thoughtfully. “I think it’s because of the fruit.”

“Oh! Fruit is so good for you,” Mom piped up. “Tons of antioxidants!”

Galigani nodded, then turned to me. “Why don’t you have a seat, Kate?”

I willed my feet to move forward.

How awkward. If Mom and Galigani were on a date, what the hell were Jim, Laurie, and I doing here?

I sank into the high-back chair next to the coffee table. Laurie squirmed in my arms then cried out. I don’t know how babies detect when you’re sitting or standing, but some alarm must sound as soon as you decide to take a load off.

Mom took Laurie out of my arms. “Have some wine, dear.”

She began her elaborate “putting the baby to sleep” dance, which included some deep knee bends, tippy-toe rocking, hip sways, and a scary swooping motion as the grand finale. The entire dance bordered on the ridiculous, except for the fact that it worked. Always.

Galigani watched my mother with an expression somewhere between confusion and awe.

I grabbed my wineglass and drank deeply. A little more than I meant to because the wine burned going down and I almost gagged. I watched Jim shovel some salami into his mouth.

“So, what were you calling about earlier, Kate?”

“Uh . . .” I was happy to have my mind engaged on something other than Mom’s dating life and yet words evaded me.

“She’s got a gig as a PI,” Jim said, crunching on a marinated pepper.

I shook my head. “Ummm. Yeah. Well, sort of. I don’t know that you’d call it a gig—”

Jim opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. “Whew! Hot pepper. Love it!” He grabbed his glass of wine. “Lady wants to hire Kate.”

Galigani smiled at me. “Only you don’t have a license.”

“Well, Albert, you have one, right?” Mom chimed in.

Galigani frowned “Yes, I do.”

Talk about awkward. Not only had I unknowingly stepped in on some date, but now Mom and Jim were trying to negotiate my business dealings.

Mom tsked. “Poor woman! Murdered on a dinner cruise. And her little ones, left behind. What a tragedy!”

I took another swig of wine. This time smaller, more sip-like. This was more like it. The Chianti tasted fruity and smooth. “Oh. The victim wasn’t a mom.”

Galigani and Mom stared at me.

“What do you mean?” Mom asked. “I thought she was running that mommy group you were joining.”

“She was but she didn’t have any children,” I said.

Mom frowned. “What on earth was a woman without kids doing in a mothers’ group?”

Dinner turned out to be fabulous. Galigani served fettuccini with a light garlic cream sauce that he claimed had been approved by his cardiologist. We debated back and forth about a woman we didn’t know and the potential motivation to be involved in a mommy group when you weren’t one.

We came up with a pretty paltry list.

We drank wine and laughed a lot, and thankfully Laurie snoozed in the middle of Galigani’s king-size bed, surrounded by giant pillows to prevent her from falling off. No one seemed to care that Laurie, at only seven weeks, still could not roll over. Somehow, the possibility of her falling off the bed still loomed.

After dinner while getting our coats, I finally summoned my courage. “So, um . . . Galigani, what do you think about my using your license?”

Galigani looked confused. “What do you mean, licenses aren’t transferable.”

“But I could work under yours, right? Like working for you?”