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“Good morning, Mr. Moretti,” she said, turning to look at him. He was dressed in a black suit, his jacket open and hands in his pockets. “Can I get you something?”
He didn’t move, his stance so statuesque she wondered if he was even breathing. “No,” he said finally, the word echoing in the tense silence.
She resumed making the frosting as he moved toward her. Instinctively, she took a step away. If Katrina had taught her anything, it was to stay out of the way whenever possible.
Corrado grabbed a bottle of water and stood off to the side, watching some more. Dr. DeMarco walked in after a few minutes and gave Corrado a curious look before his eyes found their way to her. “Good morning, dolcezza.”
She breathed a sigh of relief at the kindness in his voice. “Good morning, sir.”
“I’m surprised to see you awake so early today,” he said. “I take it Carmine’s still asleep?”
“Yes, sir.”
The timer for the oven went off. Haven pulled out the cake layers as Dr. DeMarco stood near her, gazing out the window with a wistful expression. The sun was rising, lighting up the driveway and the thick forest surrounding the property.
“They’ll be here soon,” he said, his attention shifting to the cake. “Italian cream cake.”
“I made it for Carmine’s birthday.”
Irritation flashed across his face.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Corrado asked from across the room. “I’ve never felt such a strong sense of déjà vu before.”
Dr. DeMarco clenched his teeth, turning his gaze outside. “When you finish, child, I need you to make sure Carmine’s awake. I’d go myself, but something tells me he’s probably not decent.”
He stressed the word decent. Haven’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, sir.”
Corrado laughed. “I’m quite sure this is one of those times Carmine was referring to, Vincent.”
Dr. DeMarco shook his head and left the kitchen, while Corrado lingered. “When you wake Carmine, tell him his godfather is coming.” He walked out, muttering, “Tale il padre, tale il figlio,” under his breath.
* * *
Teresa Capozzi enjoyed the finer things in life—the fastest foreign cars, the thickest mink furs, and the best vintage Dom Perignon wines. An air of superiority oozed from her pores, her demeanor shaped by her greed. It was well known that Mrs. Capozzi thought of nothing but herself and her next drink. Nobody liked her, not even her husband of forty years, but she didn’t care. Teresa Capozzi didn’t want to be liked; she wanted to be envied.
Haven watched out the window in the kitchen as the woman stepped out from the passenger seat of the rented Porsche and smoothed her tight black dress. She sauntered toward the house in her high heels, ignoring Salvatore when he tried to take her arm.
o;Why us especially?”
“Because your father and I would be killed, Carmine,” Corrado said. “You’d become pawns.”
He was quiet, letting it all sink in. “Something doesn’t make sense to me. Why would Frankie risk his life keeping the kid? Why not sell Haven? He didn’t care about her.”
“We can’t know for certain,” Corrado said, “but Monica Antonelli wasn’t stable. She was, uh . . .” He waved his hand as if to think of a word. “. . . fuori come un balcone. It was the reason they moved to the desert. Rest, they called it. Rehabilitation from a mental breakdown, but she never recovered. I think Frankie took advantage of an unfortunate situation to try to help his wife. No one would ever suspect it, and he lived so far away she wouldn’t be seen by anyone who could recognize her.”
“Plus, no one keeps small children for labor,” Vincent added. “You can’t have a toddler washing dishes or cooking meals. No one would’ve considered she had been sold and not killed because of that. Child slaves end up one place, and they may have broken conduct and murdered innocents, but some things were still off limits to us all.”
Carmine sighed. He had a lot to think about. “Is that all? Can I go?”
Corrado snickered. “He may barge in, but at least he has enough sense to wait to be dismissed.”
“Not always,” Vincent said. “Sometimes he just walks out.”
* * *
The next morning, Haven made breakfast while Carmine sat off to the side, watching her. She’d have moments where she was herself, laughing and being playful, but as soon as Corrado came near, it slipped away. She moved around him like there was magnetic polarity, always keeping a certain amount of distance from him.
It reminded Carmine of his mom, that fact not helping to brighten his mood. Nostalgic, the sorrow and longing crept in, bringing him down. It wasn’t his graduation and he felt cheated.
