Free The Minnesota Candidate by Nicholas Antinozzi

road
in the Saint Anthony district, the oldest in the city. Tom drove
past Prachna on Main, rumored to be the oldest restaurant on the
oldest street in Minneapolis. “Nice neighborhood,” said Tom.
    “Someday,” said Sam, pointing to the old
restaurant, “I’m going to take you and Shari out to eat, there. The
food smells incredible. You should see the people when they walk
out of that joint. You can just tell that they ate some good
chow.”
    “I look forward to it, Sam,” said Tom, pulling
over to the curb and shifting the Mercedes into park.
    “I don’t know how to thank you,” said Sam. “And
I don’t want to start cryin’, so I’m just gonna say goodbye. Thanks
for believin’ in me. You have my number, right?”
    Tom assured Sam that he did and he watched as
Sam hauled out his things. There wasn’t much. All too soon, Sam was
walking down the sidewalk. He was a pathetic sight and Tom had to
stop himself from chasing him down. Tom felt his phone buzzing and
he answered it.
    “I need you to pick up some eggs,” barked his
mother. “What kind of a woman doesn’t have eggs in her
refrigerator?”
    Tom sighed, watching as Sam disappeared behind a
row of lilac bushes. “I’ll pick some up.”
    “I’m also out of toothpaste.”
    “Go into my bathroom, Ma. We have plenty of
toothpaste.”
    “I already did and you don’t have any Colgate.
You know I only brush my teeth with Colgate.”
    “Fine, I’ll pick you up some Colgate. Do you
need anything else?”
    “No, I don’t need anything else! Why do you have
to always make me feel bad when I have to ask you for something? I
am your mother, you know. I did carry you in my stomach for nine
miserable months.”
    “Ma, I’ve got to go, I’m driving. I’ll see you
in a little bit.”
    There was something else, but Tom didn’t hear
it. He disconnected the call and stuffed the phone back into his
pocket. He drove away, thinking about what Sam had said about
Italian men and their wives. He then thought of Shari.

Chapter 6

    For the next three days, Shari buried herself in
her project. She was up and out of the house before the sun rose,
not returning home until well after dark. Everything was right on
schedule and even the weather cooperated, delivering blue sky and
mild temperatures. Doris had given up dropping hints about moving
into the big house. This didn’t mean she had given up. She decided
to try a different approach to getting what she wanted. She began
smothering Tom and Shari with kindness. She cooked and cleaned and
gardened, and most importantly, she kept a lid on her sarcastic
remarks.
    By Wednesday, things on the construction site
were really ramping up. What was left of the old house had been
demolished and hauled away. The concrete had been poured and the
block work for the foundation had been completed. A team of
carpenters, including Sam Calizzi, descended upon the building site
and they began to frame up the house. Initially, the framing crew
didn’t know what to make of Sam, but he soon proved himself to be
an asset to their team. The foreman put him on a saw and each of
Sam’s cuts was right on the money. When he wasn’t cutting, he was
assisting the other workers. He cracked jokes and told stories and
by the end of the first day, everyone working on the project was on
a first name basis with Sam.
    The two story house was much larger than the old
house had been. Neighbors stood behind yellow police tape and
watched in wonder as the new house rose from the ashes. By 7:00
Wednesday evening, the house was framed and the roof and exterior
walls were sheeted. Shari shared all of this with Tom as they got
ready for bed that night. “I think she’s going to love it,” said
Shari, drying her freshly washed face with a white towel.
    “I know she’s going to love it,” agreed Tom.
    Shari smiled and then she looked around their
spotless bedroom. “Did Helen come in today?” she asked. Helen Moore
was Shari’s housekeeper and her