The wedding plans finally did it. Howie wanted a big party. “I've got a ton of family and friends,” he said. “You and your mother must have a lot of people you'd like to invite too. This shindig will be amazing.” Carrie tried to imagine the press coverage when it was announced that Rose Manning's daughter was throwing a wedding for two hundred people. Rose Manning, who—as the archdiocese publicity department constantly reminded everyone—slept on a sofa so she could give extra money to the children in the shelter. Rose Manning, the Angel of Manhattan, who walked the philanthropy walk while she talked the philanthropy talk. “There's so much need out there,” Rose said in an interview shortly after Carrie and Howie became engaged. “How could I even think about spending money on something frivolous when I know there are children who go to bed hungry?”

Meanwhile, Howie was talking about maybe inviting two hundred and fifty wedding guests.

Carrie decided Howie had a right to marry someone who wasn't screwed up. “I come from people who hurt each other,” she said after she'd told him the wedding was off. “I won't want to do it to you, but I will.”

Nothing he could say changed her mind. Carrie didn't even cry during their good-bye. She waited until he'd gone. Then she cried so hard, she thought she'd never stop.

Carrie was in the home stretch; she'd survived I-95, and the Cross Bronx Expressway, and she'd managed to avoid going to New Jersey by mistake when getting on the Henry Hudson. So naturally, just as she was congratulating herself on her success, her cell phone rang. There was no way she was going to answer it while she was driving—forget that it was illegal, she didn't have the motor skills for that kind of multitasking—so she pulled off on 168th Street and managed to fish the damn thing out of her purse just as it stopped ringing.

Uncle Paulie had called and left a message. “I've thought of someone who can give you a lot of info.” His voice was triumphant. “His name is George Standish. Whenever Lu was in a show, George conducted the orchestra. But he was more than that; he was her best friend. He'd know what went on with Lu and Rose during those early years. I'll find his phone number and call you back. He's even older than I am, but he's still as sharp as a tack, so it'll be as good as talking to me.”

Carrie started the car again. It was nice to have family helping her out, she decided.

“HOWIE, I'm doing it. ”

“Carrie? Is that you?”