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Chapter 9.

I never did get to finish my conversation with Tank, despite trying to see him for the last couple of days. Unfortunately, a spate of attempted break-ins on several VIP clients had kept him busy.

I did however finally hear from Joe. It was a brief call, and I was an emotional mess by the end of it, apologising profusely for everything that had happened and the predicament I had placed him in. Joe didn't seem worried, I suppose it's easier to disassociate when you're not living in the Burg and the thick of speculation. He knew the baby was not his, didn't even have to do the math. Our relationship had ended way before all this happened.

But he did ask who the father was.

I couldn't tell him. I had kept the secret for so long that deflecting difficult questions had become automatic. Though telling him it was a one-night stand with someone from outside of Trenton felt disrespectful to the life I was carrying, even if It was a twisted version of the truth. Thankfully Joe didn't push for more information, with his wild and reckless past he was probably wondering if he had children he didn't know about.

It was a relief to be able to talk to Joe, he even suggested I take a break from Trenton and visit him in Pittsburgh. His undercover operation was wrapping up and he expected to have some time off in the next few weeks. In the mean-time I was invited to make use of his unoccupied apartment, he would call the building manager and arrange for me to collect a key. It was a tempting offer and I promised him I would give it some thought.

My musing over Joe's reactions and support was interrupted as the car door opened and Grandma climbed in the passenger seat. She had phoned and asked for a ride to tonight's viewing at the funeral home. Apparently, the president of my father's lodge had died of a massive heart attack in the middle of a card game. Dad had refused to take her, and Grandma was determined to go. Something about wanting to see if the deceased, Mr Lombardi, would have his hair dyed or left naturally grey, and how that would indicate who was in the will. I really didn't want to know.

It was a packed house tonight and so parking was difficult. After circling the block a couple of times, I decided to drop Grandma at the entrance and park in the next street. The weather was pleasant for an evening stroll and by the time I got to the viewing it was standing room only inside. Seemed like the whole Burg had turned out. Grandma was in the que to view the casket and pay respects to the widow, so I took a seat outside one of the exits to wait.

My position offered a great view of everyone coming and going and had the added advantage of being relatively inconspicuous. I was happily people watching when a conversation just inside the doors caught my attention.

"There's Frank's crazy mother-in-law. I hope she's not going to cause a disturbance." Mutterings of general consent and concern accompanied the comment. The voices were male, but not ones I recognised. I understood their concerns but was fairly certain Grandma would behave tonight, it was an open casket after all.

"Should be safe. Looks like she's alone. I'd be real concerned if she had that crazy bounty hunter granddaughter with her." WTF!

"I keep telling Frank he needs better control of the women in his family. Sure, Helen keeps a neat home, but his mother-in-law is a bad influence on others. And those two daughters … disgraceful! Both divorced and both pregnant out of wedlock." I was shocked by the comments and attitudes of the group, and my blood started to boil as the murmurings of agreement continued. As my outrage built I stood to go and confront them but stopped in my tracks at the next comment.

"Here he comes now."

"Frank."

"Father." Was that Father DeLuca, our local priest? I tried to identify the voices from the other greetings but it was impossible.

"I haven't seen Stephanie at confession yet Frank, you need to get her to come and see me. That baby's not getting any younger." There were chuckles from the group as thought there was some inside joke, and a mumbled reply from my father which was unintelligible. Shifting position slightly, I inched closer to the door to try and hear better. "It's unseemly. Pregnant, unmarried, and working in a building full of men. What on earth is she thinking."

Another voice joined the conversation, "She's obviously not thinking at all, otherwise she would have set a date."

"You sure the baby belongs to the Morelli boy Frank?" This garnered lots of laughs and guffaws.

I was mortified, rooted to the spot with outrage and indignation coursing through my veins. A hand on my arm redirected my attention.

"Are you all right dear?" Mrs Giannotti from the Tasty Pastry had concern written all over her face "You look very pale." I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't form the words. Panic swirled in my stomach as my vision blurred and my surroundings faded to black.

TBC.