“No, ma’am.”

“Let me tell you, it was no easy thing being his wife. It was harder being his son. You needed to be smarter and stronger to survive him. I was. Look at me, the size I am, he was twice as big as me, and still I was stronger than him every day of his life. But Joey wasn’t. My little Joey. Forever trying to prove himself and proving nothing. Though always sweet, Mr. Carl. Always. Did you see how they came out for the viewing?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Lined up around the block. Such a crowd. They came out of respect for Joey Senior, and they came for me maybe, but they was also there for my baby. People loved him. He could have taken the shop, turned it into something for himself. Politics maybe. But that would have meant standing behind his father six days a week. So he became something else, even if what he became was crap. One day it was like a switch was turned, first he was just a sweet kid, and then he was ruined. Sad, desperate, stupid. Not a good combination. But as a boy, such a face on him.”

She put her hands to her eyes as if to cover her sorrow. A thick golden ring shone on her forefinger, with a diamond chip in the center.

“That’s a beautiful ring, Mrs. Parma,” I said.

Her face lifted. She smiled as she bent her hand toward me, like a young woman showing off an engagement diamond. “Pretty, yes. You like? I wear it all the time. To me it is special. Joey gave to me years ago. A birthday gift.”

“May I see it?”

“Of course,” she said as she twisted the oversized ring off her finger. “He could be so sweet. He was an altar boy, did you know that? In his little white robe. I have picture. Do you want to see picture?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pushed herself up from the table, successfully this time, and rubbed her back as she left the kitchen.

While she was gone, I examined the ring. It was heavy, it felt solid, masculine. I nipped the bottom with my teeth and left a small mark. Nice. On the inside were the initials TG. I tossed it in my hand and then placed it gently on the center of the table.