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Christine Palamidessi Moore 283 Card Palace Christine Palamidessi Moore Fiction (2006) Denise, a petite, dark-eyed woman with the gift of gab, inherited the Card Palace from her mother’s brother Frank, who, like everyone else in the family, succeeded in keeping secrets. After reaching a certain age, the family stopped asking Frank if he was dating. In twenty-seven years, he had never answered yes. Frank was gay, and everyone held their breaths, hoping that he didn’t like the boys who frequented his shop. Frank, a good man, was interested in baseball cards. He showed up at Easter with sweet cakes and wore Bermuda shorts to picnics. He died from AIDS—though no one mentioned that detail at the funeral. After Mass, the family gathered at Mt. Auburn Cemetery and agreed the reason Frank was no longer with them was because his lungs finally had given out from all the smoking he did. Denise bowed her head—so did her teenage daughter— while attendants slid Uncle Frank’s slate-gray casket into the ground. The Nucci family, a confident group, never announced that they were perfect but believed they were. Denise figured their secret-keeping was a trait left over from the generations who believed in the evil eye, bella figura, and the duty of hiding possessions to protect neighbors from committing the sin of covetousness. After the burial, the family drove their sedans to an aunt’s house that smelled slightly of mothballs. Because Denise’s mother was a widow, Frank left her and Denise the Card Palace and the dark house behind the shop with its fifteen treacherous concrete steps. Her mother politely renounced the gift. ‘‘Can you imagine in the winter? With my hip?’’ It was the first time she admitted to having arthritis. ‘‘Right against the street, too. No yard. No trees to filter out the traffic.’’ Lucky for her—and everyone, she said—a day after they buried Frank a pleasant man from Cambridge telephoned. ‘‘He read Uncle Frank’s obituary, was sorry he passed, and offered me more for the shop than you could ever imagine that place is worth.’’ She didn’t reveal the exact numbers. ‘‘I’ll deposit the proceeds in a high-interest CD until Jocelyn goes to college, or wants a big wedding,’’ she said to Denise. ‘‘Did the man say where he read Uncle Frank’s obituary?’’ No one in the family had placed an announcement. ‘‘Maybe he just wants the inventory,’’ Denise said. ‘‘Maybe I’ll take the shop.’’ ‘‘No. Don’t. It’s junk, I tell you. Toys.’’ Her mother swept her hand through the air. ‘‘My brother Frank never grew up. Never took responsibility. Never married.’’ 284 card palace Nonetheless, Frank had earned more money in the Card Palace than Denise took home by cutting hair in Newton Center. If she played her cards right—ha, ha—she could probably double or even triple the price the man in Cambridge offered her mother and send both herself and her daughter Jocelyn to college. The sacrifice would be living in Medford for two years. ‘‘Are you kidding? Medford? Me? Girls tattoo their chests in Medford. I won’t go.’’ Jocelyn sat at the foot of her bed. ‘‘I can’t leave my friends. How could you do this to me? I hate you.’’ ‘‘Grandma says you can stay here on the weekends. It’ll be good. I’ll be busy on Saturdays and wouldn’t make lunch anyway,’’ Denise said. ‘‘You never make lunch! You don’t know how to use a microwave. I even make your coffee.’’ Jocelyn crossed her arms. Denise didn’t deny the accusations. ‘‘You’re right.’’ She smiled at her cute daughter. ‘‘You can see your Newton friends on weekends. Study during the week. I promise I’ll learn to cook spaghetti—or grill cheese—and cook you dinner. Okay?’’ ‘‘Why did I have to be your daughter?’’ she shouted. ‘‘Why couldn’t I be like Sarah and Kristin and have normal parents and live in a normal house?’’ ‘‘Everyone loves you. Stop whining.’’ Denise put her arm around her daughter ’s slim waist. ‘‘We’ll be okay, baby.’’ She spoke softly. ‘‘You and me.’’ Denise already appreciated the time she would have with Jocelyn when they moved to Medford. She would help her with homework in the evenings and savor the last few years of her daughter’s childhood. She put her head on Jocelyn’s...

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