SALVAGE PRIDE

21

“The house hasn’t seen company like that in a while. Next time, hopefully, we’ll be celebrating something much more uplifting.” His eyes drift to mine, an inscrutable energy passing between us before his gaze drops to where my hand still clasps his brother’s. When his stare reconnects with mine, the link is no longer present, and I’m met with cold indifference.

I feel cut off and dejected in a way I can’t explain. A part of me wants to yell at him and demand an explanation. Why should it bother him if I hold hands with his brother? He couldn’t possibly be jealous. He’s never shown the slightest sign of interest in me. How can you be jealous over something you don’t want?

“Zeno, Nevio, Antonio.” Christiano De Bellis joins our circle and nods at each man in greeting. “And this is Gemma if I recall correctly.” He extends a hand toward my mother, who tosses her red curls and grins.

“Yes, it’s lovely to see you.”

“And these are your girls, Antonio?” Christiano peers at all of us.

“The four here, yes. Gia, Luisa, Livia, and Marca. And these are our neighbors, the Bishops and the Larsons.”

We all smile and wave.

“Lovely young ladies, wouldn’t you say, Savio?” He draws a finely dressed young man into the group, who smiles graciously and nods his greeting. “This is Savio, my nephew. Antonio, you haven’t been to the city in a while, but Savio is one of the young men looking to take over the most recent organizational vacancy.” He’s being vague because outsiders are present, but the rest of us are all aware he means Silvano’s role as underboss. Someone will need to take over soon.

“That would be quite the honor,” Livia says with a coy smile, seemingly oblivious that Zeno is the other capo vying for his father’s old job. For those of us who know, the situation is endlessly awkward. Why bring up something like that at a funeral? Either Christiano was insensitive or he’d done it on purpose to goad Z. Either way, it makes him look like a jerk.

Savio nods and smiles but doesn’t say anything further about his ambitions. Instead, he offers Zeno a private word and a handshake of condolence. He appears to recognize how uncouth his uncle’s statement was and doesn’t wish to dig the hole any deeper. My first impression is that I’d like him if we ever had the chance to talk. Some of the Mafia sort can be self-important, but I don’t get that sense with him. I’m not sure how that would bode for a future as boss. A certain degree of arrogant ruthlessness is central to the role.

“The whole family appreciates you both coming out,” Zeno interjects. “I hope you’ll be staying for lunch at the house.”

“We have to get back to the city, I’m afraid,” Christiano says. “I’ve got a meeting with some important people, and I’d like Savio to join me.” He looks smug, and it makes me want to knock him on his ass.

Zeno’s eyes blaze with intensity, but I’m not sure if it's anger, jealousy, or grief stoking that fire.

When he speaks, his words give no hint at emotion. “I’m sure he’ll be an asset at any negotiation.”

“Yes, and it’s important I give thorough consideration to all my options before I make a decision.”

“I know you’ll do what’s best for the organization. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I need to get back to the house and check on our guests.” Zeno’s words are clipped, as though he’s reached his capacity for tolerance. Without waiting for an answer, he turns to collect his mother, who had migrated to the grave for a final private moment with her husband.

The rest of us offer our goodbyes to Christiano and Savio before returning to our cars. I am boneweary as I plop into the back seat, but our day isn’t even half over.

“YOU OKAY, DADDY?” I HAD THOUGHT I’D RUN UPSTAIRS AND FRESHEN UP AFTER WE MADE A BRIEF stop at home before going over to Hardwick, but when I spot my dad standing on our porch, staring into the trees, I have to check on him. He hasn’t been himself all day, even taking into account his grief.

He’s quiet, and we both listen as a breeze rustles the leaves on the trees around us.

“These past couple of days, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’ve led my life and the things I could have done differently.” He gives me a sad smile and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I ever tell you how we ended up here at the cottage?”

I rack my brain and realize he hasn’t. “I guess I assumed Silvano needed someone, and you offered to take the job.”

“Not exactly. We were young when we got married—your mom especially. I was twenty-three, and she was only eighteen. Nowadays, having a baby before you’re married isn’t uncommon, but back then, it was still frowned upon. Your mom got pregnant after we’d been dating for only a couple of months.”

My jaw grows slack as my father proceeds to rewrite the history of their relationship, erasing the doctored story I’d been told while growing up and had believed wholeheartedly.

“I had no money and was new to the family, but Silvano took me under his wing. He’d moved up

the chain of command quickly and had become a top-ranking capo in his mid-thirties. He’d gotten married two years earlier, in part to position himself to be underboss. He bought Hardwick to solidify his roots and give his new family a place to grow up alongside the other powerful residents at Tuxedo Park. Zeno was born close to the time they moved in, and Silvano recognized his need for help at the house. He wanted someone who was connected and knew I was in a situation. He approached me one day and said that if I planned to marry your mom, we could move to the cottage rent-free and work for him. I love the city, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for my kids to grow up in a place like Hardwick.” Dad pauses, turning his sad eyes to meet mine. “Who knows what would have happened without Silvano’s intervention. He changed our lives, and … I … I’m not sure I showed him the gratitude he was owed. Now he’s gone, and I can’t do anything to right the matter.”