Free Bella Fortuna by Rosanna Chiofalo Page A

ever get out from underneath that cloth.”
    I can still hear him laughing as my mother shuts the door behind him. The lock turns in the door. She’s not taking any more chances.
    I pull the muslin off me and almost lose my balance as I try to stand up. Rita helps me.
    Ma crosses herself as she exclaims, “O, Dio, aiuto. malocchio . . . malocchio.”
    Â 
    Snow is falling again as I glance out Sposa Rosa’s windows. The forecast is only predicting light showers. Lately, I’ve been closing up the shop every night since I’m working on my dress. The Michael Fiasco, as Connie likes to call it, has stirred things up. After my mother ushered him out yesterday morning, she kept telling me I had to make some alterations to the dress so it would be different from the dress Michael had seen.
    â€œYou can’t start a marriage out like that, Valentina. It’s bad luck.”
    â€œOh, Ma. We’re living in the twenty-first century, and you still believe in the mighty evil eye. Give it a rest. I like the dress the way it is. I’m not changing it. Basta! ”
    â€œ Basta? Don’t basta your mother. I say when enough is enough. I won’t be able to get a night’s rest forever if you leave that dress as it is.”
    I knew I wouldn’t get a night’s rest either if I didn’t compromise.
    â€œOkay, okay. I’ll figure something out.”
    As soon as my mother left the shop, I consulted with Rita and Connie.
    â€œWhatever!” Connie rolled her eyes. “You give in to Ma too easily. It’s your wedding. She had hers. Do what you want, Vee.”
    â€œWell, you’re not the one who will have to hear it day in and out for the rest of your life if I don’t make the alterations.” I shook my head. “Of course with my luck, my fiancé has to walk in on me during my fitting.”
    â€œStop it! You’re starting to sound like Ma—bad luck this and that. But yeah, I know what you mean. Who wants their fiancé to see them in their wedding dress months before the wedding?”
    Rita was eating a slice of prosciutto, without any bread. She was on a carb-free diet to look her best in her maid of honor dress. Both she and Connie were going to be my maids of honor. I didn’t want to choose one sister over the other.
    Connie, who was standing behind Rita, slapped her in the back of the head. “Some help you are!”
    â€œI’m just empathizing.”
    Rita went over to one of the fitting room mirrors and patted back down into place her frizz-prone curls.
    â€œI’m sure whatever you decide will be beautiful, Vee. Don’t stress out too much over it. And don’t let Ma get to you!”
    Rita gave me a quick hug. “We have to go. We have a double date with the Broccoli Brothers. Come on, Connie.”
    My eyes widened. “The Broccoli Brothers? How long has this been going on?”
    Rita just smiled and waved as she pushed Connie, who was giggling, toward the door. And here I was thinking they weren’t dating at the moment. I could feel a small pang of hurt at being left out of my sisters’ lives once again. The moment we’d shared jumping and joking together had been quickly extinguished. Just when I thought I was finally entering their inner sanctum, the door was shut on me once again.
    I watched them walking down Ditmars Boulevard, arm in arm, laughing as always—probably about how they’d managed to shock me with their revelation. The Broccoli Brothers were waiting for them outside of the 718 Lounge. I stretched my neck to get a better look outside the window. Both brothers kissed my sisters on the cheeks. I couldn’t see any more once they turned around to enter 718.
    The Broccoli Brothers were John and Lou Rabe, as in the vegetable broccoli rabe. The Mayor of 35th Street had given them this name when they were in high school. Whenever he’d see the two brothers, who lived on