Free Tea for Two by Janice Thompson

where a man with salt and pepper hair sat across from Mrs. Hightower, one of the island’s most well-to-do women. “That’s a Mr. Jamison from New York City. Yep, New York City, sitting right here in Parma Johns on Galveston Island. He works for the New York Times . We’re going to be famous, thanks to this wedding.” He straightened his tie. “Do I look alright? I don’t have pizza sauce on my face, do I?”
    “You look fine. But why is he talking to Mrs. Hightower?” I asked.
    “Because she’s the head of the Republican Women’s League here in Galveston, so he thinks he can get some information out of her. This is all so exciting. I mean, your little wedding facility is really putting Galveston on the map. But you owe us all an apology for not cluing us in sooner. Shame on you.”
    I wasn’t sure which irritated me more—the fact that he called Club Wed a ‘little’ facility, or the idea that he thought I was just now putting Galveston on the map. Hadn’t we already done that when Brock Benson—star of stage and screen—came to town? And what was up with this reporter dude sailing into town and blowing our cover? I had a bone to pick with him and I felt sure the Secret Service would, too.
    My uncle walked up just in time to hear the end of our conversation. “Did you say a reporter is here?” Uncle Laz looked around. He pulled off his apron and brushed the flour off of his pants. “How do I look?”
    “What do you mean, how do you look?” I gave him a warning. “What does that matter?”
    “I need to talk to him. Share a few things about my campaign. You know, Bella. Political stuff. Maybe he can help me get the word out about the Food Party.”
    I groaned but didn’t bother to stop him. Uncle Laz headed the fellow’s way and before long had him engaged in conversation. I couldn’t be sure what my uncle was saying to him, but he got the fellow laughing.
    I turned toward the bakery but before I could get there, Mama and Aunt Rosa approached.
    “Bella-Bambina!” Mama wrapped me in a warm hug. “I didn’t know you were coming to Parma Johns today. Rosa and I were just about to have lunch. Join us?”
    “Maybe, but first I have to talk to Scarlet. And you two probably need to do something about Uncle Laz.”
    “Laz?” Rosa looked perplexed. “Where is he?”
    “Talking to that reporter from the New York Times .” I gestured and my aunt gasped.
    “Reporter? What in the world?” She took off in the direction of Laz, who had taken Mrs. Hightower’s seat across from the reporter. Curious, I followed behind her. Mama tagged along on my heels. We got to the table just in time to hear Laz say something that made the fellow laugh.
    “I’m just so sad that so many candidates are dropping out of the race,” Laz added after the fellow calmed down.
    “Why?” the reporter asked. “It narrows the field, which is good. On the democratic side they only have a handful of candidates. On the Republican side they’ve had, like, four hundred. It gets confusing when there are so many.”
    “Still, I hate to lose them as competition,” Laz said. “I don’t want my race to the White House to be too easy. I want people to know I won fair and square, not because some of the fellas gave up before their time. You know?”
    Before long the entire Rossi clan had gathered around the reporter. How could I give this stranger a piece of my mind if my family members kept feeding him information? On the other hand, wouldn’t it be better if I stayed ‘on the down-low’ as the Secret Service guys had said? Yes, I’d stay out of the guy’s sightline and avoid his questions altogether.
    One by one my parents and siblings shared their thoughts on the election and the candidates. I wanted to hide under a table as the squabbling began. Only Armando refrained from participating, stating that he wasn’t registered to vote.
    “Not registered to vote?” Rosa fanned herself. “Our children and grandchildren are