Once he’s gone, I turn my attention to the curtains.
The windows in this room were bare before, so I have to put the curtain rods up first. I measure once, twice, three times, make marks with the pencil, drill some pilot holes, and finally get the brackets up and level. Somehow, an hour passes. I’m frustrated and sweaty by the time I’m done attaching the rods and hanging the curtain panels, but I’m also very proud of myself.
I go back to the pile of bags from various boutiques, looking for the wood bead curtain tiebacks I found, but then I find the box with the baby mobile and sink into one of the armchairs to open it. Beneath layers of pale blue tissue paper, beautiful forest colors emerge. Grasping the loop at the top, I gently pull the handmade mobile out of the box.
A rush of awe fills me as I hold it up. Forest creatures made of felted wool hang from the strings. There’s a deer, a raccoon, a rabbit, a bird, and three little pine trees. I don’t know why I was so drawn to this piece, but I fell in love with it the moment I saw it on the display.
The crib isn’t built yet, so there isn’t a place to hang it over, but then I decide to suspend it from the end of the curtain rod so it can give the room some whimsy. Once it’s up, I stand with my hands on my hips, looking back and forth between the mobile and the paint swatches. And that’s what decides it for me. The cool-toned, calm sage green is a perfect match for the mobile. Ding ding, we have a winner.
Next, I unbox the pieces of the crib, separating each of the components into piles on the floor. Once everything is laid out, I start to read the instructions. Admittedly, it’s going to be a big job trying to put this thing together. But that means it’ll be even more rewarding when I get it done. I don’t need Armani’s help. Not with this crib and not with anything else.
My phone buzzes inside my pocket with a call. Is it him? My stomach instantly knots.
But when I take out the phone, it just says No Caller ID. I hesitate and then pick up.
“Hello?”
“Candi. It’s me. I’m calling from a burner phone. Orloff has mine.”
I gasp, the phone slipping from my fingers, but I catch it before it hits the floor.
“Juliana! Oh, thank God.”
It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, because the shock of hearing her voice makes my entire body weak. Tears sting my eyes as my heart thrums with sweet relief.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” I murmur, my voice catching.
There’s a beat of silence and I can sense her analyzing my reaction, my every word.
“No thanks to your husband. Did you know he was going to burn the bakery down?”
The accusation in her voice makes my cheeks go hot, even though what she’s saying isn’t remotely true. “No. How could you ask me that? I was there with you, remember? Why would I go if I’d known? Besides, I would have warned you, I would have tried to stop it—”
“I just thought it was mighty convenient how you ended up in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to get rescued.”
“I almost died that day,” I tell her, my voice going sharp. “And you obviously made it out alive yourself, but I’m not accusing you of luring me there to bump me off.”
“Touché, and fair point,” she concedes. “Look, things are happening, Candi. Things that your husband and his little minions set into motion. I’m not safe where I am.”
Does she mean she’s not safe from her uncle, or from Orloff?
“Isn’t your fiancé able to protect you?” I ask, trying to fish for more information.
“I’m starting to wonder if he thinks that’s in his best interest,” she says quietly. “Or if he wants me out of the way more than he wants to go through with this wedding.”
“Oh, Jules. I’m sorry. Is there any way you could—”
“Shh,” she snaps. “I don’t need your pity. Just listen to me.”
The desperation in her voice is unmistakable. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her like this. The fear in her tone gives me a sinking feeling.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I say softly.
“My uncle has allies—lots of them—but they’re not happy right now. They’re having a shit fit about all the violence with the Bellantis, plus the old Brunos in Italy thinks my uncle is getting too big for his britches. Not to mention, the fire made things a thousand times worse with the Russians. They’re blamingusfor the hit that your husband put out on Orloff, I guess because we’ve had this long-standing feud with the Bellantis for so long and haven’t ‘dealt with it.’ I just don’t think it’s a good idea to be pissing off so many mobsters.”
“No. You’re right. I get it.”
“So I’m thinking the best course of action is to just eliminate ofallthe Bellantis and end the squabbling once and for all.”
