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strong and weak points, pointing out the latter at Shuttle Air. Christina was concerned about many of the same things and also surprised at how well versed Juni was on the industry. “Maybe we should get together some time for dinner and discuss airlines in depth,” Christina suggested, handing him her Shuttle Air business card containing her home number.

A short time later David coolly let her know it was time to leave. They bid their goodbyes and while strolling to the car she told him, “That was a totally new experience for me and the food was fantastic.” David didn’t respond. They again drove in silence until Christina spoke. “Out of everyone I met, your Uncle Juni was the most interesting.” David just kept glaring at the road with both hands seemingly glued to the wheel in the ten and two o’clock positions. She continued. “He knew a lot about airlines and mentioned he used to work for a bank. But his business card says bakery owner. What’s up?”

“You did seem to really enjoy his company,” David snapped.

“What..?”

“How come you gave him your phone number?”

“You are one jealous person. The man has lots of background on the airlines and it would be interesting to hear his thoughts on Shuttle Air’s future.”

“Over dinner?”

“I didn’t know I was bound by the rules of Emily Post etiquette. Speaking of which, I thought you weren’t supposed to tell anyone about my job? Every person there knew.” There was no response. Christina didn’t mention Juni might be an unanticipated key to a vital need.

After another briefer period of silence a now-chastised David haltingly offered, “Juni’s my mother’s brother. His real name is Angelo Rosario, but goes by that nickname. He’s married to Angela, the fat redheaded bimbo in the blue dress. They live in a split level in Lake Hopatcong, New Jersey probably mortgaged to the hilt and have a couple of kids; a boy who’s about seventeen, Antonio, and a younger girl, Andrea. I call them the A family, as in assholes. There’s lots of stuff I don’t know about him; a lot in his past, yet nothing at all. You know what I mean?”

“No.”

“Well, he owes some family members more than a few bucks and hasn’t repaid. I figured he’d seek you out because long ago I dubbed him the family’s closet WASP.”

“A what?”

“A person who’s not happy with being Italian. He was grandma’s smartest kid and the only one to attend college, which he did the right way and went to Princeton on a scholarship. He told everyone he went there to break out of the Italian stereotype, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Right after graduation he started working as a top-level officer at some Wall Street investment bank and lots of relatives went out of their way to kiss his ass, probably figuring some of his money magic might rub off.”

“He’s very easy to speak with.”

David eyed her suspiciously. “Just be careful. I suspect there’s more there. Maybe he’s still just a gavone from Bay Ridge? Lots of folks used to pick on him because he was short and dumpy, but overnight he was transformed and had the respect of the same people who used to laugh at him. He appeared to have a respectable, law-abiding lifestyle, supposedly on his way up the corporate ladder when somethin’ happened.”

“What?”

“The details were kept secret, but I do know that out of the blue he wasn’t with the bank any longer and opened a bakery that’s not doing well.”

“Was he fired?”

“I overheard conversations about some missing money and he was one of the prime suspects.”

“Did he go to jail? You think he took it?”

“He never went to jail and I don’t really know, or care, if he did,” David added with a shrug of his hefty shoulders. “But there’s something else, an obnoxious attitude he has that I can’t put my finger on. It’s like he’s angry at the entire world.”

David’s comments about his uncle made him the perfect candidate.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Christina purchased a reduced rate airline employee ticket and went on one of Northwest Airlines hourly flights from LaGuardia to Minneapolis to meet with Laurel. It was a Sunday morning, so she dressed comfortably in a light-colored skirt and dark blouse and buzzed through security. There was plenty of room on the Boeing 727 jet and an apprehensive Christina had an entire row to herself. She spent most of the two and a half-hour flight contemplating what she would say and how she would say it. As the jet began its long descent for landing Christina observed what appeared to be thousands of black holes, which were actually lakes, stretching as far as the eye could see. Recalling the State of Minnesota’s license plates identified it as the Land of 10,000 Lakes, she wanted to find the deepest one and jump in wondering how Laurel would react to her newfound knowledge. They pulled into the gate and Christina stood when the seat belt sign was extinguished, but allowed all the other passengers disembark first, hesitating. Was she about to crash while meeting her daughter for the very first time? Perhaps she instead should return home immediately. Everything in her life is always complicated. Christina finally mustered the courage to get off and spotted Mimi, a shorter, older woman with dark hair and crystal-blue eyes, exactly the same as she remembered her from a lifetime ago. Although Mimi was attention-grabbing in her colorful dress with the floral pattern, she also wore her gloomy mood like a black necklace draped around her neck. The object of Christina’s journey was standing alongside Mimi and she immediately recalled what it was like to carry her precious life. Laurel was stunning, a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty dressed in tight-fitting slacks and a white midriff blouse tied around her thin waist. Her resemblance to Christina was uncanny, so much so it was as if she had turned back the clock and was staring at herself. Memories of

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