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Are you flirting with me?Alfredo remembered she had asked him once.
“Okay!” he blurted out, his heart speaking for him.
Full of love and kindness.
And hope.
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Franco got home in the middle of the night, feeling as if he was in a sort of dream, sleepwalking through his own life. A bereft Elvira greeted him with his crying children and Roberto’s son, Patrizio. The family undertaker was summoned, and Roberto was dressed and laid out in Franco’s magnificent library. The next morning, a delicious repast was set in the dining room and florists delivered massive flower arrangements, one after the other, filling every corner of the villa.
At midday, the onslaught of guests began, and the Fiorvantis arrived to pay their respects to Don Roberto, and so did families from Partinico, Monreale, Corleone, and other towns around Palermo. Franco was the grieving host, busy with guests, family, and business, though he detected the envy of the other families as they took in his villa,giardino, and men. He sensed they’d move against the Fiorvantis soon, exploiting the instability after Roberto’s death. Franco would be ready for them.
The night before the funeral, he found himself exhausted, and the villa had finally emptied of everyone except immediate family. He and Elvira went up to bed, and Franco crawled into the sheets. He was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking of Violetta. Her tear-filled eyes. Her bloody nightgown. Her arms flung out like an angel asshe fell. Then he saw Roberto’s face. The veins bulging in his forehead. His eyes boring into Franco as they stilled, in death.
Franco tossed and turned, then gave up. He rose, retrieved his robe, and slipped it on, going downstairs. He passed the library, which held the body of his brother. He didn’t go in. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like after tomorrow, to have his twin away from him, buried under the surface of the earth.
Franco entered the kitchen and lit the candle, his thoughts agonized. He knew Roberto was dead, but he would never be gone. He was half of Franco, and Franco was half of him. Both men occupied the same space, defying all natural laws, which never applied to the human heart anyway.
“Franco?” Signora Esposito appeared in her robe and long white braid. “You couldn’t sleep?”
“No.”
“I heard you.” Signora Esposito crossed to him and placed her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry, I know how much you loved Roberto.”
“Thank you. It’s hard to believe he’s gone.” Franco looked around at the leftovers, covered by cloths and lids. “What do we have that’s sweet?”
“Yourerbanetti?”
Franco felt his chest tighten. The pastries made by Violetta. He couldn’t bear to taste one now. “Anything else?”
“A nicecassata? Everyone remarked it was very good.”
“I’d love some, with anisette. Something to help me sleep.”
“I’ll get it for you.” Signora Esposito went to the counter, and Franco sat down at the table.
“I feel badly for Patrizio, all alone now.”
“Yes, I hope you and Elvira adopt him.” Signora Esposito came over with a glass of anisette.
“We will.” Franco sipped the anisette, enjoying its licorice taste. “That will make Elvira happy, too.”
“That’s how it should be. All of us together in the house.” Signora Esposito broughtcassataon a plate, with a napkin and a fork.
Franco sighed. “I’m glad the guests are gone.”
“There were so many.”
“Yes, and did you see the other families? They’re jealous. They want to be as big as we are. They’re growing, but they’re not as organized.”
“They don’t have you.”
Franco smiled. “I don’t disagree, but they want what we have. I should pick a successor to Roberto.”
“You have time. The funeral’s only tomorrow.” Signora Esposito brought her own anisette to the table, then sat down, taking a sip. “This is delicious.”
“Isn’t it?” Franco forked into thecassata, which was good and lemony.
