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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.
The closer Teresa got, the better Haven could make out her features. The woman looked as if she were made out of plastic, her face expressionless and coated in heavy makeup. Her body was disproportionate, every part of her tucked and tweaked.
Dr. DeMarco greeted the couple as Celia made drinks, ignoring Haven again when she told her she could handle it. Haven threw together a cherry Coke for Carmine, spiking it with a little vodka. They carried the glasses into the family room, and Haven’s anxiety grew as she approached their guests. She handed a glass of scotch to Salvatore, her hand shaking from nerves.
“It’s nice to see you again,” he said.
“You too, sir,” she said, avoiding his gaze. Haven handed a glass of some orange liqueur to his wife. “Here you go, ma’am.”
Teresa took it, bringing it to her nose and inhaling. “This isn’t made right,” she said, thrusting it toward her and spilling some on the floor. The room went instantly silent.
“I’m sorry,” Haven said as she took the drink back.
She turned around and nearly collided with Celia, who grabbed the glass from her hand. “I must be losing my touch. I thought I made it perfectly.”
Teresa glanced between Celia and Haven. “I must’ve been mistaken,” she conceded, reaching for the glass again and taking a sip. “Perfect as usual, Celia.”
“I thought so,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “We all make mistakes.”
The expression on Teresa’s face said she didn’t agree.
Celia took a seat across the room, and Corrado sat down on the arm beside her. Haven handed the cherry Coke to Carmine and started to move away, but he pulled her into his lap and wrapped a protective arm around her. Teresa coughed as she choked on her drink, her eyes shifting to Dr. DeMarco as she let out a bitter laugh.
“Teresa,” Salvatore warned, but she simply smiled as he turned his attention to Carmine. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to stay long, Principe. We have a flight for a vacation in Florida, but I had to take a detour to wish you a happy birthday.”
“I appreciate it,” Carmine said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“It’s not every day my godson turns eighteen. This is a big deal.”
“Doesn’t seem that way.”
Salvatore laughed. “Oh, but it is. Do you have any plans this summer?”
Carmine’s grip on Haven tightened, but his voice showed no sign of distress. “Football camp. Other than that, we’ll probably just hang out before my brother leaves.”
“And after summer’s over?”
“I’m sure senior year will be kicking my ass for a while.”
Salvatore raised his eyebrows. “And after you graduate?”
Carmine remained silent for a moment. “College, I guess.”
Salvatore’s smile diminished. He glanced at Dr. DeMarco as if he expected him to speak up, but he didn’t say a word. “And the girl?” Salvatore asked, his gaze shifting to Haven. “I’m curious what your family intends to do with her. Given the situation, I gather you don’t plan to let her be sold.”
Carmine’s eyes narrowed. “Of course not.”
“Of course not,” Salvatore echoed. “And after you’re gone for college, your father won’t want to live here alone with her. Just think of the gossip. I’m sure the rumors are already aplenty.”
Dr. DeMarco cleared his throat. “I’ve been weaning her to the world, so she can join it.”
“That’s noble of you, Vincent, but I’m not sure that’s wise,” Salvatore said. “She must know quite a bit. How can we be sure anything she’s seen or heard won’t be disclosed to anyone?”
Dr. DeMarco glanced at her. “I’ll vouch for her.”
His words were met with a vicious laugh from Salvatore. “After what happened when . . . well, you know . . . I don’t think your opinion can be taken at face value on this.”
