Carmine smiled to himself, his eyes still closed. He could feel Shirley’s breath warming the back of his neck, her body pressed up against his as she slept. This was his favorite time of the day; the early morning hour before the alarm went off. The apartment was silent, except for the sound of his wife’s regular breathing and the faint chirps and tweets of Little Dwayne, Shirley’s pet canary, from the living room.

The alarm started to ring. Carmine sighed, reached over to the nightstand, and smacked the clock until it turned off.

Shirley wrapped her arms around him, snuggling against his back. "It can’t be time already," she murmured. "We just went to bed."

"We went to bed eight hours ago," Carmine reminded her. "Of course, we didn’t get to sleep until much, much later." He rolled over and pulled his wife against his chest, kissing the top of her head.

She grinned, opening her eyes halfway. "And whose fault is that, Mr. Ragusa?" she asked, slyly.

"Well, the first time was mine," he acknowledged. "However, as I recall, the second time was yours, Mrs. Ragusa."

"Mm, hm. And the third…?"

"I think we’re both guilty for that one." Carmine kissed her rosebud lips, then whispered in her ear, "Care to go for round four?"

Shirley giggled, caressing his cheek. "You know I would," she said. "But if I’m late again, I’ll be fired for sure."

Carmine sighed. "Yeah, I know. And we can’t quite afford to live off what I make alone. Yet." He gave Shirley a little push. "Go. Go before I stop you from going."

Shirley stood up, yawning. She stretched, her thin, lacy nightgown clinging to her small frame.

Carmine groaned and turned away. "You’re just torturing me now, aren’t you?"

"What? I’m not doing anything," she replied, coyly. "I’m just…you know…getting my blood pumping." Shirley stretched again. "Ah, that feels better."

Carmine stood up, walked around the bed, and wrapped his arms around his wife. "You’re certainly getting my blood pumping," he said with a mischievous grin.

Shirley pushed at his chest, playfully. "Down, boy! Don’t you have a class to teach this morning?"

"Screw it," said Carmine. He started to kiss her neck, his hands sliding slowly down her back.

"Carmine," whispered Shirley, pressing closer to him in spite of herself. "We can’t do this every morning."

"Yes we can," he murmured, between kisses. He cupped her face in his hands. "Every morning, every afternoon, every evening…that’s what marriage is all about."

Shirley ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, her breath quickening. "That’s not all it’s about," she said.

Carmine paused. "Shirl…"

Shirley pressed her lips against his for a moment. "Carmine, we’ve been married for six months now," she said, stroking his face. "Don’t you think it’s about time…"

"…time to get to work. Yep, you’re absolutely right!" Carmine hurried over to the closet and began tossing clothes out onto the bed. "After all, I’ve got six little tap dancers waiting for me and it would be awfully selfish of me to be late."

Shirley watched him jump into his clothes, her arms folded. "Carmine, when are we going to work on making our own little tap dancer?"

Oh no, Carmine thought. Here we go again.

"Angel Face," he said, slowly. "You know I want to have a kid with you. More than one, even…well, maybe. But we aren’t ready yet."

"You mean you aren’t ready yet." Shirley went over to her drawer and began pulling out undergarments.

"No, I mean we," said Carmine. "Come on, you know we can’t afford a kid yet! I want you to be able to stay home and be a mommy when the time comes. Right now, that wouldn’t be possible."

"I know," said Shirley, selecting a light dress from her side of the closet. "You’ve given me all the reasons, Carmine. We need more money. We need a bigger place. We need more time together as a couple. They’re all good, logical reasons for waiting. Except for one thing."

"What’s that, Shirl?"

"I want a baby!" Shirley cried, stamping her foot. "Now, not when I’m forty! Now!"

Carmine cringed a little. He sat down on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes. "Shirley, we don’t have to wait that long," he said, carefully. "But, geeze, we haven’t even celebrate our first anniversary yet. Can’t we just wait a little longer until we start trying?"

Shirley heaved a sigh as she slipped her dress on over her head. "Well, it does take two Carmine, so I suppose we have to." She turned away from him and walked into their small bathroom.

Carmine heard her start to thoroughly and vigorously brush her teeth. He shook his head, then walked in behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Shirley, please don’t be angry. I promise we’ll start a family soon. Things are looking up, you know. I got my certification in physical therapy, and that’s already paying off. Plus, with the extra I pick up from the dance classes and those occasional weekend singing gigs…we’ll qualify for a mortgage in no time. Then, you can quit Bardwell’s and maybe after we pay off the car…"

Shirley spat emphatically into the sink. "I know you’re right," she said, a little sadly. "I know I shouldn’t be in such a rush. It’s just…" She trailed off, then turned to face her husband. "It’s just that I love you so much and I want a baby with you." Shirley ran her fingertip over Carmine’s chest. "Is that so wrong?"

"No, of course not," said Carmine, taking her hand and holding his over his heart. "I love you, too. But we have to be practical. You understand, don’t you?"

"I guess I do," said Shirley, sounding defeated.

"Hey we can still practice making a baby, can’t we?" asked Carmine, with a smile.

"Well," said Shirley with a little grin. "Practice does make perfect."

"Hey, Laverne, quit hoggin’ the bathroom!" yelled Lenny, hopping from foot to foot.

"I’m sorry, Len," she called. "I’ll be out in a minute."

"Yeah, right," Lenny muttered to himself. "I’ve heard that one before."

He eyed a potted plant in the corner of the bedroom. "I wonder if that would kill it," he considered.

Before the plant could be further endangered, Laverne finally exited the bathroom. She looked a little disheveled, her face a bit pale and drawn. "I think I’m coming down with somethin’, Len," she said, swallowing hard. "Maybe it’s that same flu bug Carmine had at his wedding."

"You should lie down," advised Lenny, still shifting around uncomfortably.

"I can’t, Lenny. You know Bardwell’s only gives us five sick days a year and I’ve already used two." She sat down on the edge of their bed, breathing slowly and deliberately.

"Hold on," said Lenny. He ducked into the bathroom for a few minutes.

Laverne smiled as she heard him say, "Ahhhh. That’s better."

Lenny returned, looking much more comfortable. "Laverne, it don’t matter if you got sick days or you don’t got sick days," he reasoned. "If you’re sick, you’re sick and that’s all."

"No, that ain’t all, Len," said Laverne. She stood up gingerly, then held her arms out to him. "Come here and give me a hug, you big lug."

Lenny obliged. He held her tightly, as though afraid she was going to disappear if he let go for even a moment.

"Len, it’s real sweet of you to say that, but we both know that if I get fired, we’re in deep ca-ca," said Laverne. "You’ve been out of work for months now and your Disability’s all run out. Until you can find something, we need my paycheck to keep a roof over our heads."

"Yeah, I know," said Lenny, sadly. "I’m lookin’ real hard for a new job, but times are tough right now. There ain’t much around for a guy like me."

"Have you asked Squiggy for help finding somethin’?" asked Laverne. "He seems to be earning money somehow."

"Oh, yeah, well. You know, Squig’s the smart one," said Lenny. "He did all right with that talent agency thing for awhile and then he stumbled into somethin’ else. I’m not sure what…he’s been kind of close-mouthed about the whole thing."

"Yeah, I know." Laverne walked into the living room to pick up her purse. Lenny followed. "You know, that’s pretty strange right there."

"What is?"

"Squiggy, not flappin’ his lips to everyone about his latest money-making scheme. Makes me wonder what it is even more."

"Well, maybe I’ll try and find out today," decided Lenny. "I’ll ask him out for lunch and bug him until he tells me. That usually works."

"Sounds good, Len. Hopefully, it’s somethin’ that he’ll let you in on, too."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Laverne picked up her handbag then walked over to her husband. She wrapped her arms around his waist, then reached up to kiss him.

Lenny obligingly lifted Laverne until she was eye to eye with him, then pressed his mouth over hers. They stayed that way until Laverne heard Shirley yell through their apartment door, "Laverne, come on! We’re gonna be late!"

Lenny put Laverne back down, reluctantly. "You’d better go," he said. "But promise me you’ll come right home if you start to feel really bad, no matter what!"

"I promise," said Laverne. "Don’t worry, Len. Maybe I just need to eat somethin’. I’ll grab a bagel on the way in." She gave her husband a loving smile. "Bye!"

Lenny watched as she disappeared out the front door. Then he flopped down on the sofa, picked up a newspaper, and began diligently combing through the Help Wanted section.

"No, girls, that’s one, two, then one-two-three…yeah…no, not…right. Right, you’ve got it!"

No, they don’t, Carmine added to himself, watching his class of eight and nine year old girls stumble through their tap routine. He tried not to chuckle as two of the girls spun around into each other.

"It’s a left turn, Cathy, left…no, sweetie…the other left…there you go." Carmine shook his head, reminding himself that the first week with a new class was always the toughest. By the end of six more, he comforted himself, I’ll have six little Ginger Rogers. Well, maybe not Cathy…

"Okay, girls, why don’t we take five here. Go do…stuff. I’ll see you back here at 9:25 and we’ll finish up. Sound good?"

The girls looked at one another uncertainly. A couple nodded in his direction. Then, they scampered off to the restroom and water fountain.

All except one.

Carmine sat down and looked at a small calendar he kept in his pocket. Shirley had given it to him, to help him keep all his various jobs and appointments straight.

She’s always looking out for me, Carmine thought, fondly. Let’s see, I have an appointment with Mr. Schwartz to work on that leg he hurt in the accident. Then, there’s Mrs. Davis…

His thoughts trailed off as he saw a shadow fall across the white page he was studying. Carmine looked up and saw a petite girl with dark blonde hair and wide, Dark brown eyes. She was staring at him with an odd expression on her face.

"Do you need something…" Oh, what’s her name again? Carmine ran over the roster of girls in his head until he came up with the right one. "Lucy, right?"

"Right." The girl continued to look at him, one hand tugging at a lock of her wavy hair.

Carmine waited. Finally, he said, "Um, is there something wrong?"

"No," Lucy replied. She shifted from one foot to the other. "Mr. Ragusa?"

"Yes?"

"I…nothing. Never mind." With that, she turned and walked quickly out into the hallway.

Carmine watched her go, a puzzled look on his face. "What was that about?" he asked himself.

For the rest of class, Carmine found himself paying a little more attention to Lucy than to his other students. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right with the little girl.

After class, as the mothers arrived to pick up their daughters, Carmine noticed Lucy walking out of the studio alone. He followed her out to the curb.

"Hey, Lucy," he said. "Where’s your mom?"

"Oh, she’s not coming," said Lucy. She looked up and down the street, then pointed. "That’s my ride now."

Carmine followed her finger and saw a long, black limousine coming up. He raised an eyebrow and said, "That’s for you? Really?"

"Yeah. Mr. Cerrullo takes me everywhere."

"You know, Lucy, I was watching you today," said Carmine. "You’re really graceful. Have you ever danced before?"

Lucy shrugged. "Just a little bit, at home. This is the first class I’ve ever taken." She looked up at him with hope in her eyes. "You really think I’m good?"

Carmine smiled and patted her on the top of the head. "You will be when I’m done with you," he said with a wink. "But you’ve got a lot of natural talent. Believe me, I’ve taught a lot of kids and I can tell."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a little smile. Then the limousine pulled up and her smile faded. "I’ve got to go, Mr. Ragusa. I’ll see you Thursday, okay?"

"Okay," said Carmine. He watched as the blonde girl climbed into the back of the limo, then followed it with his eyes as it drove away.

Strange that a family with that kind of money is sending their kid for tap lessons in this part of town, Carmine mused. Bel Aire, maybe, or Beverly Hills, but here? How’d they even know about this place?

Carmine glanced at his watch, then shook his head and went around to the parking lot to get his car. Another hour, another job to get to. But, for the rest of the day, he couldn’t stop thinking about little Lucy and her big limousine.

"Order whatever you want, Len. It’s on me," said Squiggy, loftily.

"Yeah? Wow, thanks Squig. That’s awfully big of you."

"Yeah, well, I’m an awfully big kinda guy."

"You do know that Pop doesn’t charge me to eat here no more, right?"

The two longtime friends were sitting in the Pizza Bowl Too. Lenny had arranged to have lunch with Squiggy, so that he could keep his word to Laverne and find out if his buddy had any job leads.

Whatever Squig’s doing, it must pay pretty good, Lenny thought, hopefully. Aloud, he said, "So, what you been up to lately?"

"Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that," said Squiggy, waving his hand around casually.

"So which is payin’ you so well? This or that?" asked Lenny.

Squiggy shifted a little in his chair. "Well, that’s somethin’ I should really keep private," he replied.

Lenny leaned across the table a little. "You ain’t involved in nothin’ dirty, are you?"

"I wish," said Squiggy. Then, he thought about it and added, "No, wait, you mean as in criminal?"

"Well, you are dressin’ real nice and livin’ real well all of the sudden," noted Lenny. "Usually, you can’t wait to tell everyone what you’re up to, but lately, you ain’t sayin’ a word. What gives?"

Squiggy looked around the restaurant, nervously. Then, he scooted his chair closer to Lenny’s. "Okay, I’ll tell ya, but you gotta promise to keep it between the two of us. Really promise, okay? It’s important!"

Lenny whispered, "I promise." He pantomimed locking his mouth and tossing away an invisible key.

"Okay, then. It’s like this." Squiggy took a deep breath. "I’m doin’ some leg work for this broad, see? Private kind of work…trackin’ down a guy what done her wrong."

"Wow," said Lenny, impressed. "You’re like a private eye? Since when?"

"Since I answered this ad on the back of my favorite magazine, Spy Guys," said Squiggy, smugly. "They asked a few questions, I gave a few answers, mailed it in, and bam!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, laminated square.

Lenny looked at it and read, "Certified United States Private Investigator, Andrew Squikman." Lenny cocked his head to one side. "Um, is this real? They didn’t even spell your name right."

"It’s real, all right!" snapped Squiggy, sticking the license back in his pocket. "Anyway, I drew up a few flyers, stuck ‘em up around town, and got me a client right off the bat! And, this gal’s loaded, Len. Loaded! All I had to do is tell her where she could find this guy and pretty soon it’s payday!"

"You mean, you ain’t gotten paid yet?"

"Well, no," Squiggy admitted. "But I will! She probably wants to make sure he’s the right guy first, that’s all."

"You’re sure spendin’ like you’ve been paid," Lenny pointed out.

"It’s money in the bag, Len. Money in the bag." Squiggy reassured him.

"Oh. Okay," said Lenny, not sounding convinced. "I know you’re awfully good at figurin’ stuff out, so I guess you found the right guy and soon you’ll get your money. Congratulations."

"Thank you," said Squiggy. "So, how’s by you? You workin’ again?"

"Nah, not yet. I’m lookin’, but, you know…not much out there."

"Well, why don’t you do like I did?" asked Squiggy. "You can become a P.I. too!"

"Really? Naw, I don’t think so."

"Sure, why not? We could go into business together!" Squiggy’s eyes widened with excitement. "It’ll be just like old times, Squigman and Kosnowski, together again. We could be Squignowski Investigations, Inc."

Lenny thought it over. "Wouldn’t that have to be Squiknowski?" he asked.

"Har, har, very funny." Squiggy glanced at his watch, then jumped to his feet. "I gotta go. Today, I’m gonna follow this broad as a favor to her hubby. She’s gonna go out to the beauty parlor for her once a week hairdressin’ activities and…"

"Wait a minute," said Lenny. "Let me get this straight. This lady hires you to find some guy. You find him."

"Right."

"Except now, the lady’s husband, who I assume is not the guy you tracked down…"

"Duh, Lenny, of course not! She knows where her husband lives."

"Yeah, okay. So the husband now wants you to tail the wife, even though the wife is your client…I’m confused."

"It’s okay," said Squiggy, condescendingly. "This kind of work is very confusing to the uninitiated, like yourself. It’s very simple -- the broad had me track this guy. I told her where she could find ‘em. Then, when she leaves the room, her rich hubby comes in and offers me some more buckaroos to keep an eye on his old lady. I guess he’s worried that she’s gonna hook up with the other guy or somethin’. So, it’s double the payday for Squiggy, and…here’s the best part." Squiggy leaned in closer and whispered, "I hardly done any work to get the answers, yet she thinks I’m some sort of genius!"

Lenny raised his eyebrows. "Really? It was that easy to track the not-the-husband guy down?"

"Piece of cake, Lenny my friend. Piece of yummy cake." Squiggy sat back in his chair and looked very self-satisfied.

"So, there’s no…what do they call it on Dragnet…conflict of interests with you trailin’ your own client?" asked Lenny.

Squiggy shrugged. "I ain’t a cop, Len. So long as I get paid, I don’t really care."

"Gee, that’s…good? For you?"

"That’s right," said Squiggy, with a sniff. "I gotta go, Len. Think about what I said about joinin’ me, okay? ‘Cause if all our cases are this easy, we’ll both be rollin’ in it in no time."

"’kay," promised Lenny. "I will." He watched his friend head out of the restaurant, then sat back in his chair, shaking his head.

So Squig’s a private eye, thought Lenny. Well, at least he’s doing something. Not like me, begging for interviews, getting nowhere…maybe I ought to join him.

Lenny glanced at his watch, the brand new one Laverne had bought him for his last birthday. "Aw, geeze. I promised Laverne that I’d pick up her dry cleaning and they close in ten minutes! She’s gonna have my head." He got up and walked out of the restaurant, but couldn’t shake the feeling that what Squiggy was doing didn’t sound entirely kosher.

Two weeks later, Carmine found himself teaching his six little tap students again. He worked with each one in turn, but his eyes kept wandering back to Lucy.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, it was the same. Lucy stared at him through the whole class, only turning to look at something else when he tried to return her gaze. Today, she was doing it again. It was getting to be very distracting.

Finally, he said, "Okay, girls, take ten. Except you, Lucy."

"Me?" she asked, her eyes widening. "What’d I do?"

"Nothing," he said. "I just need to talk to you for a minute, that’s all."

"Well, okay, I guess," she said, looking very nervous.

Carmine waited until the other girls had left the room. Then, he walked over to Lucy and stood over her, arms crossed. "Lucy, you’ve been looking like you’ve wanted to say something to me since we met. Why don’t you just say it and get it over with?"

"I…me? I don’t have anything to tell you, Mr. Ragusa," she said, staring at her shoes.

Carmine put his hand under her chin and gently tilted her face up. "Is there something that’s bothering you about class? Because you’re doing very well, you know."

"Really? You mean it?" She gave him a look of such appreciation that Carmine was a little taken aback.

"Well, yeah. I mean, we’ve only had six classes so far, but you look like you’re practicing…"

"Oh, I am, I am," she said, enthusiastically. "I want you to be proud of me!" Lucy beamed up at him for a moment, then quickly turned her face away.

"That’s…nice." Carmine was confused. "Well, if it isn’t class, then is it me? Am I doing something to make you uncomfortable?"

"Oh, no," Lucy said, shaking her head emphatically. "No, you’ve been really, really nice. It’s just that, well…I don’t know."

"I think you do," said Carmine. He crouched down until he was eye level with the little girl. "Go on, you can tell me. I won’t be mad, no matter what."

"You promise?" asked Lucy, her eyes finally shifting back to his face.

"Yeah, of course." Carmine stared at her, really studying her features for the first time. She looks like someone I used to know, he realized. But who…

"I wanted to tell you…I mean, I thought you should know…" Lucy paused, then took a deep breath. "What it is, is that, well, you’re my daddy."

Carmine continued to stare at her for another moment. Then two. Finally, he said, "What?"

Lucy shrugged, then gave him a small smile. "You’re my father, Mr. Ragusa. My real one, not the guy mommy’s married to now."

Carmine closed his eyes. He gave his head a hard shake. Then, he opened his eyes and repeated, "What?"

"I said…"

"I heard what you said!" Carmine sat down on the floor, a little harder than he had intended. "Lucy, that doesn’t make any sense. How could I possible be your father? I never even met you until two weeks ago."

"No, but you met my mommy nine years ago," Lucy explained. "You and her used to go out a lot. Then, you broke up and made her sad." She frowned a little. "That’s how come she didn’t tell you about me. She was too sad and she didn’t want you to know."

This can’t be happening, Carmine thought. This kid’s delusional. Still, he couldn’t stop looking at her, trying to figure out who she resembled. Blonde hair, aristocratic features, big brown eyes…the eyes didn’t match up, but the rest…

"Lucy, what’s your mommy’s name?" Carmine asked, softly.

"Same as mine," she replied. "Lucille. Lucille Martin, now. But when you knew her, she had a different last name."

"Lockwash?" asked Carmine, already knowing the answer. "Your mother is, I mean was, Lucille Lockwash?"

"Yep," said Lucy, nodding. "That’s her."

Carmine winced, then buried his face in his hands. "This isn’t happening," he muttered, shaking his head. "There is no way that this is happening."

He felt a small hand on the top of his head. Carmine peered up into the oh so familiar face and the brown eyes that, he finally realized, looked so much like his own, and couldn’t say another word.

"It’s okay," Lucy assured him. "Mommy told me that you’d be surprised."

"Sur…surprised?" asked Carmine. He let out a small, choked laugh. "Oh, yeah. I guess that’s one word for it." He held out his hands and Lucy put hers in them. "Are you sure your mother told you that I’m your father? Me, Carmine Ragusa?"

"Yep. I’m sure," said Lucy, confidently. "She showed me an old picture of you and told me about you and everything. You’re my daddy, all right."

"Lucy…I…I don’t know what to say," he admitted. "I had no idea…why didn’t she tell me?"

"I told you, you were already broken up and she didn’t want you to know. Besides, she had lots more money than you, so she didn’t need anything. Then, later on, she married Johnny and now he’s my daddy."

"But…why now? I mean, you couldn’t have tracked me down all by yourself," said Carmine. "Lucille must have told you where to find me, although how she even knew…last I saw her was back in Milwaukee."

Lucy sighed. "We moved out here a year ago when she married Johnny and she knew you had moved out here awhile before and so she looked you up or something and found out you were still teaching dance classes…and here I am."

"Yeah. Here you are." Carmine was stunned. He looked at the little girl, his supposed daughter, for another minute or two in silence.

She simply stood and smiled at him, her Dark brown eyes filled with affection.

"I need to talk to your mommy," Carmine finally said. "Do you think you could tell me where to find her?"

"Sure. She’s at home. You want to come to our house after class today? Mr. Cerullo will give you a ride."

"He will, huh?" Carmine slowly rose to his feet. "You sure that would be okay?"

Lucy nodded. "Oh, yeah. Mommy told me that it was okay to tell you who I was now, and she told Mr. Cerullo that you’d probably want to come visit, so all you have to do is come out to the curb with me after class and we can go. Okay? Would you like that?"

Carmine managed a weak smile. "Yeah, Lucy. I’d like that. But first I have to call home.

"Okay!" said Lucy, happily. "I’ll see you in a few minutes when class starts again, Mr. Ragusa."

Carmine watched her cheerfully go back across the room and start to practice her steps. Then, he turned and walked out into the hallway.

Once there, he stood next to one of the concrete walls and began methodically pounding his head against it, running the conversation he expected to have with Shirley in his head.

"What’s that, Angel Face?" Carmine muttered to himself, aloud. "Oh, right. Pack my bags and get out of our apartment and never show my face again? No problem, I understand. Argh!" He stopped pounding his head, then turned around and slumped to the floor, his back pressed against the wall.

"She’s gonna kill me. No, scratch that, she’s gonna leave me. And that’s a whole hell of a lot worse. I can’t tell her this! There’s no way I can tell her this!" He pressed his hands over his eyes. "But what else can I do? If I have a daughter…I have a daughter…oh, damn."

Defeated, Carmine stood up. He stared at the telephone in the hallway as though it were covered in spikes. Then, very slowly, he picked up the receiver and dropped a nickel in the slot.

"Yeah, hello? I need to speak to Shirley Ragusa, please." He drummed his fingers on the wall, waiting. "Oh, she’s at…no, no don’t get her. No message. I’ll try later." He hung up.

"Shirl, I know I promised you no more secrets," Carmine whispered aloud. "But I should at least be sure before I torpedo our whole future."

Carmine taught the rest of his class as if in a daze. When it was time for the kids to go home he followed Lucy out to the curb and waited for her limo. As they stood there, she surreptitiously took his hand.

Carmine looked down at her, then gave her hand a little squeeze. She was so pretty, so sweet…no matter what, he had to remember none of this was her fault. He gave Lucy a smile of reassurance.

When the limousine pulled up the rather large driver, Mr. Cerullo, got out and came around to open the rear door. Carmine cleared his throat and said, "Um, I wanted…I mean, Lucy here told me…"

"It’s all right, Mr. Ragusa," said the burly man, calmly. "Mrs. Martin told me to expect you. You can get in."

"Oh. Thanks," said Carmine, uncertainly. "Wait a minute…my car’s here…"

"It’s okay. I’ll bring you back when you’re finished." Mr. Cerullo stood patiently, his hand on the door.

Carmine nodded and got in behind Lucy. "Thanks."

For the next half-hour, Mr. Cerullo drove them through the streets of Burbank, then out toward greater Los Angeles. Carmine stared out the window, trying to come up with something to say to Lucille. He noticed the houses were getting much, much grander as they drove along.

Finally, they turned into a small, private road. It led to a large, wrought iron gate. Mr. Cerullo rolled down his window and said something to the equally massive men in black suits standing by the gate. They nodded, then pressed a button and the gates obediently opened.

As they continued down the long, winding driveway, Carmine muttered to himself, "I see Lucille’s done all right for herself."

Lucy looked up at him. "Johnny’s really rich," she confided. "That’s what mommy likes best about him."

A little startled, Carmine said, "She actually told you that?"

Lucy shrugged. "Pretty much. She tells me everything. She says we’re a team, me and her."

"How sweet," said Carmine.

He looked out the window again. This is all so surreal, he thought, as a huge mansion came into view. It had at least three stories and was styled like an Italian villa, with stucco white walls and reddish tiles. The car pulled up in front of a marble porch, with steps leading up to an oversized set of carved iron double-doors. There were more large men in suits waiting in front.

One of them came over and opened the door of the limousine. "Right this way, Mr. Ragusa," one of them said, pointing toward the porch. "Mrs. Martin is anxious to see you."

"Yeah, I’ll bet," Carmine muttered.

"Sir?" asked the security man, his brow knitting over his dark glasses.

Carmine looked up at him and managed an awkward smile. "I said, yeah, I’ll bet she’s looking forward to it as much as I am."

He walked up the stairs, little Lucy skipping along beside him. Confronted by the huge, iron doors, Carmine looked down at the little girl. "Do I knock or what?" he asked.

"Silly," she said, giving him a playful slap on the wrist. Then she put her hand on one of the large knobs and turned it, pushing the door open with all the strength in her little body.

"Yeah, I guess you don’t need to lock the doors when you have those guys outside watching the house," Carmine realized, glancing around a little uneasily. He didn’t like the looks of the large security men, and he certainly didn’t like the bulges he could see underneath their suit jackets.

He stepped into the marble foyer and looked around, his eyes wide. Carmine had never laid eyes on a place this grand. The ceiling was huge and vaulted, like a museum, with a gigantic crystal chandelier that hung overhead. A set of wide, highly polished wooden steps led upstairs. To his right, Carmine saw an ornately furnished sitting room, filled with antiques. To the left, he saw what looked like a big open ballroom, with a large, oriental carpet in the center of the polished teak floor.

It looks like that Gone with the Wind place, Carmine thought. Tara, right, that was it. Geeze, looks like Lucille landed herself an even bigger fish than Mr. Lockwash was.

"Carmine?"

He glanced back at the stairs. As soon as he saw her, Carmine recognized her face, her swishing gait…everything. It was like he’d stepped a decade into the past.

Lucille’s long blonde hair was piled on top of her hair in a complicated fashion, held in place with ivory combs. Her makeup was flawless, as it always had been. She was still slender under her Gucci suit. One perfectly manicured hand grasped the banister as she descended, while the other was extended toward him.

Carmine swallowed. Hard. Then he smiled. "Uh, hiya, Lucille. What’s…up?"

That was smooth, he scolded himself.

"You are looking well," said Lucille, with a smile that showcased her even, pearly white teeth. She reached the bottom of the steps, her hand still extended.

"Oh, right!" said Carmine. "Where are my manners?" He stuck out his right hand and took hers, giving it a brief shake. But, when he tried to pull his hand back, she tightened her fingers around it and wouldn’t let it go.

"Very well," Lucille added. She let her dark blue eyes wander over him, head to toe, before wandering back to his face again.

For some reason, her gaze was making him feel dirty. "Um, Lucille? Your daughter, Lucy, here…" and he pointed at the little girl standing near them as though Lucille didn’t know who she was. "She told me something today…"

"Our daughter, Carmine. Yours and mine." Lucille turned toward the sitting room, pulling Carmine behind her by the hand she was still holding. He followed her, obediently.

"Yeah, about that," said Carmine.

"Sit right here. Would you like a drink? Anthony, please get Mr. Ragusa anything he wants!" Lucille waved a hand at a butler Carmine saw standing in the middle of the sitting room.

I wonder if he just stands there all day, until someone comes in and asks for something? Carmine wondered. Aloud, he said, "Uh, no thanks, Anthony. I’m fine. Look Lucille…"

"I know this is a shock, Carmine," Lucille said, sitting down awfully close to him on the velvet, gold sofa. She finally released his hand. "I feel terrible for waiting all these years to tell you the truth. I hope you can forgive me?" She gazed into his eyes, all wide-eyed innocence.

Carmine looked away. "Well, geeze, Lucille. I mean…this is a lot to dump on a guy after nine years." Carmine glanced over his shoulder at Lucy, who was standing in the doorway watching them. He turned back to Lucille and whispered, "Should she be hearing this?"

"Oh, of course you’re right," said Lucille. She looked over at Lucy. "Sweetheart, why don’t you go play in the recreation room? Daddy and mommy have to discuss some things."

"Okay!" Lucy waved. "See you later…daddy!" Then, she was gone.

Whoa, this is all going way too fast, thought Carmine. I’ve gone from Mr. Ragusa to daddy in the space of a few hours!

"Lucille," he began, running a hand through his hair, nervously. "Are you…I mean, you certain that she…that I’m…"

"That’s she’s yours?" asked Lucille. She laughed, a little too loudly. "Of course I am, Carmine! After all, how many men do you think I was with back then?"

"Well…" said Carmine, rolling his eyes a little.

Lucille looked shocked. "Carmine, when we were together, there was only you! It’s always only been you…" She trailed off, staring at him with an odd expression.

Carmine sat back a little further from her on the couch. "That’s…wow. Really? But, Lucille, I mean, we were hardly going out! We just, you know, it was all just fun."

"Maybe for you," said Lucille, staring at the huge diamond on her left hand.

Carmine looked at it, too. I got a baseball that size, he realized.

"Lucille, why didn’t you tell me back then that you were pregnant?" Carmine asked. "I mean, I don’t know what I would have done, but I had a right to know!"

"I know you did," said Lucille, starting to choke up a little. "Look, Carmine, I knew you were never as serious about our relationship as I was. For you, it was all about the money, and the sex…"

Pretty much in that order, Carmine admitted to himself.

"But you always went back to that mousy little girl. What was her name?" Lucille tapped her chin, as if trying to remember. "Oh, right. Shirley Feenster…something or other."

"Feeney," said Carmine. He looked down at the gold band around his left ring finger. "Shirley Feeney."

"Right. The girl who managed to keep you so fascinated even though she had nothing to offer."

Carmine looked at Lucille. "Hey, Shirl had plenty to offer me."

"Oh?" Lucille laughed again. It was an unpleasant sound, not like Carmine remembered. "Such as endless nights of frustration? Poverty? A lack of commitment while she looked for her Mr. Right? You forget, Carmine, how much you used to share with me about that girl!"

Carmine stared at the floor, feeling ashamed. "Well, I was younger then. A lot younger and a lot dumber. I didn’t know when to keep my mouth shut."

"You weren’t stupid," said Lucille. She cupped his chin in her hand and made him look back at her. "You wanted so much more out of life than that little girl could or would offer you. You wanted what only I could give you. What I could still give you." She suddenly leaned closer to him.

Carmine pulled away from her and stood up. "Lucille, whoa…wait a minute here! I came here today because I wanted answers about Lucy…"

"Our daughter."

"Yeah, our daughter!" Carmine cried, smacking the coffee table with his hand. "I want to know why you kept her from me for nine years, nine years, Lucille! That’s all I’m interested in!"

Lucille nodded. She folded her hands primly in her lap. "Then I’ll make it simple, Carmine. You broke off our relationship when you went back to that Shirley creature. I soon discovered that I was with child. Your child. But I was angry, and hurt, and, well, I knew you wouldn’t want to be a father to our baby. So I left town and never told you. It isn’t like you had anything I needed, monetarily. And what I did need from you…you weren’t willing to give back then."

Carmine shook his head. "You didn’t even give me a chance," he said, his voice rising. "If I had known you had my baby, I would have been there for you, Lucille. I would have wanted to know my own kid!"

Lucille looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "Would you, Carmine? Would you really? Were you willing to marry me and raise our child together? Were you ready to give me your whole heart and soul, the way I had to you?"

"Wh…what?" Carmine sputtered. "Lucille, come on! I think you’re rewritting our history just a little bit! We went out a few times, we had fun, but let’s not make it more than it was! We were just…"

"…having fun?" she finished, standing up. Her alabaster hands tightened into fists. "Carmine, you have never understood the way a woman thinks, the way she feels! I loved you and you used me for money and sex, then walked away! So, don’t you stand there and judge me for keeping Lucy from you! You wouldn’t have wanted her, the way you didn’t want her mother!"

Carmine stared back at Lucille as she started to cry. "I…where is this coming from?" he asked, stupefied. "Lucille, I remember talking to you and I remember our relationship and never, never once, did you tell me you loved me or wanted anything else from me besides a good time! After all, you were rich, you were beautiful, and you frankly used guys like me like disposable tissues. I didn’t leave you for Shirley, for heaven’s sakes. We were never together enough for me to leave you. You started seeing more guys, I decided to see only one girl…mostly…and we just drifted apart. You’re making it all sound like so much more went on."

"I guess we just remember it differently," she sniffed.

"Maybe," Carmine admitted. He lowered his voice a bit and stepped closer to the sobbing woman. "Look, I’m sorry if I hurt you, but that really doesn’t change the fact that you had my child and kept her from me. I never got to hold her as a baby, or see her take her first steps, or hear her call me daddy…"

"Until now," said Lucille, softly.

"Yeah. Until now." Carmine turned away, trying to swallow the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. I missed so much, he realized. It matters to me that I missed so much of my little girl’s life. This hurts. This really, really hurts.

Lucille put her hand on his shoulder, and said, "Carmine, I thought I was doing the right thing for both of us. But when I came out here with Johnny and remembered that you had moved out to California, too, I realized I couldn’t keep the truth from you anymore. That’s why I tracked you down. I had to tell you, so that I could give you the chance you never had before."

"What chance is that?" asked Carmine, trying to keep his voice steady.

"To know your child," said Lucille. "And to be with her mother."

Carmine turned back to Lucille, startled. "Um, excuse me?"

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with hope. "Johnny and I, we have a marriage of convenience. I’m his trophy wife, pretty at parties, decorative around the house. I’m tired of that life…I’ve lived it for too long with too many men. I want to be with someone I love, really love. I want to be with you."

Carmine held up his hands and backed away, slowly. "Hold on, right there," he said. "Lucille, look, I’m really glad that you’re giving me the chance to know my daughter, even if it is a little late in the game. And I do intend to be a part of her life from now on. But as for you and me…that ain’t gonna happen."

Lucille smiled at him. Carmine noticed her eyes were filled with a strange intensity, almost as though she was looking right through him. "Carmine, Lucy is meant to bring us back together, so we can be the family we were always meant to be. I know you want that, deep down inside. I’ll take care of Johnny and you and I…"

"Lucille, I’m married, too," said Carmine. He held up his left hand and pointed to the ring.

She shrugged. "Get rid of her," she said, almost cheerfully. "You know she’s nothing compared to me. Do you have children?"

"Well, no, not yet," said Carmine. He bumped against the wall, having backed away clear across the room. He stood, pressed against it, feeling very trapped.

Lucille crossed over to him, resting her hands against his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place. "Carmine, we can be together," she purred. "I’m rich, and I’ll get a nice payout from Johnny. With all I know about his…business practices, shall we say…he won’t have a choice. You can get a quick divorce and we’ll have everything we ever wanted." She darted forward and pressed her lips against his.

Carmine’s eyes widened, and he ducked down, sneaking out under Lucille’s right arm. He backpedaled into the foyer, his hands raised as though to ward her off.

"No, Lucille," he said. "I’m married…happily married…and I intend to stay married. Period, finished, the end."

Lucille folded her arms, slowly. "Who is so important that you would throw away all the money, all the love, that I can offer?"

Carmine took a deep breath and said. "Shirley. I married Shirley."

Lucille studied his face. Carmine saw her eyes narrow, her face flushing as though with fever. Her hands balled into fists again and she took a menacing step forward.

"Shirley Feeney?" she hissed. "You married that little brewery rat?"

"Hey, hey, watch what you say about her!" said Carmine, getting a little angry himself. "Yeah, Shirley Feeney, or Shirley Ragusa now. She’s my wife and the woman I love, that I’ve always loved. You knew that, Lucille…I told you way back when how much I cared about Shirl…"

"I don’t remember that!" shouted Lucille. She was standing toe to toe with Carmine now. "All I remember is you running to be with me, asking me for money, begging me to sleep with you…"

"Hey, I didn’t beg for that," Carmine corrected. "As I recall, it was you who did the begging. And as far as the money went, you told me you had lots of it. Geeze, you practically threw it at me so that I’d go out with you!"

"Liar!" Lucille screamed, her features contorting with rage. "You wanted me, you know you did! You told me you loved me!"

"I…I didn’t," said Carmine, starting to get worried. Boy, was Lucille always like this? He searched his memory. None of what she was describing was how he remembered it. The word love had never been mentioned, and yeah, he had taken some money that she offered, but still…

"Lucille, whatever cash you invested in me I eventually paid back, with interest as I remember. And I never led you on. I told you from the start that we were just having fun and you told me the same thing. Where is all this anger coming from?"

Lucille took a deep breath, then said in a low tone, "You owe me a lot more than money, Carmine Ragusa. You owe me a lifetime of affection and devotion. I had your daughter. No, more to the point, I have your daughter. Hm," she said, suddenly shifting to a more thoughtful mood. "Have you told Shirley about Lucy yet?"

Carmine felt his heart sink. "No, but that’s only because I haven’t had the chance yet."

"Oh, well I’m sure she’ll understand. I seem to remember that she was a very understanding sort of girl. Or was she?"

Carmine felt as though the walls of the huge foyer were closing in on him. All he wanted to do was get out of this giant museum of a house. "She’ll understand. After all, I didn’t know…"

"Didn’t you?" cooed Lucille with an icy smile. "I wonder…will Shirley believe you when you tell her that I had your baby and for nine years you had no idea, until now? Or will she think you kept the truth hidden until I decided to share it with her?"

Carmine’s eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening me, Lucille? Because I don’t respond well to threats."

"I am simply telling you, Carmine, that I found you and I can find your wife, too. I can tell her all sorts of things." Lucille batted her eyes at Carmine. "Are you so certain that Shirley will believe you over the woman you cheated on her with, over and over again, who is the mother of your child? Are you?"

Carmine abruptly turned around and walked to the door. He put his hand on the knob and said, "Goodbye, Lucille. Have a nice life."

"Wait, Carmine!" called Lucille. She reached out and grabbed his arm, tightly. "Aren’t you forgetting someone?"

Carmine closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I’m not going to forget my daughter. I’m going to be a part of her life from here on in, now that I know she exists."

He spun around and forcibly removed Lucille’s hand from his arm. "But I’m warning you, Lucille. You stay the hell away from Shirley, you got it? I don’t want to have anything to do with you and if you try to ruin my marriage, I’ll make you sorry. Understand?"

Lucille tossed her head a little. "Carmine, you forget that I am Lucy’s mother. I decide whether or not you have a relationship with her. So I suggest you change your tone and treat me with the proper respect, or you’re the one who’s going to be sorry."

Carmine glared at her. "You have really changed, Lucille," he told her, coldly. "I should be thanking you for staying away from me all these years, except there’s a child involved. You’d really introduce her to me as her daddy, give her the chance to get to know and like me, then just boot me out of her life again, wouldn’t you?"

Lucille looked at him. Her mood shifted again. "Carmine, please. Don’t you understand how much you mean to me?" she pleaded. "Can’t you see how desperate I am to reunite my family? I’m not really asking so much, and I have so much to offer. Just think about it, all right?"

"Lucille…"

"Sh," she said, pressing her fingertips against his lips. "Think about it." Then, she suddenly opened the outer door and called, "Cerullo, please take Mr. Ragusa back to his car now."

Carmine looked at her, then shook his head and turned away. As he walked down the large, marble steps to the limousine, he heard Lucille say, "Please give my regards to your wife."

Carmine paused, but didn’t say anything or look back. Then, he got into the limo and Mr. Cerullo drove him back to the dance studio in silence.