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Nonna doesn't sense that the blonde is the woman you're supposed to marry, I'll accept
     it. You have my word about that.”
    Before Tony could argue, his mother left the table.
    His poor father hurried after her, a terrified look on his ashen face. “Gina, my little dove, be reasonable,” he called out.
    As soon as his father was out of sight, everyone at the table burst out laughing.
    Except Tony.
    “I guess you'd better go find that blonde,” Angelina said between giggles.
    “Arrest her if you have to, Tony,” Maria teased. “You know how stubborn Mama gets when she's praying.”
    Everyone laughed again.
    “This
isn't
funny,” Tony said. “Maybe if you girls had lived with one of Nonna's marriage predictions, you might have a little more sympathy
     for me.”
    “Don't blame us,” Maria said, “we didn't make the rule that Nonna's predictions were restricted for her precious sons and
     her only grandson.”
    “I wasn't
blaming
you,” Tony began, “I just meant…”
    Carlina interrupted him. “Remember the last time Mama locked herself in her bedroom to pray?” She looked around the table
     for an answer.
    “Two years ago,” Elaina said. “When Papa refused to fire that hot little waitress whose skirts were so short you could see
     her kooch every time she bent over to place a plate on the table.”
    Everybody laughed.
    “Mama's no fool,” Theresa said. “She caught Papa looking at that hot little kooch one time too many.”
    “Poor Papa,” Maria said. “He only held out two days.”
    “Yes, but he moped around the restaurant for a solid month after he fired that girl,” Angelina said, and everyone laughed
     again.
    “Well, in case none of you have noticed,” Tony told his snickering siblings and their spouses, ”
I'm
not Papa. This time, Mama has met her match.”
    “I'll bet five hundred dollars on Mama Gina right now,” Horst, Elaina's big blond German husband announced.
    Tony flipped him the finger.
    Everyone howled even louder.
    “Go ahead. Knock yourselves out laughing,” Tony said. “Just don't expect me to stand here and take it.”
    He turned and headed for the door.
    “I hope you were smart enough to get the blonde's name,” Theresa called out after him. “Because you will have to find her,
     Tony. Mama will see to it.”
    They were all still laughing when Tony walked out of the restaurant.
    Crazy idiots.
    But he really couldn't blame his family for having their fun at his expense. Had the shoe been on someone else's foot, he
     would have been laughing just as loudly and instigating mischief exactly the way everyone else was doing with him.
    Pray to the Saints in Heaven above.
    Well, he had news for Mama.
    Her prayer threat wasn't going to work with him.
    The only reason his mother always won her blackmailing prayer scam anyway was because his father couldn't hold up under the
     pressure. Well,
he
wasn't Papa, just like he'd told the laughing hyenas back at the table.
    Laughing hyenas.
    Maybe hyenas laugh because they know what's coming next.
    Tony pushed that thought aside and kept on walking.
    He headed down Thirtieth Avenue, both hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. Weather permitting, he always walked the five
     blocks from his apartment building to the restaurant on Friday night. It gave him a chance to scope out the neighborhood,
     keep his thumb on the pulse of what was really happening on the streets of Astoria.
    Old habits die hard.
    Serving at least five years on a regular beat was one of the requirements a candidate had to meet before applying for a position
     as a mounted patrol officer. He'd paid his dues. He'd maintained an exemplary record as a patrol officer. He'd finally reached
     his goal and been accepted by a mounted patrol unit. But he never intended to lose his streetwise edge.
    Was I smart enough to get the blonde's name?
    Who was Theresa kidding?
    He'd gotten her name and more.
    Anderson Gallery of Fine Arts.
    Yeah, she'd be easy enough to track