Grand Opening

        Tony Ferrino shut down the register and looked around his new dry
cleaning business.  In preparation of opening day tomorrow, the floor was
sparkling clean, the change drawer stocked with cash.  His cousin Nicole
was in the back, doing God knows what while he put the finishing touches on
the service area.  He noticed the photograph taped to the side of the cash
register, then peeled it away to look at it.
        Three people were pictured standing behind the counter of the family
store, the first shop that his father Dante had opened in Philadelphia over
forty years ago.  It was a polaroid shot, several years old, the contours
of the subjects' faces washed out into ballooned patches of white.  Their
eyes were dark flecks, narrowed above their smiles.
        The person on the right was Rose, Tony's mother, smiling calmly, eyes
gentle and soft, dreaming of a day when she and Dad were the only two working
the business.  She wore a white dress and propped her elbow on the counter,
her chin resting on an upturned palm, her other hand spread across the worn
keys of the cash register.
        Next to her was Tony's older brother Dante Junior, shirt unbuttoned
halfway down his chest, belly prying at the buttons which curved roundly
beneath the counter.  He grinned, one eyebrow cocked high, nose red from too
much wine.  One hand lay on the counter, the other was hidden as he was
leaning shoulder to shoulder against Nicole with his arm behind her.  She
looked beautiful in the picture, though she wore a strained smile, like a
model showing off a new outfit in a magazine.  Her teeth were white and
perfect, hair flowing about her petite shoulders, a red bow in her hair.  She
was leaning forward, waist wedged tightly against the counter.  She stared
beyond the camera and the store.
        Tony hadn't wanted to hire Nicole in his new business, but she had
worked in his brother's store for years, so she knew the dry cleaning business.
She was his only help for the time being, and from the stories his brother had
told, she had a penchant for creating personal messes at work.  According to
him, she was always dating the hired help in the family business, and it
interfered with work.  Since this was a college town with a lot of young men,
Tony feared she would flirt with half the clientele.  He had decided to keep
her around for a month or two until he hired a couple more people and got
things moving, and then he would ship her back home to the family.  She was
living at Tony's townhouse during her stay, to help with her living expenses.
        In lieu of a full staff, a white placard screamed "HELP WANTED!" in
huge black letters behind the window.  Despite numerous interviews of
bubble-gum chewing college kids over the past month, he hadn't found anyone
he could trust working the business, the focus of his life for the past two
years.  His brother had offered to help out, but he was busy with a small
chain of stores which their father had willed to both of them, back in the
city.  Besides, that was Dante's birthright, not Tony's.
        Nicole walked into the service area with the push broom in hand and
said that she had finished her sweeping.  He told her to clean the windows,
so she grabbed the bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels.  She spritzed
the windows with cleaner, scenting the air with ammonia.
        "Tony, why didn't you come back home after you finished college?
I always wondered that."
        "I wanted to do something different for a change, to be on my own,"
he said.
        "But you're still in dry cleaning.  You're doing the same work, just
in a different place.  You could've done that back home and lived near us."
        He shot her an annoyed glance, one of many that day.  She was
questioning everything he said, and he didn't like it.  He wished she
would work without all the chatter.  He had promised her a dinner at his
favorite restaurant in town, in celebration of grand opening the next day,
and now he was regretting his offer.  No doubt she would spend hours talking
about the family, about how his mother and his brother Dante Junior thought
he was crazy for starting his own business so far from home.  She just
didn't understand Tony's position.
        When Tony had gone off to college six years ago, he left Dante Junior
to run the family business, and now he would be intruding on his brother's
life, his territory if he returned.  There was no turning back -- going home
to the city would mean working for his brother, and he had lived in his shadow
for long enough.  Tony was the baby of a traditional Italian family and had
always stood second in line behind his elder brother, Dante Junior.  To find
his own success, Tony sold his fraction of the family business to his brother
and used the money to buy a car, put a down payment on the townhouse, and
establish a business of his own, self-built from the ground up.
        Tony gazed at his mother in the picture.  He had hoped that she could
be here for opening day, but her arthritis was bothering her, and traveling
would have been very uncomfortable.
        "You remember this picture?" he said.  Nicole turned toward him and
leaned forward, squinting her eyes to see the photo.  Her face suddenly
went blank as she spun back toward the window and stared through the plate
glass.
        "I guess so."
        "You were still in high school, weren't you?"  He taped it back
to the side of the register.
        "I don't like that picture," she said.  "Could you please remove
it, so I don't have to look at it all day?"
        "My, aren't we touchy today?" he said.  Her face reflected in the
window, her lips pursed, her expression blank as though she were daydreaming.
        "Please, Tony?" she said, and there was a strain in her voice.  He
peeled the photo from the register and placed it in a drawer beneath the
counter.  He was about to ask her why she was upset, but she had returned
to cleaning the windows, and he was anxious to close up shop and go to
dinner.

        They nearly missed their reservation at the restaurant.  Tony had 
requested seating on the porch because of the sunny, warm weather.  He had
been pleasantly surprised by Nicole's conservative choice of dress while
they were getting ready at the house.  Her skirt, hanging below her knees, 
had a floral pattern that blended into the garden near their table.  They
sat under an umbrella, beside a cobblestone walk, halfway between the
restaurant and a small fish pond with fountain.
        Since their arrival at the restaurant, Nicole had been quiet,
opposite what he had expected.  Tony was thinking up topics for
conversation as they sipped their drinks.  She had ordered a glass of merlot,
he an iced mug of his favorite microbrew.  
        "How is business really going for Dante?"  he said.  Though he wished
the family well, the rivalry with his brother had tarnished their once close
friendship, and part of him hoped to hear that things were going badly for
him.
        "Fine.  He's decided against opening two new stores because business
wasn't growing as quickly as he had expected.  He was going to put me in
charge of one of them."
        Tony wondered whether Dante had just told her that to motivate her
to work harder.  He looked up from the frothy head on his beer and found her
staring him in the eye.
        "Don't look at me like that," she said.  "Contrary to what you might
have been told by dear Dante, I'm a hard worker, and I know how to run a
business."
        Tony threw up his hands.  "What are you talking about?  What look?"
        "You've listened to too many stories.  I'm not some teenage airhead.
I even started taking night classes."
        "In college?"
        "Yes -- in college," she said.  She swirled the merlot swirled within
her glass.  "Does that surprise you too?"
        "Listen, Nicole, what's wrong?  What did I do?  What did I say?
You're biting my head off every five minutes."
        She looked across the yard to the fountain.  No fish were visible
beneath the pond's surface, where foam from the fountain spread out in 
waves across the water.
        "Dante told me what you said.  That you weren't really happy about
having my help with your store.  That you thought I'd be more of a hindrance
than anything.  Do you have anything to say about that?"
        Tony clamped his jaw shut and refused to look her in the eye.  He
took a deep draught from his beer and daubed his mouth with a napkin.  She
waited patiently for his retort, though none seemed forthcoming.
        "I'm sorry," he said, still ashamed to look at her.
        "That really hurt, especially after all I've put up with from your
brother.  You have no idea, Tony.  None."
        Conversation was sparse for the rest of the evening, with occasional
small talk about sports, weather, and mutual friends back in the city. 

        The next morning,  Tony climbed out of his car as claps of thunder
rolled in the distance.  His freshly pressed tie flapped in the wind, and
several large cold raindrops smacked his forehead.  Lightning forked the storm
clouds, darkening from purple to black behind the Beaver Avenue Plaza, a row of
storefronts which included the dry cleaners.  A red neon sign, given to him by
an artist friend, flashed "OPEN" behind the front window and a "Grand Opening"
banner hung above the door.  He leaned against the front fender of his car,
a red Z3, while running his hands over his shirt and tie to relish the feel of
fresh laundry.  His shoes gleamed upon the newly paved parking lot, where,
yesterday, workers had painted white lines on the asphalt.
        "Ferrino Cleaners," he said proudly.  It was 6:55 AM, 5 minutes until
grand opening.  The forecast called for rain all day, not the best weather for
the first day of business.  He rocked from one foot to the other and struggled
to see further into his shop.
        He wondered where Nicole was.  Though she had been awake when he had
left for work over an hour ago, she still hadn't shown.  Tony had switched on
the fans, lights and register, then gone to McDonald's for breakfast.  He had
expected to find Nicole at work behind the counter upon his return until he
remembered she didn't have a key, and he had locked the shop.  Knowing Nicole,
she was probably still fiddling with her hair and makeup at home.
        Rain spattered his clothing, so he hurried toward his shop.  Then
the sky came down, all at once, in a downpour of cold, blinding rain that
sent him dashing for cover.  He removed the keys from his pocket and tripped
over a small rise in the pavement, invisible through the blur of rain.  Gusts
of wind whipped the rain into sheets, battering him as he struggled to stand,
only to realize that he had dropped his keys.  Empty pavement lay below him,
and a storm sewer swallowing rain by the bucket.  The sky flashed with
lightning, followed seconds later by the deafening roar of thunder.
        He swore and stooped over the grating, where water pooled and flowed
such that it was impossible to see what lay below.  The grating refused to budge
as he tugged upon it.  The rain lessened, allowing him to spy bits of silver
and brass glinting about ten feet below.  His keys...  He tugged again on the
grating, with no luck at all, the metal fused solidly into the new pavement.
They hadn't paved around it, so it could be removed.
        A fancy silver Lincoln pulled into the lot, wipers squeaking,
headlights shining.  He abandoned his submerged keys and started for the
Z3 to retrieve his cell phone to call Nicole, then realized that all of his
keys were bundled together -- Z3, house, and the key to the front door of the
cleaners.  The Lincoln eased into a parking slot in front of the cleaners.  A
well-dressed businessman deployed an umbrella against the storm and emerged
from his car.  He walked around his car, opened the trunk and removed several
hangers of suits and shirts.  Tony hurried to greet his first customer.
        "Good morning!" Tony said.  The man, appearing to be in his fifties,
turned around with a start and eyed Tony from head to toe.
        "Hello," the man said.  The wind had calmed, so Tony could finally
open his eyes completely.  The man lifted many hangers of clothing from the
trunk and approached the storefront.  He stepped beneath the overhanging roof,
which afforded some protection from the storm, and tried the door.  It was
locked, of course.  He looked through the front plate-glass window, past the
buzzing, blinking neon sign.  Inside the cleaners, two ceiling fans turned
merrily upon the ceiling, a clean white counter gleamed beneath a computerized
register, and the floor sparkled.  He frowned and checked his watch, while
above him the bright red letters on the "Grand Opening" sign were dissolving
in the rain.  The man lay his umbrella on the ground and tried the door again,
this time harshly, as if to summon attention from behind the counter area.
Tony drew up behind him to explain the predicament when he noticed that the
paint-stained rainwater was spattering the man's hat and jacket.
        "Excuse me, Sir?" Tony said, and the man spun around, now visibly
agitated.  Tony placed his right hand against the man's shoulder and urged him
to the side.  When the man saw the stained water dripping onto Tony's hand,
he jumped quickly to one side and stood completely under cover of the roof's
overhang.
        "I'm the business owner," Tony said.  "Sorry that the door's locked.
I was crossing the parking lot in this godforsaken downpour, and I fell and
lost the keys to the building in a storm sewer.  When my help arrives, she can
open the door for us."  Then he remembered for the second time that he hadn't
given Nicole a key.  "Actually, let me correct myself.  I'm the only person
who had a key.  I need to call a locksmith to open the door, but I need a phone 
for that.  I lost my car keys as well, and my car is locked, so I can't get
to my cell phone."  He hoped to arouse some degree of sympathy in the paint-
stained would-be first patron of Ferrino Cleaners.
        "I intended to drop off my clothes since you were opening before
Halfurd's, my usual cleaners.  I run a large business myself, and I understand 
how these things can happen.  Convince me I should still give you my business,
and I'll lend you my cell phone."  Tony smiled and accepted the challenge, as a
hulking Chevy Suburban pulled into the lot.
        "I'll take half off the whole order and have everything cleaned and 
pressed by 6 PM."  The man tapped himself on the shoulder, where the red stains
from the dissolving grand opening sign had soaked into his shirt.
        "Oh -- bring your damaged clothing in, and I'll clean it, free of
charge.  If I can't remove all the stains, I'll pay you the replacement cost.
I realize the importance in establishing a good name for myself, and I'll do
everything possible to make sure you're satisfied."
        "Very well," the businessman said.  He removed a cell phone from his
overcoat and handed it to Tony.
        Tony thanked him and dialed directory assistance for the number of
the nearest locksmith.  The operator transferred him directly to the number,
but he got an answering machine message, indicating the locksmith wouldn't open
for business until 8:30.  Tony left his name and business address and urged
the locksmith to arrive with all possible speed.  As he hung up, a young woman
dressed in jeans and a tee shirt stepped out of the rain and between Tony and
the businessman.  She held a large weight of clothing in garment bags.
        "Excuse me," she said, on her way to reach for the door handle.
        "I'm the shop owner," Tony said.  The businessman watched on with 
amusement.  "I accidentally locked myself out of the store, so you'll have to 
leave your clothes with me.  I'll take down both your orders."  Tony felt 
around his shirt pocket and realized he didn't have a pad and pen.  The 
businessman laughed and voiced Tony's request for him.
        "Does anyone have a pad and pen they could spare?" he said.
        Tony realized he was still holding the man's cell phone, so he
thanked him and handed it to him.  The woman looked hurriedly about herself,
trying to figure out how she could search through her purse while holding
onto the hangers of clothing.
        "Let me hold those for you, ma'am," Tony said.  He took the clothing 
carefully from her arms, and she began rummaging through her purse.  A chapstick
suddenly fell from the woman's purse and rolled into the parking lot.  Tony
chased after it with her clothes in hand and dried the chapstick on his shirt,
still soaking wet.
        "I found it," she said and handed a pen and an empty business envelope
to Tony.  He slung the clothes back over her outstretched arms.
        "Thanks," Tony said.  He turned to the businessman.  "Sir?"
        A young man caught Tony off guard when he stepped up to the door,
tried it, shook his head with an annoyed "hrumph," and left before Tony could
entice him to stay.
        The businessman recited his name and phone number, which Tony wrote 
neatly in the upper corner of the envelope, to conserve space for more orders.  
The businessman relinquished his hangers of clothing with a sour look, not 
trusting the care they would be given, especially out here in the rain.  Despite
the overhanging roof, it was impossible to escape the blowing rain.
        "I'll have these ready for you at 6 PM this evening."
        "Tomorrow morning is fine, actually.  I'll be by at 7:30, or is that
too early?"
        "No, that's fine.  And I'll have my keys tomorrow.  Thanks a lot for
your patience, and your help."
        The businessman gave Tony a pat on the side of his arm, picked up the
umbrella, and hurried to his car.  A group of college students walked past
the storefront.  They eyed the situation curiously, then laughed amongst
themselves and continued on.  Tony simmered with anger as he realized how
ridiculous his predicament must have appeared to passers-by.  If Nicole
would soon decide to grace the workplace with her presence, he could store
the laundry in her car until the locksmith arrived.  With the businessman's
clothes pinched between his forearms, his hands were free to scribble the
woman's order on the envelope.
        "You're not having a good grand opening, are you?" she said.
        "Nothing I can't handle," Tony said.  "With your patience, it's no
problem at all."  He looked at her closely and recognized her.
        "Weren't you a business major?" he said.  "I remember you from school.
Perhaps in one of Jackson's classes?"
        Her eyes lit up and she smiled.  "Yes, you're right!  I remember you
now!  I see you're putting your degree to good use, unlike me.  I've only been
working part-time.  I'm Carol, by the way."
        "I'm Tony.  I'd shake your hand, but I can't at the moment.  Thanks
for the vote of confidence.  Anyway, I'm sure I'll sure I'll face worse
situations than this in my business career."
        "Your problems are about to get worse," she said.  "Once I give
you my order, you're going to have too many clothes to hold on to.  What
happens when the next customer arrives?  You can't leave the clothes on the
ground."  She was right.  The business suits were already fatiguing his arms,
and the locksmith might not arrive for hours.  Two young boys had unfastened
their seatbelts in the back seat of the Suburban, and they  pressed their
faces against the vehicle's side windows.  One boy stuck out his tongue,
the other watched on curiously.
        "I really don't have other options at this point," Tony said.  She
slung her clothing over Tony's arms, as he grunted and adjusted to
account for the additional weight.  Another car pulled into the lot,
and an older woman, appearing to be in her sixties, approached the shop
empty-handed.  She tried the door, then tugged on it a second time by leaning
back with all her weight.
        "Where are you people?" she said.  Her breath fogged a patch on the
door as she rapped on the glass with her knuckles.  Tony explained the
situation to her and asked if she wanted to leave her order with him.
        "With you?" she said.  "Why should I leave my clothes with you?"
        "Because I'll get the door open very soon, and I can clean your 
clothes by this afternoon."  She looked him squarely in the eye.
        "Listen, I don't know you from Adam.  I'm not going to leave my
daughter's wedding dress with a stranger."
        "Ma'am, I'm the owner of this dry cleaner.  My name is Tony Ferrino.
Look at the sign -- Ferrino Cleaners."  The woman shook her head and walked
away without another word.
        "It's okay," Carol said.  "Things will get better soon."  Inside
the truck, the boys were shouting and hitting each other.  The vehicle rocked
gently back and forth.
        "Hey, why don't you go home and take care of them," Tony said.  "I'll
be fine here until help arrives."  He thought again of Nicole, and his
jaw ratcheted shut, teeth grinding against each other in anger.  He swore at
her under his breath while imagining the vacant, slothful look on her face when
she'd finally show up in another two hours.  She'd come to town a few days ago,
and he was already wishing her gone.
        "How will you manage everything?" she said.
        "Hey, two of his jackets are already soaking wet.  I could lay them
on the ground and pile the other clothing on top of them."
        "Good luck, Tony," she said.  "I'll be by tomorrow to pick up my
clothes."
        He wished her goodbye, and she got into the truck and drove off.
Rain was dripping from the overhand and soaking through the clothing,
weighting them further with water.  His arms were killing him, numbness
spreading through his forearms and elbows.
        "Nicole!" he shouted.  "Where are you?"  Several university students
glanced at him as they walked past along a sidewalk covered with bobbing
umbrellas of many sizes and colors.  He leaned against the door, frustration
building further.  Passers-by gawked at him as he stood outside the door to
his own business, the cleaning machinery idle behind the counter.  He thought
about what he would say to Nicole when she arrived.  She had grown a lot in
the past few years, but she obviously wasn't any more dependable than the
boy-crazy kid he had known.  She was bringing him bad luck on opening day.
        A large yellow taxi turned into the parking lot.  The headlight beams
swept past Tony, and he squinted as the car pulled into a slot right in front
of him.  Behind the windshield, a woman was paying the driver.  The door opened,
and Nicole stepped out into the rain.  She was soaked from head to toe, white
skirt matted to her legs as she clomped angrily toward the shop.  The taxi
pulled back, just as Tony opened the flood gates of his anger.
        "Where the hell have you been?" he said.  He trembled with anger
as their eyes met.  Mascara was running down her cheeks, and her long, brown
hair was dripping in the rain.
        "My car broke down, okay?" she said.  "I've been out in the pouring
rain for an hour, and I finally managed to flag down a taxi on the walk here.
Why aren't you inside?"
        "I dropped my keys into the sewer in the parking lot.  I'm waiting for
a locksmith to get here, to unlock the door.  Why'd it take you so long to get
here?  We're less than a mile from home!"
        "Listen, that car cost me everything I had, even though it's used.
I wasn't going to leave it along the road.  Besides, you were the one who lost
the keys."  He flashed with anger and wanted to throw the whole mess of clothes
at her.
        "This is opening day, damnit!  Your car, my car, anyone's car takes
second priority.  You still don't understand, do you?  You're still the same
way, always thinking of yourself before any of your obligations."
        "I was running one of Dante's stores until I had to come to this
dumpy town and help you out.  I don't know why you think you're better than
the rest of us."
        "What does that mean?"
        "Your father's traditions weren't good enough for you.  Dante and Uncle
Charlie were hurt when you didn't come back."
        "Dante was being polite when he asked me to come home.  How the hell do
you know what everyone really thinks of me?  You're too busy chasing guys
around all the time."
        "You better take that back!"
        "The last I heard about it, you were sleeping with half the hired
help."  She looked away quickly, face pinched, lips trembling.  When she 
turned back to him, tears brimmed beneath her eyes.
        "You bastard!  You don't know what you're talking about.  I could tell
you stories about people in our own family.  Then you'd know the truth!
Don't you ever talk like that to me again, do you understand me?  Ever!"
         A man approaching the shop turned around and left when he heard them
arguing.  Nicole sobbed and looked Tony in the eye through her tears.  He saw
the hurt and pain he'd caused her, and he relented, dropping the clothes to
the ground and easing her toward him with his hand behind her shoulder.  She
hugged him, her tears warming his shoulder, still cold and soaked from the rain.
        "Shhhhhhh," he said, patting her back.  "I'm sorry, sweetie, I
shouldn't have said that."  Memories of family gatherings haunted him, picnics
under a pavilion at the park, the men seated at a long table and whispering
amongst themselves.  There were stories of affairs, of occasional brushes with
the mafia, though the Ferrino family had managed to keep out of organized
crime.
        She stepped back from him and gripped his shoulders.  "I have to tell
you something, and you have to promise to keep this between us.  I never
dated one boy who worked for your brother."  She cleared her nose and took a
deep breath before continuing.
        "What is it?  You can tell me.  Nicole?"
        "Your brother coerced me into sleeping with him.  It started when I
was seventeen."
        At first he didn't want to believe her, but memories upwelled from
his troubled unconscious, and he admitted to himself that he had suspected it
for a long time.  His brother was always watching her back, especially when
she was bending over, dressed in summer shorts and light shirts.  Tony
recalled feeling uncomfortable at how his brother treated her, how he always
touched her and smacked her butt when she walked near him.
        "It went on for years," she said.  "I hated him for it, myself too
for letting it continue, for not telling anyone else about it."
        "Why didn't you?" he said.  But he already knew the answer.  It would
have torn the family apart.
        Tony drifted back to the smell of flowers, fine wine, smoke rising
from steaks as they sizzled on the grill.  His brother was sitting to his left,
at the head of the table.  He was now the head of the family, and he had
earned their respect by taking care of business after Father's death.  Everyone
believed he would prosper and honor the family name.
        "Nicole is such a slut," his brother said.  He picked up a glass of
wine and sipped from the edge of the crystal, edged with gold.  "Two
days ago, I came back to the 5th Avenue store figuring she'd be closing the
place for the night.  I found her and one of the delivery drivers in the
back.  He was laying into her good, right on the table.  I fired the driver
on the spot.  I don't know what to do with her anymore."
        The other men laughed, except for Tony.  He remembered their 
lustful glances, as she sat with her legs crossed at the opposite end of the
There was no doubt that she was a spectacularly beautiful young woman.
        "He was awful to me," Nicole said.  "He threatened to cut me off
from the family if I ever told."  Tony hugged her tightly as she choked back
more tears.  His heart grew hard and cold when he thought of his brother,
the righteous family patriarch.
        "From the times we spent together when I was very young, I learned
to trust you," she said.  "You and Dad.  I told Dante I couldn't stand being
around him anymore, and I had to leave.  We had a big fight and he fired me
and told me to leave town for a while.  Tony, I can't go back there, at least
not for a long time."
        "You can live here," he said.  She calmed down with his reassurance,
while he recalled rumors other affairs in Dante's past, with women outside
the family.  Nicole hadn't been the first or the last.
        "We can talk more about this later," she said.  "There's something
else."
        "Now what?"
        Nicole reached into her pocket and removed a set of keys.
        "Did you forget about this?" she said.  "I found them in the kitchen
drawer before I left the house.  I knew you'd give me a set in your own sweet
time, but I thought, why wait?"
        "I knew there was a second key somewhere!" he said.  He grabbed the
keys and opened the front door while she lifted the pile of clothes from the
ground and carried them inside.
        "These are never going to come clean," she said.
        "You get busy, though," he said.  Two new customers were approaching
the door.  He saw them through the window, just beside the "help wanted"
sign, which suddenly looked out of place.  After taking their orders, he
removed the sign from the window and set it behind the trash can.