*
Gina lived on the second floor of a two-flat on Lowe Avenue in Bridgeport, four blocks from the house she grew up in and six from St. Barbara's, which meant that her mother knew within the hour every time she came home late, every time she bought something at Marshall's instead of fixing the old one, and every time a man walked her to her door.
Her mother called on Sunday morning before Gina had finished her coffee.
"Mrs. Lombardo," said Rosemary Castellano, without preamble, "says you came home from downtown yesterday smiling."
"Mrs. Lombardo needs a hobby."
"Mrs. Lombardo has a hobby. Her hobby is you. Who is he?"
"There's no he, Ma."
"Regina."