The Witch of Little Italy Read Online Free Page B

his jeans.
    “I have no idea.”
    “Do what you need to do, but when you decide to come back—and you will—I’ll be here.” He went back into the building and shut the door,
    Eleanor turned around and walked to the curb to try and hail a cab. A crumpled ball of paper flew over her head and landed in the snow at her feet. It began to unfurl. Eleanor picked it up.
    That’s right. Move along. Nothing here to see.
    Love, Aunt Itsy.
    “Itsy,” Eleanor said the strange name aloud. It rolled off her tongue and mingled with the snowflakes. Her heart knew the name even if her mind only contained a small recollection. She turned back to see the woman who tossed the paper, but as she turned the door shut tight against her.
    Something stirred deep inside Eleanor. Something that urged her to take the bait. To run toward the secrets, into the unknown. If there was ever a time to be brave , she thought … And then Carmen’s voice from earlier in the evening: “A little self-confidence would go a long way …”
    Eleanor Amore straightened her posture and only tugged on her hat once as she stomped up the stairs and threw open the closed doors of 1313 170th Street.
    Once inside she leaned against the double doors and adjusted her eyes.
    A semicircle of oldness stood directly in front of her. Eleanor turned pale. The lamp on the hallway table gave a warm glow, and the doorways to both downstairs apartments were open, flooding the hall with dueling Christmas lights. The light flickered off the ruby poinsettia pin on Aunt Fee’s housecoat, and the high shimmer of the ladies’ hairspray.
    “Are you okay?” asked Mimi.
    They tightened their circle, coming toward her. Sandwiching her back against the door. Eleanor began to hyperventilate.
    Itsy held a pot full of what looked like tomato sauce, but smelled like fish. Eleanor was immediately sick to her stomach.
    “Move, ladies! I think she’s going to blow!” yelled Fee.
    Mimi rushed Eleanor into apartment 1A and closed the door. Fee shuffled across the hall into the apartment she shared with Itsy. But not Itsy. She stayed in the hall, thinking about a day long ago as well as a day yet to come.
    *   *   *
    “Are you going to be sick, love?” asked Mimi when she closed the door.
    “No,” said Eleanor, taking in air through her nose. “The smell’s gone. What was that?”
    “Crab Sauce. The Feast of the Seven Fishes, don’t you know?”
    “Oh, yes. That’s right,” said Eleanor, remembering the amazing meal from that last visit. Squid salad drenched in olive oil, stuffed lobster tails, and the crab sauce … her mouth watered and a warmth spread through her at the thought of the delicious food, but then the queasiness hit again.
    “Will you be all right in your mother’s old room? Or would you rather sleep with me? I wouldn’t mind sharing my bed,” Mimi said as she led Eleanor down a narrow hallway running the length of the apartment. The dim Christmas lights mimicked candle glow and cast long granddaughter and grandmother shadows against the walls.
    “No, I think I’d like to sleep in her room,” Eleanor said.
    You don’t want to share a bed with me, she thought, looking at her grandmother’s wide yet fragile back, you’re probably going to want to kick me out on my behind when you find out why I’ve come.
    “Is that so?” asked Mimi, stopping in front of a closed door.
    Eleanor held her breath. Did she hear me? Did I say that aloud? “What?” she asked.
    Mimi smiled. “You’d rather sleep in her room?”
    Eleanor relaxed. “We had a fight,” she explained. “I’d like to be close to her. It’s easier when she’s not around. If that makes any sense. When I was little and she left me with nannies I’d sleep in her nightclothes. It always made me feel better.”
    “Oh yes. It makes a world of sense.” Mimi’s hand rested on the closed door. She moved her palm against it like a mother who rubs a child’s back at night. “I don’t come