The green 1968 Pontiac Firebird pulled into the Balistreri driveway shortly after five in the afternoon.

Margaret Balistreri pushed in the clutch, shifted the manual transmission into neutral, and shut off the engine.

The six-cylinder had been making that familiar noise again.

She sat behind the wheel for a moment, looking over the long green hood.

The Firebird was still a beautiful automobile. The green paint, black vinyl roof, and gold interior had been what attracted her to it when they purchased it new in 1968.

But there was one thing she had never liked about the car.

That damned manual transmission.

She could still remember standing in the Pontiac dealership with Anthony, telling him she wanted an automatic.

And she could remember his answer just as clearly.

“We’re not spending the extra money for that. You know how to drive a stick.”

Three years later, she was still shifting gears every time she drove the car.

And she was still irritated about it.

But that wasn’t what occupied her thoughts this afternoon.

Her conversation with Lydia at the gas station had been considerably more interesting than she’d expected.

And she intended to find out exactly what her husband had been up to.

Inside the house, Anthony Balistreri was sitting in his favorite chair watching television.

He had already changed out of his work clothes after another day at American Motors.

Margaret walked into the living room, set her purse on the table, and sat down on the sofa.

She took a cigarette from her purse, lit it, and looked over at her husband.

“Anthony, you know something I’ve been thinking about?”

He glanced away from the television.

“What’s that?”

“That car Malcolm got.”

Anthony shrugged.

“What about it?”

“I’m actually kind of surprised he was able to get financing for it.”

“Why?”

“Well, Anthony, he’s only eighteen years old. He hasn’t been working at American Motors all that long, and that’s a pretty expensive automobile for somebody his age.”

Anthony shifted in his chair.

“Well, you know, I had to pull a few strings. Talked to some people. Made a few arrangements.”

Margaret nodded slowly.

“Oh, I’m sure you did.”

Anthony looked at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I just find it interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

Margaret took another drag from her cigarette.

“Well, I stopped at the gas station today.”

“All right.”

“And I had a rather interesting conversation with Lydia.”

Anthony stopped looking at the television.

“Lydia?”

“Yes, Anthony. Lydia. The young woman who’s pregnant with your grandchild.”

“Oh.”

“She tells me you bought Malcolm that car in exchange for him not marrying her.”

For several moments, the room was completely silent.

Anthony looked toward the television, then back at his wife.

Finally, he shrugged.

“Well, she wasn’t the right fit.”

Margaret laughed.

“That’s it?”

“What?”

“That’s your explanation?”

“Look, Margaret, the boy is eighteen years old. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. He doesn’t need to be getting married just because he got some girl pregnant.”

“Some girl?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, Anthony. I think I’m beginning to understand exactly what you mean.”

Anthony leaned forward.

“Look, there’s more to this than you’re making it out to be.”

“I’m listening.”

“You know that Firebird you’ve been driving?”

Margaret glanced toward the driveway.

“What about it?”

“That six-cylinder has been giving us trouble for a while now.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.”

“And you’ve been talking about wanting something newer.”

“I have.”

“Well, I found you something.”

Margaret raised her eyebrows.

“What did you find?”

“A brand-new 1971 Chevrolet Nova. Two-door. Gray with a black interior. Three-fifty V8 and an automatic transmission.”

Margaret sat up.

“Anthony, you bought me a new car?”

“That’s right.”

“An automatic?”

“Yes, Margaret. An automatic.”

She laughed.

“Well, it’s about damn time!”

Anthony shook his head.

“Here we go.”

“Anthony, do you remember when we bought that Firebird?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you remember me standing in that dealership telling you I wanted an automatic transmission?”

“Yes.”

“And do you remember telling me you weren’t going to spend the extra money?”

“Well, it was a perfectly good transmission.”

“Anthony, I didn’t want to shift gears then, and I sure as hell don’t want to keep shifting them now!”

He laughed.

“Well, you won’t have to anymore.”

Margaret smiled.

“And what about the Firebird?”

“That’s going to Teresa.”

“You’re giving Teresa my Firebird?”

“Yes. But we’re not giving it to her the way it sits.”

He leaned forward, becoming considerably more enthusiastic.

“We’re pulling that six-cylinder out. I’ve already made arrangements for a Pontiac 350 V8. We’re putting a Turbo-Hydramatic 350 automatic transmission behind it, too.”

Margaret stared at him.

“Wait a minute. You’re putting an automatic in the Firebird now?”

“That’s right.”

She burst out laughing.

“Anthony Balistreri, you wouldn’t spend the extra money to get me an automatic transmission when we bought that car brand-new, but now you’re going to put an automatic in it for our daughter?”

“Well, we’re changing the engine anyway. Might as well do the transmission while we’re at it.”

Margaret shook her head.

“Unbelievable.”

“What?”

“Three years I’ve been driving that car, and all I ever wanted was an automatic. Now Teresa gets the Firebird with a V8 and an automatic, and I finally get the Nova I should’ve had in the first place.”

Anthony grinned.

“See? Everybody comes out ahead.”

Margaret looked at him.

“Except Lydia.”

Anthony sighed.

“Now, Margaret—”

“No. I want to hear how Malcolm’s car fits into this.”

Anthony leaned back.

“Think about it. We’re buying you a Nova. Teresa gets the Firebird. Now, how do you think Malcolm would’ve reacted if I just handed his sister a car?”

Margaret smiled slightly.

“He would’ve been furious.”

“Exactly. He would’ve made a big production out of Teresa getting a car while he didn’t get anything.”

“Probably.”

“And I couldn’t just walk up to him and say, ‘Here, Malcolm, I’m giving Teresa the Firebird, so I’m buying you a fucking car, too.'”

“Why not?”

“Because he wouldn’t have accepted it that way. He’s too stubborn. He’d have started asking what the catch was and why I was doing it.”

Margaret raised her eyebrows.

“So you invented a catch.”

Anthony shrugged.

“I knew he was having problems with Lydia. I knew he wasn’t sure about getting married. So I made the car part of the arrangement.”

“You offered him a car not to marry the mother of his child.”

“That’s right.”

Margaret shook her head.

“Anthony, you used that girl’s pregnancy to solve an automobile problem between your children.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds bad.”

“Because it is bad!”

“Look, Margaret, I didn’t tell him he couldn’t see her. I didn’t tell him he couldn’t help raise the baby. I told him not to rush into marriage.”

Margaret looked at him.

“And what exactly did you know about Lydia?”

Anthony hesitated.

“Well, she worked at the gas station.”

“That’s it?”

“She’s a pretty girl. I’ve bought gasoline from her a few times. She was always pleasant.”

Margaret shook her head.

“Anthony, do you remember how we met?”

He smiled.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you ought to remember there was a time when I wasn’t a union employee. There was a time when I didn’t work at Delco Electronics. I worked in a grocery store.”

Anthony laughed.

“Oh, I remember that grocery store.”

“Do you?”

“Hell, yes. I bought more groceries than I knew what to do with just so I could talk to you.”

Margaret smiled.

“You certainly did.”

“I’d go in there for a loaf of bread and come out with two bags of groceries. Half the time I didn’t need any of it.”

“And what if your father had decided I wasn’t good enough for you because I worked in a grocery store?”

Anthony stopped smiling.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Well, you were different.”

“Anthony, you didn’t know that when you first met me.”

He didn’t answer.

“All you knew was that I was a girl working in a grocery store. Just like all you seem to know about Lydia is that she’s a girl working at a gas station.”

Anthony looked toward the television.

Margaret continued.

“Lydia told me she’s not opposed to working at American Motors or Delco. She wants a good future for herself and her baby.”

Anthony considered that.

“Well, I didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t. You never bothered to ask her.”

He sighed.

“All right.”

Margaret took another drag from her cigarette.

“And there’s something else.”

“What now?”

“Lydia shaved her head.”

Anthony turned toward her.

“She did what?”

“She went to Frank’s barbershop and had her head shaved.”

Anthony started laughing.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Margaret looked at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“That proves it.”

“Proves what?”

“There’s something about getting pregnant by a Balistreri man that makes women shave their heads.”

Margaret rolled her eyes.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Anthony.”

“I’m serious. Think about it. My mother had her head shaved when she was pregnant with me. Then again when she was carrying my sister.”

“Anthony.”

“And then you! You had your head shaved when you were pregnant with Malcolm, and you did it again when you were carrying Teresa.”

He leaned back, looking rather pleased with himself.

“And now Lydia’s done the same thing. There has to be something genetic about it.”

Margaret shook her head.

“Anthony, do you know what the real explanation is?”

“What?”

“You Balistreri men push us into doing it.”

Anthony waved his hand.

“Whatever. At least it got done.”

Margaret laughed.

“You’re absolutely impossible.”

“Been telling you that for years.”

She thought for a moment.

“You know, Anthony, I was thinking Lydia could come over here sometime.”

He immediately looked suspicious.

“What for?”

“Well, perhaps you could get to know her. And maybe you could shave her head the way you used to shave mine.”

Anthony frowned.

“Margaret, I don’t want to be standing in our bathroom shaving that girl’s head.”

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you meet her at Frank’s barbershop?”

Anthony looked at her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Anthony, Frank is your godfather. You’ve known him your entire life. It’s not like you’d be shaving her head while she’s sitting on the toilet in our bathroom.”

Anthony laughed.

“Well, that’s true.”

“Frank has a proper barber chair, electric shavers, straight razors, hot towels, everything you could possibly need. And because he’s your godfather, I’m sure he’d let you use the equipment and do the shaving yourself.”

Anthony thought about that.

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“I could meet her there before I go to work.”

“Exactly.”

“And Frank could let me in early. We could have the place to ourselves.”

“Yes.”

Anthony leaned forward.

“I could have her come in through the back door. That way we wouldn’t have everybody coming in and out while we’re trying to talk.”

Margaret nodded.

“And you could actually get to know her.”

Anthony rubbed his chin.

“Well, I suppose I could give it a try.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

“I’m not promising I’m going to like her.”

“You don’t have to promise anything. Just give the girl a fair chance.”

Anthony looked at his wife.

“All right. Tell her seven o’clock tomorrow morning. I’ll talk to Frank.”

Margaret smiled.

“Thank you, Anthony.”

He stood up and stretched.

“You know something?”

“What?”

“Now that we’ve got all that settled, maybe we ought to go into the bedroom.”

Margaret laughed.

“Anthony Balistreri, you haven’t changed one bit.”

“Why should I?”

She put out her cigarette, stood up, and followed her husband down the hallway.

The television continued playing in the empty living room.

---

The Next Morning — Frank’s Barbershop

Anthony Balistreri arrived at Frank’s barbershop shortly before seven o’clock.

The shop was quiet.

For more than fifty years, the building across from the automobile factory had served generations of Kenosha workers. The factory had changed names over the decades, from Jeffery to Nash and eventually American Motors, but the barbershop had remained remarkably familiar.

Three barber chairs stood in their usual positions. Old photographs of Navy boxers, motorcycle racers, and automobiles decorated the walls.

Anthony remembered coming into this very shop as a little boy.

Frank was his godfather, and over the years, the old barber had taught him quite a few things, including how to handle a straight razor.

That particular skill was going to come in handy this morning.

Anthony had already spoken to Frank about using the shop before regular business hours. Frank had agreed and told him where to find everything.

Anthony laid out the electric foil shaver, straight razor, shaving brush, hot towels, and antiseptic. He filled the towel warmer and prepared the shaving supplies.

He checked the clock.

Seven o’clock.

A moment later, someone knocked at the rear door.

Anthony walked over and opened it.

Lydia stood outside wearing a modest blouse and skirt beneath her coat.

Her head was already shaved, although several days of fine stubble had begun to appear.

Anthony looked at her for a moment.

Then he smiled.

“Well, Lydia, I have to tell you something. Even with your head shaved, you’re an absolutely beautiful woman.”

Lydia looked somewhat surprised.

“Thank you.”

He stepped aside.

“Come on in.”

She entered the shop and glanced around.

“Well, Anthony, let’s just get this over with.”

She started toward the barber chair.

Anthony gently took her hand.

“Hold on a minute.”

She turned toward him.

“What?”

“Lydia, this isn’t just about shaving your head.”

She looked confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I want to take some time to actually get to know you.”

Lydia studied him.

“Why now?”

“Because Malcolm never brought you around. I never really had an opportunity to get to know you.”

She nodded.

“Well, that’s fair enough. Malcolm never did bring me around your family.”

“Exactly.”

“But Anthony, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How could you judge me if you’d never even met me?”

Anthony hesitated.

“Well, I had to make an opinion based on what I did know.”

“And what exactly did you know?”

“That you were a very beautiful young woman working at a gas station.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows.

“That’s it?”

“Well, not entirely. There were a few times I stopped at that gas station myself. You waited on me. I paid you for my gasoline, and you were always very pleasant.”

She smiled slightly.

“Well, I try to be.”

Anthony laughed.

“Maybe even a little flirty.”

Lydia laughed.

“Well, I suppose I get that from my mother.”

Anthony shrugged.

“That’s another thing. I don’t even know who your mother is.”

Lydia turned and looked toward the middle barber chair.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she smiled.

“You know the woman who works in that chair?”

Anthony looked toward the center of the shop.

“Of course I do.”

The chair belonged to Evelyn, an elderly woman now approaching eighty.

Anthony had known her for years.

She had once owned a successful beauty salon in Kenosha, back when women wore their hair long and elaborate hairstyles were still fashionable.

But during the First World War, everything changed.

Women went to work at Nash, and many began having their long hair cut into short bobs.

Evelyn’s employees eventually left her salon for better-paying factory jobs. With her business becoming impossible to maintain, she had eventually joined Frank’s barbershop.

She had occupied the middle chair for decades.

Anthony looked back at Lydia.

“Evelyn?”

Lydia nodded.

“That’s my mother.”

Anthony stared at her.

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Lydia looked around the shop.

“She’s been working here longer than I’ve been alive.”

Anthony shook his head.

“Well, that explains a few things.”

“Does it?”

“Your mother was quite a woman back in her day.”

Lydia gave a humorless little laugh.

“Yes. She certainly was.”

Anthony gestured toward Frank’s chair.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

Lydia settled into the large leather barber chair.

Anthony pulled the white cape from the counter.

As he spread it over her shoulders, Lydia looked at him through the mirror.

“You know, Anthony, I wasn’t looking for anything extravagant from Malcolm.”

“No?”

“No. I would’ve been happy with a little stability in my life. Somebody with a decent job. Somebody who wanted to build something together.”

Anthony fastened the cape around her neck, leaving a folded towel positioned over her shoulders for the shave.

“I understand that.”

“Do you?”

“Sure. But there’s something you ought to understand about me.”

He walked around to the front of the chair.

“When I met Margaret, she was every bit as beautiful as you are.”

Lydia smiled.

“I’m sure she was.”

“But I was already established. I’d been working at Nash for years. I had seniority. I had a nice automobile. I was in a position to buy a house and provide for a family.”

Lydia looked at him.

“Well, Anthony, I’m not your wife.”

He nodded.

“That’s fair enough.”

“And Malcolm isn’t you.”

“That’s true, too.”

Anthony leaned against the counter.

“But here’s what I was thinking. Suppose somebody like I was back then came along. An older fellow with seniority, a house, a good automobile, and a steady future.”

Lydia waited.

“What’s to say you wouldn’t have left Malcolm for somebody who could offer you more?”

She frowned.

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through, Anthony.”

He looked at her.

“And with a mother like mine, you have absolutely no idea what I’ve been through.”

Anthony glanced toward the middle chair again.

He was beginning to understand that there might be considerably more to Lydia’s childhood than he had imagined.

He picked up the electric foil shaver.

“Well, let’s get started.”

The shaver began buzzing.

Anthony gently tilted Lydia’s head backward and began moving the foil shaver across the top of her scalp.

The short growth disappeared beneath the vibrating foils.

After several passes, he spoke again.

“Well, now that I know who your mother is, I’ve got another question.”

“What’s that?”

“Who’s your father?”

Lydia smiled.

“Who do you think?”

Anthony continued shaving.

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Anthony. Who did my mother spend most of her time around back in those days?”

Anthony looked toward the photographs on the wall.

Then toward the middle barber chair.

Finally, he looked at Lydia in the mirror.

“Wait a minute.”

She smiled.

“Yes?”

“Are you telling me Frank is your father?”

Lydia nodded.

“Absolutely.”

Anthony stopped moving the shaver.

“Frank?”

“Yes, Frank.”

“My godfather Frank?”

“The very same.”

Anthony shook his head.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Lydia laughed.

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Because I’ve known that man my entire life!”

“Then you ought to know what he was like when he was younger.”

Anthony smiled.

“Well, I know he was quite a character.”

“Quite a character?”

Lydia laughed.

“Anthony, from everything my mother told me, Frank was a regular stud back in those days.”

Anthony chuckled.

“He certainly had plenty of women coming around here.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

She looked toward the old photographs.

“He had motorcycles. Race cars. He was a Navy boxer. He owned a successful barbershop right across from the factory. And half the women in Kenosha seemed to want something to do with him.”

Anthony nodded.

“Well, he certainly had opportunities.”

“And he took them.”

Anthony laughed.

“I suppose he did.”

Lydia’s expression became more serious.

“My mother wasn’t the only woman he got pregnant, Anthony.”

Anthony stopped smiling.

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“That’s the problem. A lot of people didn’t know. And some of those women were left to raise their children without much help.”

Anthony looked uncomfortable.

“Frank always treated me well.”

“I’m sure he did. He’s your godfather.”

She paused.

“But being a good godfather doesn’t necessarily mean somebody was a good father.”

Anthony considered that.

He resumed working with the foil shaver, carefully clearing the right side of Lydia’s scalp.

“So that’s why you’re so concerned about Malcolm?”

“Partly.”

“Because of what happened with Frank?”

“Because I don’t want my child growing up wondering why its father never came around.”

Anthony nodded slowly.

“All right. I can understand that.”

He worked around her right ear, then moved to the left side.

“You know, Frank really did have quite a life.”

Lydia smiled.

“So I’ve heard.”

“He raced motorcycles on the old board tracks. Had some pretty fast automobiles. Still likes his race cars. And back during the war, when all those women started working at Nash, they were coming in here constantly for short haircuts.”

“My mother told me all about it.”

Anthony laughed.

“Frank had women lined up outside the door.”

“And apparently some of them were interested in more than haircuts.”

Anthony shook his head.

“Well, I suppose that’s possible.”

Lydia laughed.

“Anthony, you’re defending him because he’s your godfather.”

“Maybe a little.”

He finished with the foil shaver and switched it off.

“There. That’s taken care of the stubble. Now we’ll get you properly smooth.”

He set the shaver aside and reached for a warm towel.

He tested the temperature against his wrist before wrapping it around Lydia’s head.

She leaned back.

“Oh, that feels wonderful.”

Anthony smiled.

“Margaret always liked that part.”

Lydia closed her eyes.

“She told me you used to shave her head.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

Anthony laughed.

“Well, there’s a story behind that.”

“I’m listening.”

“My mother had her head shaved when she was pregnant. My father had this whole explanation about how women in the Balistreri family had trouble with their hair during pregnancy.”

Lydia smiled beneath the towel.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. He made quite a production out of it.”

Anthony checked the towel and adjusted it slightly.

“And when Margaret was pregnant with Malcolm, I encouraged her to do the same thing.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want people thinking my mother was some crazy woman who’d gone and shaved her head for no reason.”

Lydia laughed.

“So you convinced your wife to do it, too?”

“That’s right. And later, when she was carrying Teresa, we did it again.”

Lydia shook her head.

“That’s quite a family tradition.”

Anthony smiled.

“Look, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not some fellow who spends his time thinking about shaving women’s heads. It was something that happened in my family, and I carried it on.”

Lydia laughed.

“Well, Frank has talked about your mother quite a bit over the years.”

Anthony looked interested.

“Has he?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He removed the warm towel and began preparing the shaving cream.

“What did he say?”

“Well, for one thing, he talked about her running liquor for him during Prohibition.”

Anthony smiled.

“Yes, I know about that.”

“And your grandfather Joseph helping make guns out at some farm.”

Anthony nodded.

“Well, my father was quite handy with machinery.”

Lydia watched as Anthony worked warm shaving cream over her scalp.

“Frank always said those were some of the best years of his life.”

Anthony smiled.

“Well, he made good money.”

“Apparently.”

Anthony finished spreading the cream and picked up the straight razor.

He checked its edge and gave it several careful passes over the leather strop hanging beside the chair.

Lydia watched him.

“You know, Anthony, maybe it’s better that Malcolm and I didn’t get married.”

Anthony looked surprised.

“Why would you say that?”

She smiled.

“Because with the way Frank always talked about your mother, maybe you and I could’ve turned out to be brother and sister.”

Anthony stopped stropping the razor.

He stared at her.

“Now hold on a minute.”

Lydia laughed.

“I’m just saying.”

Anthony shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s the case.”

“How do you know?”

“Because my mother was very much in love with my father.”

Lydia smiled.

“That’s what you believe.”

“That’s what I know.”

He gently tilted her head toward her right shoulder to expose the left side of her scalp.

“My father was a hardworking man. He had seniority at Nash. He made good money, and he provided for his family.”

Lydia watched him in the mirror.

“Well, there were a few years when Nash wasn’t doing particularly well.”

Anthony nodded.

“That’s true.”

“And Frank always said those were his golden years.”

Anthony carefully placed the straight razor against the left side of her scalp and began shaving with short, controlled strokes.

“What do you mean?”

“The years when the factory wasn’t operating normally. Frank had the liquor business going. He had that farm. He had people working on guns and all sorts of things.”

Anthony continued shaving.

“Well, those were difficult times. People did what they had to do.”

Lydia smiled.

“According to my mother, Frank was doing considerably more than just getting by.”

Anthony laughed.

“I suppose he was.”

“And your mother was involved in a lot of it.”

“She drove for him. I know that.”

“Apparently she was very good at it.”

Anthony nodded.

“She was an excellent driver.”

Lydia smiled.

“And Frank always spoke very highly of her.”

Anthony paused.

“Well, he was fond of her. They were friends.”

“Very good friends, apparently.”

Anthony shook his head.

“Lydia, you’re trying awfully hard to convince me that my mother was running around with Frank.”

She laughed.

“I’m just telling you what I’ve heard.”

“Well, I don’t believe it.”

“Fair enough.”

Anthony continued shaving the left side of her head.

“My father and mother had a good marriage. They worked hard. They raised their children. And my father was always there for us.”

Lydia’s expression changed.

“That’s exactly what I want for my child.”

Anthony looked at her.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with wanting that.”

He finished the left side and carefully tilted her head forward toward her chest.

“Now hold your head down for me.”

Lydia complied.

Anthony began shaving the back of her scalp, carefully removing the remaining stubble from the crown toward the neckline.

After several strokes, he spoke again.

“Margaret tells me you’re interested in working at American Motors or Delco.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Really?”

“Anthony, those union jobs are some of the best jobs around here.”

“That’s true.”

“I’d love to have that kind of opportunity.”

“Have you ever applied?”

Lydia smiled.

“Actually, I applied at Delco.”

Anthony stopped for a moment.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“They were willing to hire me.”

Anthony looked surprised.

“Then why didn’t you take the job?”

“Because when I told the people at the gas station I was leaving, they offered me more money to stay.”

“More than Delco?”

“Yes. They really wanted to keep me.”

Anthony considered that.

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“I went back to Delco and explained the situation. I told them I appreciated the offer, but my current employer had offered me more money.”

“And what did they say?”

“They understood. I left on good terms. I didn’t burn any bridges.”

Anthony nodded approvingly.

“That was smart.”

“I figured if things changed, I might want to apply again.”

“Exactly.”

He continued shaving the back of her head.

“Well, I know some people at American Motors. And Margaret knows quite a few people at Delco.”

Lydia smiled.

“I’d appreciate any help.”

Anthony finished the back of her scalp and gently raised her head.

“Now, let me ask you something.”

“All right.”

“How soon would you actually want to go to work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after the baby comes. Are you planning on staying home until the child starts school?”

Lydia shook her head.

“No. I really don’t want to do that.”

Anthony looked at her.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to build something for myself. I want to have a good job, make decent money, and be able to provide for my child.”

“That’s understandable.”

“And there’s another problem.”

“What’s that?”

“My mother.”

Anthony glanced toward the middle chair.

“Evelyn?”

“Yes.”

“What about her?”

Lydia hesitated.

“Anthony, I love my mother because she’s my mother. But I wouldn’t want her raising my child.”

Anthony listened.

“I had a difficult childhood. There were always different people coming around. Different men. Different situations. My mother had her own problems, and I was the one who had to live with them.”

Anthony looked sympathetic.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I don’t want my child growing up the way I did.”

Anthony nodded slowly.

“Well, perhaps there’s another solution.”

Lydia looked interested.

“What do you mean?”

Anthony carefully repositioned her head and began shaving the right side of her scalp.

“My mother is getting older.”

“All right.”

“And since my father Joseph passed away, she’s been living alone.”

Lydia listened.

“Margaret and I have been talking about having her come stay with us.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s still a very able-bodied woman. She gets around just fine. She’s perfectly capable of helping around the house.”

Anthony continued shaving.

“And she loves children.”

Lydia smiled.

“That’s nice.”

“So here’s what I’m thinking. Suppose you went to work at American Motors or Delco after the baby was born.”

“All right.”

“My mother could help look after the baby while you’re working.”

Lydia looked surprised.

“You mean your mother would actually be willing to do that?”

“I think she’d love it.”

“But she doesn’t even know me.”

“Well, that can change.”

Anthony continued.

“She could help raise her great-grandchild. You could get yourself established in a good union job. You’d have money coming in, benefits, and a chance to build a better future.”

Lydia thought about that.

“Anthony, I would absolutely consider something like that.”

“Would you?”

“Of course. That’s exactly the kind of stability I’ve been talking about.”

Anthony smiled.

“Well, then perhaps we’ve got something we can work with.”

He finished the right side of her scalp and carefully tilted her head backward.

“Now lean back for me. I’m going to finish the top.”

Lydia settled against the headrest.

Anthony began shaving the remaining stubble across the top of her head.

“Anthony, there’s something else I want you to understand.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m having this baby.”

He looked at her.

“Of course you are.”

“No, I mean it. I’m not going to get an abortion. I’m not giving this child up for adoption. Whatever happens between Malcolm and me, I’m keeping my baby.”

Anthony immediately shook his head.

“Lydia, nobody in this family is asking you to do either of those things.”

She looked relieved.

“Really?”

“Absolutely not.”

He stopped shaving for a moment.

“Balistreri men don’t give up their children. That’s not how we do things.”

Lydia watched him.

“We’re a Christian family. We take our religion seriously. We believe in marriage, family, and taking care of our own.”

“Then why didn’t you want Malcolm to marry me?”

Anthony sighed.

“Because marriage is a serious commitment. And I don’t think an eighteen-year-old boy ought to be making that decision just because he’s frightened.”

Lydia considered that.

“But you do want him involved with the baby?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you want the baby to be part of your family?”

“Lydia, that child is my grandchild. Nothing is going to change that.”

For the first time that morning, Lydia looked genuinely reassured.

Anthony resumed shaving.

“And if we can get you into a good job, get my mother involved, and make sure the baby is taken care of, I think we can build something positive here.”

Lydia smiled.

“I’d like that.”

Anthony finished the last few strokes across the top of her scalp.

He set the razor aside and began wiping away the remaining shaving cream with a clean, warm towel.

Lydia looked at him through the mirror.

“Anthony, I want to believe you.”

“But?”

“But it’s hard to forget that you offered Malcolm a car not to marry me.”

Anthony sighed.

“All right. Let’s talk about that.”

He carefully wiped the last of the lather from her forehead.

“The truth is, Margaret was getting a new Nova.”

Lydia nodded.

“She told me.”

“And Teresa was getting the Firebird.”

“All right.”

“We’re putting a Pontiac 350 and an automatic transmission in that car. It’s going to be a beautiful automobile when it’s finished.”

Lydia smiled.

“I’m sure it will be.”

“But I knew Malcolm was going to make a big production out of his sister getting a car.”

Anthony shook his head.

“He would’ve complained that Teresa was getting something and he wasn’t.”

“So you bought him a car?”

“That’s right. But I needed a way to offer it to him without making it look like I was just handing him something because his sister was getting something.”

Lydia listened.

“And I knew he was having second thoughts about getting married.”

Anthony continued wiping her scalp.

“So I told him I’d help him get the car if he didn’t marry you.”

Lydia looked at him.

“That’s still a terrible thing to do.”

Anthony nodded.

“Maybe it was.”

“Maybe?”

“All right. It was.”

Lydia smiled slightly.

Anthony continued.

“But here’s something you ought to understand. I never told him he couldn’t date you. I never told him he couldn’t see you. And I certainly never told him he couldn’t be involved in his child’s life.”

Lydia considered that.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, that’s the truth.”

Anthony folded the towel.

“I figured if he wasn’t rushing into marriage, we’d have time to meet you. Get to know you. Figure out what kind of arrangements needed to be made.”

He shook his head.

“Instead, the whole thing turned into a big negative situation.”

Lydia looked at him.

“Well, Anthony, from my side of it, it looked like you were trying to buy me out of your son’s life.”

“I understand that now.”

“And you can understand why I was angry?”

“Absolutely.”

Anthony looked directly at her.

“But I hope you can also understand that I wasn’t trying to abandon my grandchild.”

Lydia nodded slowly.

“I think I’m beginning to understand.”

Anthony smiled.

“Good.”

He examined her scalp carefully, checking around the ears, across the crown, and along the neckline.

Then he reached for the antiseptic.

“Well, let’s get you finished up.”

He applied a small amount to his hands and gently worked it over her freshly shaved scalp.

Lydia smiled.

“That feels nice.”

Anthony inspected his work one final time.

“No cuts. No missed spots. Everything came off beautifully.”

Lydia reached up and touched her head.

It was completely smooth.

“Oh, Anthony, you did a wonderful job.”

He smiled.

“Well, I had a good teacher.”

“Frank?”

“Of course.”

He removed the towel that had been resting across her shoulders, the same towel he’d been using to keep the razor clean during the shave.

Then he unfastened the white cape and carefully lifted it away.

Lydia stood up from the barber chair.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then she turned toward Anthony.

“You know something?”

“What’s that?”

“I came in here this morning expecting to have an argument with you.”

Anthony laughed.

“Well, I figured that was probably going to happen.”

“And instead, I think I actually got to know you.”

He smiled.

“Same here.”

Lydia looked toward the middle barber chair.

“You know, Anthony, I really do want something better for my child than what I had growing up.”

He nodded.

“I believe you.”

“And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life fighting with Malcolm’s family.”

“Neither do I.”

She smiled.

“Then maybe we can make this work.”

Anthony extended his arms.

“Come here.”

Lydia stepped forward, and the two shared a warm hug.

For the first time, there was no argument about the car, no judgment about her job, and no accusation about her intentions.

Just two people beginning to understand one another.

Anthony walked her toward the rear door.

He opened it for her.

Lydia stepped outside, then turned around.

“Anthony?”

“Yes?”

“Are we going to do this again tomorrow?”

He smiled.

“Absolutely.”

“Same place, same time?”

“Seven o’clock. I’ll be here.”

Lydia smiled.

“Thank you, Anthony.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

She walked away.

Anthony stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her leave.

Then he closed the door and returned to the barber chair.

He cleaned the straight razor, wiped down the equipment, and folded the used towels.

He was just finishing when he heard the front door unlock.

Frank walked inside carrying his newspaper.

“Morning, Anthony.”

“Morning, Frank.”

Frank glanced toward the barber chair.

“Well, I see you’ve been busy.”

Anthony laughed.

“Yes, I have.”

“How’d it go?”

Anthony leaned against the counter.

“Better than I expected.”

Frank smiled.

“That so?”

“Yes. Lydia and I had a pretty good conversation.”

Frank nodded.

“She’s a nice girl.”

Anthony looked toward the middle chair.

“Frank, there’s something you never told me.”

Frank raised his eyebrows.

“What’s that?”

“That Lydia is Evelyn’s daughter.”

Frank stopped unfolding his newspaper.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he smiled.

“Well, I suppose you were bound to find that out sooner or later.”

Anthony shook his head.

“And apparently there’s something else you haven’t told me.”

Frank looked at him.

“Oh?”

“Lydia says you’re her father.”

Frank slowly lowered the newspaper.

“She told you that?”

“Yes.”

Frank looked toward the middle chair.

Then he sighed.

“Well, Anthony, there are a few things about those years that I haven’t talked about much.”

Anthony laughed.

“Apparently.”

Frank walked toward his chair.

“Did she tell you anything else?”

“Oh, she told me plenty.”

Frank shook his head.

“That girl has her mother’s mouth.”

Anthony smiled.

“She certainly does.”

He picked up his coat.

“But I’ll tell you something, Frank.”

“What’s that?”

“I think I misjudged her.”

Frank nodded.

“That happens.”

“And I think Margaret was right. I should’ve gotten to know the girl before making decisions about her.”

Frank smiled.

“Your wife is a pretty smart woman.”

Anthony laughed.

“Don’t tell her that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Frank set his newspaper on the counter.

“So, is that the end of it?”

Anthony shook his head.

“No.”

Frank looked surprised.

“No?”

“She’s coming back tomorrow morning.”

“For another shave?”

“That’s right.”

Frank smiled.

“Seven o’clock?”

“Seven o’clock.”

“And you’re doing it again?”

“Absolutely.”

Frank laughed.

“Well, Anthony, I guess you’ve found yourself a new customer.”

Anthony smiled.

“No, Frank. I think I’ve found something a little more important than that.”

“What’s that?”

Anthony looked toward the rear door.

“The mother of my grandchild.”

Frank nodded slowly.

“Well, that’s a good start.”

Anthony headed toward the front door.

For the first time since learning about Lydia’s pregnancy, he wasn’t thinking about how to keep her away from Malcolm.

He was beginning to think about how he could help her build the kind of future she’d never had.

And somewhere across Kenosha, Lydia was beginning to believe that perhaps Anthony Balistreri wasn’t the unreasonable, stubborn old man she’d thought he was.

Maybe, just maybe, they could become a family after all.