14
Richie, you’re here so early. What’s wrong?” Carmela said the next morning as she opened the door to her flat. She was still wearing a bathrobe and hadn’t yet put on her make-up. She patted her hair. Even first thing in the morning, it still resembled a stiff helmet, except that one side of it—the side she must have slept on—was squashed down. Combing it probably consisted of doing whatever it took to make it round again.
“I have to talk to you.” He walked straight into the kitchen and sat at the table.
“You want coffee, Richie?” she asked, pouring him a cup before he even answered. “What’s happening? A new girlfriend maybe?” She put the cup in front of him. “You aren’t here so early to give me some good news are you?”
“Of course not, Ma. Sit down.”
“Sit? How can I sit? Did you eat
