SERIES: Italiano Song

PART: 3 of 6

RATING: PG (Adult thematic material)

PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; F/E; some Shirley/Anthony DeFazio

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine.  Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

 

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

CATEGORY: Romance

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: During "Festival," after part one and just before part two; some alternate material from the established canon for the episodes.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: What if Laverne's grandmother had taken a shine to Lenny instead of Squiggy during "The Festival"? 

NOTES: Basically follows the events and timeline of "The Festival," though using some alternate material.

 

****

 

In his two days of being a Brooklynite, Lenny had learned one thing - that Italians knew how to cook.  The meaty, herby fragrance of sausages wafting down Newbury Street from the open doors of Grandma DeFazio's favorite marker acted as a refresher course, and Lenny's hangdog stride, a reaction to Laverne’s angry words, became longer.  He left her behind and in the rain, pushing open the door of San Angelo's Market with a jingle.

 

Lenny couldn’t help but let out a loud “Wow!” as he took in the beautifully organized and maintained store, and was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pretty-looking stuff in his surroundings.  The place was much bigger than their usual supermarket in Milwaukee - all in one location were the butcher, cheesemaker, baker and green grocer.  That was a true wonderment - an entire town in one store.  He examined the stacks of organized cans like an eager toddler, and had picked up an oddly-shaped melon to figure out how someone would eat it when he heard a door slam.

 

“Lenny!” her voice made his hands clumsy; the melon tipped end-over-end and fell with a bounce to a pile with its brethren.   

 

While Laverne’s voice was menacing, the sight of her was hilarious; she’d borrowed Shirley’s rain bonnet and her grandmother’s overcoat, which slumped down past her kneecaps.  As he laughed, it dawned on Lenny that  it was his fault she was soaked to the bone. 

 

His expression changed to one of concern.  "I'm sorry..."

 

"Forget it." Laverne whapped him in the chest with her pocketbook - Lenny 'oofed' in response - and pushed past him to the cheese section.  He followed, never more than a step behind, though occasionally distracted by something shiny or unusually-shaped. 

 

Laverne crouched over the glass-and-steel dairy case, where an assortment of cheeses were attractively stacked.   "Here we go." She scooped a large, orange round out of the rabble, listing backward at the added weight.  Laverne strained, regaining her momentum and boosting the wheel into Lenny's arms, then pulling her purse free of his grip.  The acrobatics required for those tasks nearly sent him to the floor, yet Lenny managed to keep his balance and the cheese.  Laverne headed over to the vegetables while Lenny waddled along beside her.

 

Bending over the pile of bright red tomatoes, Laverne plucked two from the jumble and began examining them with learned fingers.  Then she sniffed the tips, her expression more suited, Lenny thought, for surgery or holy miracles.  She tossed one back, and then picked up another, performing the same ritual.  After fifteen minutes she nodded, dropped one into the pile, and placed the other in the crook of her arm.

 

Lenny couldn't take it.  "Laverne, you're doin' it wrong!"

 

She ground her teeth.

 

"You ain't supposed to sniff tomatoes - you're supposed to pinch 'em.  If the skins're thin, then they're too ripe..."

 

She dropped the vegetables, sending them bouncing back into the mound and causing a chain reaction.  The fruit rolled to the floor and surrounded their feet.  "See what you made me do?"

 

Lenny frowned, the weight of the cheese almost pitching him forward as he bent to help her re-stack the tomatoes.  "Who spat in your cornflakes today?"

 

"Look in a mirror."

 

He pouted.  "You don't gotta be mean, Laverne - it ain't my fault your grandma saw through your dumb lie."

 

"It wasn't dumb, and she woulda never found out if you hadn't told on me!"

 

"We ain't little kids no more, and that's a little-kid excuse.  You know it ain't right to lie to your grandma,   she's a real nice lady."

 

Laverne jerked to a standing position, her feet bratily stomping down on two overripe tomatoes.  "If you think you know so much, Len, why don't ya find the tomatoes without me?"

 

"FINE!"  With Lenny's angry words, she flounced away to attend to the final item on their list.  Stone-faced, Lenny finished cleaning up the tomatoes and gathered six more to buy using his own method.  When he finished, he went in search of Laverne, and found her standing in line at the checkout stand.

 

Her eyes were cool as she tried to carry both her purse and six zucchini to the counter.  Lenny stared straight ahead, jaw locked but his anger melting.  He felt Laverne's body heat - heard a little grunt from her as she balanced on her toes in her high heels.  Looking down and she was trying to peer over his forearm and examine the tomatoes, his last thread of anger melted away. 

 

"They look good," she begrudged.

 

"Told ya.  My method's foolproof."

 

"Figures," Laverne muttered.   They stepped up to the counter together and laid out their goods. She seemed to recognize their clerk, and he recognized Laverne - the stout old man's cheeks turned cherry red and he came around the corner, speaking a flood of words in Italian.

 

Lenny stood aside as they hugged, confused to the rapid patter of language.  Laverne managed a 'hi' in what might pass for Italian as the older man patted her cheek and cried 'bella!'.

 

"Len, this is Mister Agranastio - he lives under my Grandma."

 

An expression of surprise crossed Lenny's face.  "Where's she been hidin' him?  'Cause me and Squig went through the closet yesterday morning and there weren't no one...."

 

"Never mind."

 

Mister Agranastio gestured toward Lenny, smiled, and shook his hand.  With a heavy accent, he said, "you take good care of Laverne."

 

"Uh...yeah."  Lenny tried to hide his confusion.  Mister Agranastio ended the handshake, heading back behind the counter and picking up a pen to figure out their total.  As he did so, Lenny tried to make eye contact with Laverne, but she had picked up a copy of True Confessions and was busy reading it.  Lenny shrugged and settled for oggling Ann-Margaret over Laverne's shoulder. 

 

Even upside-down, that girl was a babe.

 

Before the upside-down part could register with Lenny, Mister Agranastio pushed his figuring pad toward him.  Lenny poked Laverne.  "He wants five dollars."

 

She jumped.  "Huh?"

 

"It came to five dollars."

 

Laverne smiled abashedly, putting the magazine back and unclasping her purse.  "Liz is dating Rock Hudson," she said, then handed Mister Agranastio a five.

 

The older man pulled the lever on his antique cash register and he placed the money inside, then he handed Laverne a bright penny.

 

"Oh, you don't have to, Mister..."

 

Another rapid string of Italian words.   "Okay...Gracias...I mean, Gratzi."  Mister Agranastio gestured toward the stack of paper sacks next to the register, then back to the food - that meant they had to bag the groceries with those sacks.

 

Lenny selected one, blew it open and started randomly arranging the food.  He stopped when Laverne's hand encircled his wrist.

 

"You don't put the cheese there, Len - it'll squish the tomatoes," she pushed the cheese against the bag's left side, then propped it up with the bag of zucchinis.  The tomatoes were placed last, directly on top.  

 

Lenny folded the bag over and picked it up.  "Thanks, Vernie."

 

Her smile was tentative.  "Welcome." 

 

Though the rain had ceased to a trickle as they left the store the air still felt thick and humid, clinging to Lenny's skin like a sweater.     Laverne matched his stride down the walkway, and she broke the ice between them.

 

"I'm sorry I yelled."

 

"S'Ok.  I'm used to it."

 

"But you were right - those tomatoes are good." She stuffed her left hand in the pocket of her jeans.  "I acted like a brat back there, Len.  I guess commin' back to Brooklyn is harder than I thought it'd be," she admitted. 

 

"Why?"

 

"No dates, lousy weather, my Pop's gonna kill himself in that pole climbing contest, and everyone automatically thinks I'm married, just 'cause I'm old enough to BE married."

 

"That's not fair.  And it wasn't nice of that mister agent-yo to..."

 

"Mister Argentio is a nice guy." Laverne interrupted.

 

"He wasn't mad we mashed his tomatoes?"

 

"I dunno - I can't speak Italian.  My point's that they just want me to be happy."

 

 "That's nice an' all - but not being married don't make you a bad person or somethin'."

 

"I know that."

 

"Then why didn't you tell your grandma the truth in the first place?"

 

"'Cause it makes her worry - watch her when we get back.  She'll start trying to fix me up with anything nice, tall, and in pants.  How could I turn down her hopes like that?  I can't even tell her I don't speak Italian."

 

"But the truth's gonna come out, Vernie.  Mark my words."

 

"No it won't.  All I gotta do is smile and nod a lot.  And as long as she thinks I'm happy it'll be okay."

 

"Are you happy?"

 

"Yeah."  Her tone didn't convince him.

 

"You said 'think'. Do you think you're happy?"

 

"I meant 'am,'" she said brusquely.

 

"Oh.  'Cause I always thought you were happy...just guessin' from listening through the dumbwaiter during your heavy dates."

 

"Len..."

 

Something caught his eye, and he stopped dead before an alleyway.  Lenny's hand encircled her forearm, bringing her to a stop.  "You see that?"

 

Her eyes darted - they stood in a gutter next to a drain.  "What?"

 

He squinted through the misty gloom - then tugged again.  "There!"

 

Laverne's eyes widened.  "Len, I don't wanna stand in the middle of the street...it's rainin', and hot, and the rats are fifty pounds in this neighborhood..."

 

"It ain't a rat, Vernie!"  He dragged her down the path by the wrist.

 

"Are you crazy?  We're gonna get mugged!"

 

"What're you scared about?  You know how to fight.  You're the best gal fighter I've seen since Peaches Pfontaine!"  He released her, pressing the sack into her hands.

 

"But you can't punch a guy holding a gun!" Lenny turned from the conversation and ducked behind a dumpster.  "Len!  You're gonna get bit!"

 

"No I ain't!"  His voice echoed.

 

"Whatt're you doing?"  Silence.  "What'd you see?   Jar of sauerkraut make you homesick?" She snickered.

 

"Come look."

 

Laverne crossed the distance between them.  "I don't wanna make out - " she trailed off at the sight before her.

 

Lenny crouched over a shaggy form curled up against the dumpster.   The creature visibly breathed - Laverne absently realized it was a german sheppard, about three years old -  but its thin frame and dirty fur spoke of horrid neglect.   Lenny didn't notice Laverne's pause - he worked furiously at untying the sheep shank knot anchoring the dog's clothesline leash to the trash unit.   

 

"Len, be careful..." she urged.

 

"Why?"

 

"It might bite..."

 

"Nah.  She's a nice girl."

 

"She?"

 

"Stay still, honey - I'll help you."  As if in agreement, the dog tentatively lapped at Lenny's wrist while he worked on the knot.

 

Laverne knelt beside him, holding out her hand.  The dog watched her warily.  "Hi.  You're a nice girl, aren't ya?"  The dog lifted its head and flicked its tongue weakly against her wrist - confirmation enough that Lenny's instincts were right. 

 

While Laverne patted the dog's head, Lenny gave the leash one strong yank and it fell apart in his hands.  Lenny sighed from the exertion, watching Laverne gently stroke the dog.

 

"How long you think she's been out here?"

 

"I dunno," Laverne said.  "She's real thin.  Maybe a few weeks."  She heard Lenny let out a muffled curse.  "But we got here in time - she don't seem sick, just hungry.  The people at the pound will..."

 

Lenny pulled back protectively.  "Maggie ain't goin' to no pound!"

 

"Len - she ain't yours, you can't name her."

 

"I don't see anyone else makin' a claim!"

 

"You can't take care of a dog!"

 

"Why not?"

 

"'Cause you couldn't even take care of a turtle!"

 

"Don't you bring poor Myron's name into this!"

 

"What about Squig?  You live with him - don't he deserve a say in this?"

 

"He never asked me if I wanted to live with a bunch of moths," Lenny replied.  "Confidentially, Laverne, they all give me the creeps -  I dunno why a guy as cool as Squiggy would wanna live with bugs!"

 

Laverne chuckled, then shook her head.  "Whatt'm I laughing at?  This is never gonna work out, Len."

 

Lenny cupped the dog's bearded muzzle and pointed it toward Laverne.  "Can you resist those eyes?"

 

She looked down into them - brandy-colored, with black irises - dazed, vulnerable, and sweet.  "Aww geez..."

 

 

***

 

"Of course, you may keep her here!"

 

Laverne knew that her grandmother would never deny a dog a home, but her pleasure at the animal's presence was surprising - Grandma DeFazio had only owned cats, as far as she knew.  The older woman stooped to pet the dog behind her soggy ears, and Maggie remained still for a moment - unsure - then leaned into the elderly woman's touch. 

 

"Laverne, we must get -"

 

"Maggie," Lenny put in.

 

"-Maggie supper and some water." She unbent herself, wincing at a twinge in her arthritic back.

 

"What about dinner?  I got you some nice zucchini, Grandma..."

 

Grandma DeFazio took the sack from Laverne and examined its contents.  "Ahh, they are ripe and firm!  And the tomatoes are perfect."

 

"Lenny got the tomatoes," Laverne admitted.

 

"Leonardo, you are skilled beyond your years!"

 

"Aww, Mrs. DeFazio!"

 

"I am not false flatterer," she smiled, folding the sack down.  "You both did very well.  But your father - he called from the drug store - 'don't bother with dinner, Mama, I'll take care of it, Mama'  - he's bringing home a pizza!"

 

"You mean I got all wet for nothing?" Laverne whined.

 

"Bah!  If I had not sent you, you would not have found Maggie!"  She patted the dog affectionately, and Maggie soaked up the sudden attention.  Turning for the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, "come along, Laverne."

 

As automatically as Maggie might, Laverne followed her Grandmother into the kitchen.

 

There, Mrs. DeFazio rummaged through her refrigerator while Laverne - paralyzed of further motion - stood alone at the center of the room.  It only took a minute for the older woman to emerge with a Tupperware container filled with leftover meatballs, and then she noticed her granddaughter standing in the middle of the kitchen and tisked her.  "Bambina, run the water.  And take off that raincoat - it's soaking the floor!"

 

Robotically, Laverne stripped off the coat and rain bonnet and draped them on a peg near the radiator.   "Sorry, I was thinkin'."  She headed to the sink and opened the taps.

 

Grandma DeFazio's smile was all-knowing, and went uncommented on by her granddaughter.  "You had a nice time with Leonardo, no?"

 

Laverne's shoulders stiffened.  "It was okay."

 

"I saw your hand in his when you came inside."  Laverne, still as a rock, made no reply.  "It is fine, bambina.  I understand the desires of a woman -"

 

Laverne's cheeks blazed.  "Lenny's my friend.  That's all."

 

"Ahh..." Grandma appeared by Laverne's elbow, pressing a small plastic bowl against her palm. 

 

Though she tried to suppress it, sharpness poked through Laverne's tone when she replied, "Ahh?"

 

"Nothing."  The older woman wiped her palms against her apron and returned to the meatballs. 

 

Laverne felt heat creep through her throat - in a tone that she would later be ashamed of, she turned to the older woman and said plainly, "Lenny's a nice guy - too nice of a guy to lead on."

 

The older woman's sharp tone rebuked her granddaughter.  "Do not take that tone with me, princessa."

 

Laverne's cheeks colored.  "I'm sorry.  I just don't want ya to get your hopes up..."

 

"Hopes?  I keep no hopes - but dreams, I have."  She picked up the meatballs and headed out the kitchen.  "Do not waste water, Bambina - every lost drop makes a high cost."

 

Laverne flicked the taps closed, anger warring with shame inside of her mind.  Her grandmother had no right to wheedle and insinuate about her love life - but her sense of respect and love for the old woman were great.  She had been harsh, sharp of tongue - her worst qualities on display.

 

Her head bowed, she entered the living room and gingerly placed the dish of water at Maggie's side.  The ravenous dog was already nearly finished with the meatballs and dunked her bearded chin in the water, lapping away at the dish with her pink tongue.

 

"Poor thing - how she must have suffered with the heat..."  Mrs. DeFazio worried, sitting on her couch.

 

Lenny, who had been hovering anxiously over Maggie, took a seat beside Laverne's grandmother, his shoulders slumped in relief.  Laverne settled lazily to her Grandmother's left.  Their silence communicated the mutual realization that the most important thing right now was Maggie's well-being - and it was her sudden bark and abrupt dart to the door that shook them out of their mutual ennui.

 

"Maggie!" Lenny called sharply - despite Lenny's commanding tone she blocked the doorjamb, barking and wagging her tail.  He stopped her from exiting the room by angling his legs around her body and opening the door - and being smacked in the jaw by a box of pizza.

 

Confusion showed on Frank's features.  "Edna, do we got the right place?"

 

"Honestly, Frank - you can't confuse our madhouse with any other madhouse on the planet!"  Edna stumbled over Maggie, who lapped curiously at her hand.

 

"The pizzas go on the table!" Mrs. DeFazio called.

 

"Forget the pizzas - where did the dog come from?" Now that Lenny had possession of the pies, Frank could see the german sheppard as she leaned against Edna's skirt-covered legs.

 

"Leonardo found her in the rain." Explained Mrs. DeFazio, as she laid four plates upon the tables and began slicing away at the pepperoni pizza with a butter knife.

 

"Yeah, she was cold and hungry - ain't no tags on her, either."

 

Edna patted the dog with detached kindness.  "Are you waiting for the pound to get her?"

 

"No, Missus Babbish," Lenny stuffed his hands into his pockets and tried to appear his most appealing.  "I wanna keep her."

 

Edna's expression darkened.  "Lenny, I think it's only fair of me to warn you - you and Squiggy have been skating on thin ice with me for the past three years..."

 

"But Missus Babbish..."

 

"And I've rejected better tenants just because they had a cat - "

 

"She needs me, Missus B."  Lenny said.  His tone was surprisingly strong, and Laverne noticed that Edna seemed somewhat taken aback by his firmness.  "You've been real good to me and Squig, and I know we ain't been the best apartment-living-guys.  But I ain't doin' this for me," he gestured toward the dog.  "I'm doin' it to keep Maggie safe."

 

"You named her?" Edna's stiff mask wavered.

 

"It ain't right for anyone to go without a name," Lenny said - his words and tone making a sentence simultaneously innocent and wise. 

 

"I don't know..."

 

"I'll vouch for him," Laverne said, rising from the couch.  Everyone - especially Lenny - seemed surprised by her outburst. 

 

"You know what you're sayin'?" Lenny asked.  

 

She didn't seem to hear him.  "If Maggie does anything that wrecks their apartment - any more than it's already wrecked - you can take it out on my cleaning deposit."

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Edna worried.  "Shouldn't you talk about it with Shirley?"

 

Laverne smirked.  "It's her fault they live in your building.  'Sides, Shirl can't resist helpless animals."

 

The door slammed open.  "Hello!"

 

Maggie barked, trotting happily up to Squiggy.  The shorter man kept his arms wide open, alarmed by the furry creature's appearance.  "You were right, Len - she was hidin' the Abdominal Snowman under the floorboards!"

 

"That ain't the Abdominal Snowman - it's a dog."

 

"I knew that!" Maggie sniffed vigorously at Squiggy's pant leg, and Andrew made no move toward the dog.  "I just got confused - I ain't seen that much fur since we dated the Nussbaum Twins."

 

Lenny bit his palm and Squiggy chuckled.

 

"So, who's it belong to?"

 

"Who?"

 

"The dog, dummy, the dog."

 

"Don't call me a dummy, or I won't let ya brush her!"

 

"Who says I wanna brush the dumb dog?"

 

"Don't you call my dog dumb either, you jerk!"

 

"Did he just say it was his dog?'" Squiggy asked Laverne.

 

"Yep."

 

"Who said I wanted a dog?"

 

"Who said I wanted moths?"

 

Squiggy's jaw dropped open.  "You said you loved Andie and Baggy and Chirpy and Chirpy Junior and..."

 

"It's called bein' nice, Squig!"

 

"It's called lyin', Len!"

 

"Boys, don't fight," Laverne ordered.

 

They both gave her the most venomous of looks.  But Laverne noticed that Lenny's eyes softened when they fell on her - and showed total weakness when they found her grandmother. 

 

"I ain't gonna back down on this, Squig.  I'm keepin' Maggie," he said, his tone even.

 

"You named her Maggie?"

 

"Why does everyone keep asking me -"

 

"Maggie is a pretty name - Laverne's great grand aunt's first name was Margaretta.  In America, we called her Maggie."

 

"Wow - it musta been hard, havin' two names," Squiggy thought aloud.

 

"Maggie wore them well - she was a woman ahead of her time.  Much like my bambina." Laverne's grandmother flipped a slice of pepperoni-laden pizza onto a paper plate, and then held out the enticing piece to Squiggy.  "Are you not hungry, Andrew?"

 

"Uhmm.."

 

"Do you not wish for a nice, big meal?" She wove the pizza beneath his nose, and then pulled it tantalizingly away.

 

Squiggy followed the pizza, his body bobbing.  "Yeah..."

 

"Do you not wish for Maggie to have a nice home with Leonardo?"

 

"Yes..." he muttered, zombie like.

 

"Then here is your pizza!" Grandma DeFazio handed the slice to Squiggy.  Andrew took the plate, his eyes welded to the steaming slice of pie.

 

Lenny turned to Laverne and asked, "how did she do that?"

 

"I wish I knew," Laverne snorted.    They moved toward her grandmother's table to receive their own dinner.

 

Yawning, Shirley emerged from the bedroom.  "What is that wonderful smell?  I'm famished!"

 

Squiggy's boisterous chuckle cut through Laverne's attempted warning.  "I see London, I see France, I see Shirley Feeney's underpants!"

 

Shirley's eyes bugged out.  Covering her slip-clad bosom, she shrieked her way back to the bedroom.

 

As Lenny and Squiggy hooted and congratulated each other Laverne asked her grandmother, "you see that?"

 

Grandmother DeFazio chuckled.  "They were only having fun, bambina."

 

"At Shirl's expense." She pulled a slice of pizza out of the box, watching the mozzarella make a stringy curtain as she placed it on her plate.  Laverne crimped the dangling cheese off of her slice of pie with a fingernail.  "That's why I don't go with Lenny."

 

"Perhaps there is more to the book than its cover."

 

Laverne snorted.  "That's what he's always sayin': 'I'm a pretty deep guy, Laverne - you don't know me, Laverne.  I know him, all right - I've known him since we were kids, and in fifteen years he ain't changed once!"

 

"Do not be upset - you will get indigestion," Grandma DeFazio retrieved a piece of pizza for herself, closed the box, and clapped her hands together.  "I will get the baby pictures!"

 

"Aww, not the baby pictures," Laverne whined.  But her Grandmother rushed over to the china closet and opened it up, pulling out two leather-bound volumes.  The gang gathered around her as the older woman carefully settled onto the couch - Laverne at her grandmother's right, Lenny beside her, Frank in the neighboring easy chair, Squiggy on the floor cross-legged, and Edna on a chair pulled over from the dining room table, with Maggie lying between the coffee table and couch. 

 

She flipped open a heavy volume, and on first sight of Laverne's infant form, Squiggy let out a piercing guffhaw.  "Hey, who's the shrimp?"

 

"Me!" Laverne replied.

 

He laughed.  "That can't be you!  That person's a baby, and you're sixty million miles taller than that!"

 

"These are old pictures, Squiggy." Lenny explained.

 

"Don't try to make me more mixed up!"

 

"Yeah, you're mixed up enough as it is."

 

Squiggy pouted - until Grandmother DeFazio placed another slice of pizza on his plate.

 

Grandmother DeFazio gently flipped the yellowed pages, pausing before a picture of Laverne as a baby, bare-bottomed on a fur rug.

 

"My pretty bambina," Mrs. DeFazio sniffled.  "How big you've gotten!"

 

"Hey, I always knew there was nudie shots of Laverne somewhere!" Squiggy crowed - and then received a light kick to the back from Lenny.  The blond ignored Squiggy's complaint and squinted down at the pictures in the album.

 

"Look at this one - Laverne DeFazio, twelve years old - hey, I remember that haircut!"

 

Laverne winced at the living memory of her Dutch-boy hairdo.  "Shirl did that!  Said she'd make me look like Myrna Lloy..."

 

"I think you look real pretty." Lenny said.  She smiled.

 

"Thanks, Len." Laverne felt a shock of surprise at the warm sentiment they shared.

 

"What did I promise you?" Shirley wondered as she came back from the bedroom, having changed into a plain white blouse and skirt set, the collar turned up inordinately high.  "What's that you're all looking at?"

 

"Laverne's naked patootie," Squiggy shrugged.

 

"I'm so embarrassed..." Laverne whined.

Shirley peered over Grandmother DeFazio's shoulder as she got a piece of pizza.  "Baby pictures!" she squealed, in a tone so high that Maggie howled in pain.

 

The little brunette let out another squeak when she found what had replied to her noise.  "Hello doggie!  You're a cute little honey bunny bug..."  Maggie walked over to Shirley, sniffing at the girl deeply - as if trying to figure out if this chatty thing was a friend or an alien being.  "Whose is she?"

 

"Lenny's." Every other voice in the room replied.

 

Shirley's eyes bugged out.  "But Leonard..."

 

"Shirl, he can handle the dog." Laverne insisted.

 

"But..Lenny Kosnowski..." Shirley sputtered.

 

"He really loves Maggie - we found her in the street tied to a dumpster.  She was starving to death.  If he hadn't found her..."

 

Shirley melted.  "Oh, sweetie!" she bent to pet Maggie, but the dog backed away from Shirley, whining.  The little brunette frowned. 

 

"I don't know why my voice has that sort of effect on animals..."

 

"Look!  It's little Laverne on the beach!" Grandma DeFazio called from the couch.

 

"Hey, I didn't know she had a mustache!" Squiggy chuckled.

 

Laverne gave her best friend a sympathetic grimmace before pasting on her best fake smile and joined her family on the couch.

 

 

***

 

 

The rest of dinner passed by unremarkably - even though Laverne's grandmother had a knack for finding every embarrassing picture Laverne had ever taken.  They dispensed with their paper plates and, with the rain still pounding outside, settled in for a night of watching Uncle Miltie.  After the show, they entertained themselves for an hour by inventing their own routines - which lasted until the downstairs neighbors began to pound on the floor.  They separated and retired to bed at a depressingly early nine o'clock.

 

In her pajamas, Laverne read a beloved, dog-eared copy of "True Confessions" while Shirley gargled in the hall bathroom.  She had already had her turn in the bathroom.  Edna had just finished brushing her hair and was putting sheets on her cot, which had been placed beside the master bed on Shirley's side.  Laverne and Shirley had been forced for the first time in a long time to share a bed, a condition they tolerated but by no means enjoyed.  From the bemused expression on Edna's face, Laverne guessed that Anthony hadn't been completely successful in eliminating all of the ants from their nesting place in her borrowed green blanket.  "Does she always take this long?"

 

Laverne left Carlotta in the middle of her struggle with the county guard.  "Did she finish flossing?"

 

"No."

 

"It'll be another fifteen minutes."

 

Edna yanked the collar of her bed jacket over her eyes.  "Honestly - even your father is faster in the be  - never mind."

 

Laverne was so engrossed in Carlotta's struggles that she didn't hear Edna's misstep.

 

"Well, I had fun tonight - even if we were all cooped up."

 

"Yeah - who knew Squiggy could juggle?"

 

"It was Maggie that surprised me - she's a very talented dog for a stray.  I've never seen a dog come out from the streets and be able to sit on command right away.  And she and Lenny have a real connection.  I had a shepard once myself - an old farm dog we called Ibiza.  She ran off with a pup from the neighboring farm.  Then my husband ran off with the neighbor.  That was divorce number two."

 

Shirley entered the room, her face caked in a green rejuvenating mask and her crisp pink nightie in place.  "What are we talking about?"

 

"How talented the boys are."

 

"Oh!  Edna, I didn't know that Frank just rivals Carmine in the singing department."

 

"I'll pay for your earplugs the next time he tries it," Edna yawned.  "It's getting late - I'll see you both in the morning."

 

"Okay - I guess Carlotta can wait until then." Laverne placed her True Confessions on the night stand and fluffed up her pillow.

 

"Would anyone mind if I left a low light on?"

 

"Shirl, Squiggy was kidding about the cockroaches being as big as pillows - Grandma's building is inspected every year, anyway."

 

"I'm not worried about cockroaches - or anything, for that matter.  I wanted to write in my diary."

 

"You still keep a diary, Shirley?"

 

"Why yes, Mrs. Babbish - it's my most constant companion."

 

"Like her pigeon toe."

 

"Laverne, don't be jealous."

 

"I'm not.  Night."

 

"Goodnight."

 

Laverne swaddled herself in the covers - it was suddenly cold, and Shirley would try to hog them as soon as she finished writing.  Then Laverne squeezed her eyes shut, trying to sleep - but found her worries all-consuming.

 

"Shirl." she whispered into the dark, turning toward her friend's side of the bed.

 

"What is it?"  Shirley didn't look up from her diary.

 

"I think Grandma's trying to set me up with Lenny."

 

Shirley chortled.  "Really, Laverne, it's too late in the evening for you to pull a silly prank..."

 

"I'm not kidding."

 

She paused to consider this - and shrugged glibly.  "And I thought your grandmother was a tasteful woman..."

 

"Stop being mean!  She isn't the person I'm worried about, anyway."

 

"You're afraid of hurting Lenny?"

 

"He's always kinda had a crush on me - this thing with my grandma's making it worse."

 

"Pshaw!  I think you've made it perfectly clear that you're not interested in a romance."

 

"Shirl!  I want advice here!"

 

"Well, just turn him down gently.  Like I did with Ducky Kearns."

 

"Did you ever get those ballet slippers back?"

 

"No - and that's not my point.  Why are you so worried about what Lenny Kosnowski feels?" Shirley

placed her diary on the floor, beside a sleeping Edna, then clicked off the tiny red night lamp and wriggled beneath the covers.  "It sounds like you're developing a bit of a crush on him!"

 

"No!" Laverne replied hotly.

 

"Thou dost protest too much," Shirley muttered.  While she quickly found sleep, Laverne sat awake for hours more, staring at the ceiling.

 

The lesson she had learned that day rang pure in her mind.  Lenny Kosnowski had stood up for himself.  He actually had a spine.