Page 102 of The Killer Cupcake
“Worked on him?” Kathy asked.
"Carmelo never breathed a word about finding Matteo. When Carmelo finally went to his father, he made what he still calls 'the devil's deal'. Kathy, it was all because of that letter. His mother wrote it before she jumped off that bridge. She said Carmelo was born to shield the family, not Matteo, and her sacrifice would guarantee he did it. She knew about you Kathy, and me, and her mind snapped. She demanded Carmelo marry that Italian girl to protect them all. So Carmelo said he negotiated for his brothers like his life depended on it. He'd obey his father completely, box, do whatever if Cosimo kept Nino out of those horrible institutions and found Matteo before the other families did. Mama Stewart spelled it out for us—without this deal, Cosimo would gladly serve Matteo up to all those grieving families just to gain some respectability. His reputation was in the toilet, with all the fractures in his family. The very next day after that wedding, you know what Carmelo did? Threw some clothes in a bag and took off for New Orleans. God’s truth, he did. All that time, Kathy—he was trying to get back to you."
"He came home to her, though. Made babies," Kathy said, the words bitter even as Debbie's story lined up with what Carmelo had told her.
"Twins. And listen to me—it was killing him. He'd drink himself sick every time he had to leave you. Matteo told me Carmelo slept on the floor rather than share her bed. He was saving every penny from those boxing matches, planning to take you away somewhere safe. Then she claimed he got drunk and attacked her. He came to Matteo sobbing like a child, swearing he never touched her, terrified he'd lose you forever. He was coming apart at the seams, Kathy—trying to protect his family while holding onto you with both hands. When those babies came, he panicked. Begged me to keep it from you. He had this wild plan even Matteo didn't know about. He was going to steal from his father's operation and disappear with you to Vegas, hadsome connection with a Jewish gangster out there who'd protect you both."
Kathy went completely still, unable to speak as the truth settled over her like a shroud. She slumped in her seat, finally understanding. Carmelo had tried to tell her—she could see that now—but Aunt Janey’s poison had already taken root. She'd been too furious to consider that maybe, just maybe, none of it had been planned.
"Kathy, honey... I tried everything to stop you from marrying Ely. Phone calls, letters, telegrams. I needed you to understand what was really happening here, but you'd already made up your mind."
The tears came hard and fast. Kathy's head fell forward as the weight of her mistake crushed down on her. “It’s too late. I’m married now, Debs.”
Debbie crossed to Kathy's side of the booth and gathered her close. They held each other the way only women who've known real loss can—fierce and gentle at once. Tears came freely, apologies tumbling over each other until the words themselves became a kind of healing.
"He never stopped loving you," Debbie murmured.
"I know. But it doesn't matter anymore." Kathy's voice was surprisingly calm. "We've been nothing but heartbreak from day one. Ely tried to warn me. You tried. Some loves are just... poison, Debs. I've made my peace with it."
"You're wrong. Everything good in my life—Matteo, Junior—exists because of what you and Carmelo had. That day at Magdalena's, when I almost destroyed my baby, Matteo pulled me back from the edge. That's when I realized we're all connected by something bigger than this prejudice. We can't let their world or ours dictate our happiness."
"Maybe that's true for you. But I've spent three years becoming someone else in Butts. The girl you remember? She'sgone. I don't belong here now. All I have left is my ba—" She stopped abruptly.
Debbie tilted her head, waiting.
"The bakery," Kathy corrected quietly. "Just the bakery and old memories."
"Kat, don't do this?—"
"Brother will be here any minute. We should finish closing."
Debbie sighed deeply but moved away, understanding the dismissal. Left alone, Kathy allowed herself one last moment of grief before locking it away. She'd made her choices, played her part in this mess. Changing the past was impossible, and Carmelo couldn't be her future—not when she had a child to think about. She swore to herself she'd never look back, though even as she made the vow, she recognized its fragility. After all, every promise she'd ever made with her heart had eventually crumbled.
CHAPTER 39
THE DAY OF THE DEAD
The bells of Abyssinian Baptist Church tolled across Harlem like a heartbeat gone slow. From 138th Street to Lenox Avenue, people pressed against police barricades, handkerchiefs dabbing at eyes, voices rising in spontaneous hymns. Pete Freeman was going home.
Debbie had dressed little Junior in a little suit her mother had sewn in her grief. She smoothed his collar again, needing something to do with her hands, needing to avoid the eyes that cut toward her from every direction.
The Abyssinian Baptist Church had never felt smaller. Every pew groaned with Harlem royalty—numbers runners, jazz musicians, politicians, and hustlers all pressed together in their grief. The stained glass windows cast colored shadows across faces twisted with loss and fury. Her father lay in his bronze casket at the altar, and Uncle Henry sat stone-faced in the front row, accepting condolences like a king receiving tribute. He'd stepped into Bumpy's shoes without hesitation, and everyone knew what that meant. Blood would answer blood.
Kathy had almost turned back twice on the church steps. The last time she'd been inside Abyssinian, she'd been seventeen and in love with a boy her family called an enemy. Now she wastwenty, married to another man, carrying Carmelo Ricci's child beneath her black mourning dress. Ely guided her to a middle pew, his presence both shield and reminder of how thoroughly she'd destroyed her life. The organ swelled with "Precious Lord," and she gripped the pew in front of her, nauseated by more than pregnancy. Somewhere in this crowd were men who'd kill her, despite who her father was, if they knew whose baby grew inside her. Somewhere outside, even more men circled Queens, ready to strike first against the Riccis and ignite the never-ending war between Harlem and Queens. The war everyone whispered about had already begun; they didn't know she carried its future in her womb.
The funeral passedin a haze of hymns and tears, both Kathy and Debbie trapped in their private agonies. When Claire's tremors worsened, Debbie pressed Junior into Kathy's arms without a word. Her mother's illness couldn't handle this kind of stress—already Claire could barely hold herself upright, her body betraying her in waves of distress.
"I'm here, Mama," Debbie whispered, supporting her mother's shaking frame. "I've got you."
Kathy bounced Junior gently, grateful for the distraction of his fussing as she watched her own parents. Her father sat like a monument—back straight, eyes fixed on his brother's casket. Her mother's hand moved from his neck to the space between his shoulder blades, her lips moving in what Kathy knew were words of comfort. But Henry Freeman might as well have been carved from marble for all the response he gave.
The procession from church to cemetery felt like a small mercy. Settled in the back of the chauffeured car, Kathy finallylet herself breathe. She'd survived the church service. Now just the graveside ceremony remained before she could retreat to the bakery—her only refuge from the chaos threatening to swallow her whole.
"You okay?" Ely's voice was gentle.
She glanced up at him, Junior warm and heavy against her chest. When Ely reached over to cradle the baby's tiny hand, she saw it again—that soft light in his eyes whenever he was near children. It was why she'd chosen him. In Butts, he'd built more than a school and recreation center; he'd created a world where forgotten children mattered. Every swimming hole cleared, every baseball diamond carved from nothing was proof of the father he'd be.
"I'm worried about Aunt Claire," she admitted. "And Debbie."
