“If you refuse to deal with your mother and grandmother, there’s not a thing I can do about it,” she said. “But you can’t hide forever, Lucy. There’s always a day of reckoning. Why put it off? Why not see them for what they are and move on?”
“Like you’ve done?” Lucy said, as anger crept forth from hidden places in her heart.
Scarpetta set down the spoon. She turned around and looked her niece in the eye.
“I should hope you would figure it out long before I did,” Scarpetta quietly said. “When I was your age, Lucy, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. At least you have me.”
Lucy was silent for a moment. She felt bad. So many times in her life she had wished she could take back a rude remark, an unfair accusation, a bruising insult, all directed at the only person who had ever loved her.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Kay,” she said.
Scarpetta knew she was and had been before.
“But, well… Why should I go down there and be victimized?” Lucy started in again. “So I can thank her for another goddamn scarf? So she can ask me about my life? She doesn’t even know I have a life, and maybe I don’t want her to know. And maybe I’m not going down there so I can let her make me feel bad one more time in my life.”
Scarpetta resumed cooking.
“You shouldn’t let anyone make you feel bad, Lucy,” she said. “I agree with you. But don’t go off into stubborn isolation, spending morning, noon, and night on your computer or at the range. Share yourself with someone. That’s what this time of year is all about. You’re in the driver’s seat now, not your mother or anyone else. Laugh, tell tales, go to the movies, stay up late. Friends. You must have one out there somewhere.”
Lucy smiled. She had more than one, really.
“Invite them over here,” Scarpetta offered. “I don’t care who. There’s plenty of room and plenty to eat.”
“Speaking of that,” Lucy said, “when are we eating and what’s for dessert?”
Heavy footsteps were followed by Marino’s rumpled self. He looked sleepy, his shirttail out, shoes off.
“It’s ’bout time you got back, Miss ATF,” he grumbled to Lucy. “You been holding up the eggnog.”
He served it in whiskey tumblers, and they drank a toast to another year together.
Scarpetta’s Holiday Pizza
Don’t even consider creating this overwhelmingly hearty and delicious pie unless you have plenty of time and are willing to work hard in the spirit of unselfishness. This is a meal that is meant to make others happy. You don’t go to all this trouble for yourself, and chances are, when your art is complete, you will probably be too weary to enjoy it unless there are leftovers for the following day, and usually there aren’t.
Begin with shopping. Some of what you need requires visits to specialty shops or grocery stores that offer a variety of gourmet produce and imported cheeses. One of the most important ingredients that separates Scarpetta’s pizza from all others is the whole milk mozzarella she uses. This comes in balls packaged in brine, and approximately four balls ought to be enough, but that’s up to you, depending on how thick you like your cheese and how many pizzas you plan on making. Do not use skim mozzarella! You will also want to pick up half a pound or so of fontina and Parmesan. Flour is very important. Scarpetta has been known to stop at bagel stores and talk proprietors into selling her five or ten pounds of very high gluten flour. She likes her crusts crisp on the outside and chewy on the inside. You will need yeast.
As for the filling, you are in charge and can use whatever suits your taste. Scarpetta has her own choices, and for her post-Christmas blast she has a tradition, her own way of saving the best for last. It is a symbol of something better to look forward to, no matter the attitudes of neighbors wheeling out mountains of Christmas trash, making resolutions about exercise and diets, and saying goodbye to relatives they scarcely ever see.