When night falls, the boardwalk comes alive outside our windows. The rides light up the darkness and vendors call out to the tourists, win one for the little lady, step right up, give it your best shot. As Chad props open the door, I pick up the phone and dial the number I’ve already memorized. The phone rings in my ear and I watch Chad struggle with the placard that proclaims we have the best sundaes on the boards. I could four rings, five, I’m just about to hang up when someone answers. “Romano’s,” a man says, the Brooklyn thick in his voice…she gave me the number to the pizzeria?
“Um,” I don’t know what to say. “Is Andrew there?”
“Just a minute.” The phone knocks against the counter as he sets it down. “Andrew?” I hear him yell. “Tony, tell Andrew he has a call.”
My heart pounds in m
