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I was wrong. I see that now.
I told myself I worked alone, that I didn’t need the help or companionship of anyone else. But one night near a cave in Tuscany showed me otherwise. Sergio and Timeo are nice enough to insist I could’ve taken down Peterson on my own. But I know better. We worked better as a team.
And I never had a real team at my back at the CID. I’m sure some people do. I’m sure some detectives build a family in their workplaces, but that wasn’t me. I was too bitter and vengeful to ever give anyone a space to collaborate.
The CID leaves a bitter taste in my mouth now. Still, I look back once in a while.
I see that my apprentice has earned her spurs and has risen in rank. They’ve appointed a new director in Grady’s place, since Grady resigned after Peterson’s death. Likely thought he was next, and if he was as dirty as I suspect he was, he’s not wrong. I like seeing my apprentice working hard at her job, seeing the department run smoothly in my absence. It’s confirmation for me that I did the right thing moving on.
And here… here at The Castle. I’m finally home.
We don’t stay here all the time. Occasionally, we’ll spend a weekend in downtown Boston at one of Mario’s condos on Beacon Hill, especially if he has business in the North End. And we spend a lot of time at his place on the North Shore of Rockport, on the water’s edge, by the quaint little shops that border the shell-lined streets.
But Mario knows how much I love it here at The Castle. How happy I am to call it my home. He knows as much as I love him—and I do—I love this family. I love having sisters to gossip and shop and laugh with. Brothers who protect and tease and love me. Nieces and nephews, a grandmother, and for the first time in my life, someone who actually feels like a mother to me.
Mama cooks and scolds and kisses and hugs, teases the boys for fighting over food (which they will continue to do, despite the insane volume of food she cooks for them.) She points out when I have a snag in a sweater and takes it so she can sew it up with a needle, buys me little trinkets in town when she sees something she thinks I’ll like, and gives me little bits of Italian wisdom from time to time that I cherish.
“Dagli amici mi guardi Dio, dai nemici mi guardo io.”
God guards me from my friends; I guard myself from my enemies. A true Rossi family motto.
“Una casa senza donna è come una lanterna senza lume.”
A house without a woman is like a lantern without a light.
And my favorite one of all, “Dopo la pioggia, arriva il sole.”
After the rain comes sunshine.
The other girls call her Tosca. I asked her if I can call her Mama. Mario does, and it feels so natural to me. She loves that I do and beams whenever I call her name.
One night at dinner, Mario pours me a glass of wine. I was never much of a wine drinker before the Rossis, but I’d never had wine from their vineyard. It’s in a class all of its own.
“Mario, we’re heading into town,” Santo says. “You coming, brother?”
He looks to me. Santo, Tavi, and the rest often head into town to the North End, or to hit a concert or club, but Mario joins them less and less frequently. Tonight, we had plans of our own after mulling over wedding details all day, and I really want him to stay home with me. I’d let him go if he really wanted to, but—
“Nah, man, not tonight,” he says.
Santo ribs Tavi and one of them says something about “never thought I’d see the day,” but I’m honored. I love that Mario, the world-class player, has finally decided to “settle down.”
I squeeze his hand.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” I whisper in his ear, while Mama pulls out wedding catalogs and Nonna plies us with large, quivering bowls of trifle. He nips my ear discreetly, making me stifle a giggle.
“Oh Lordy,” Marialena says, grinning at us. “You ready for more bambinos, Nonna?”
“I knit three sets booties,” Nonna says. “Uno, due, tre. You two have three bambinos, bam bam bam.”
I look in surprise at Mario. “You know anything about this?”
He shrugs. “Says it’s good luck. Something about the church and the timing or something something. I dunno.”
“You have three bambinos, Bella,” Nonna says with a smile. “Si?”
I smile back. “Maybe Nonna, but not today, okay?”
She squeals with laughter and fetches the bottle of Limoncello. “Not today, then you drink with me.” We have a shot together while Mario shakes his head in wonder.
