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When I turn around, Dad’s watching me from the door to the living room. I’m not even angry anymore. Despair and disappointment fill me from head to toe as I go upstairs to my bedroom. He knows what I’d say if I thought there was any point at all in trying to shame him.
If Mom saw you now, she wouldn’t recognize you.
* * *
On Saturday morning,I’m alone in the house watching TV when the front doorbell rings. We’re not expecting anyone, and I don’t recognize the person standing on the front step.
I open the door to a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. Her hair is thick and a rich brown, and there’s something familiar about her bright blue-green eyes. She smiles, and I see she’s holding an orchid with delicate white blooms in a pot.
“Hello, you must be Chiara,” she says, without an ounce of self-consciousness. “We haven’t met. I’m Ginevra Fiore.” She wears a white silk shirt and gray slacks and carries a designer handbag with a chunky gold chain. There’s gold jewelry around her throat and in her ears, and her nails are long and painted burgundy.
She pauses, as though this name is supposed to answer all the questions that are flying through my head. Finally, one word sticks.
Fiore.
Those eyes. The shape of her mouth. That air of confidence.
Her smile dims. “Oh, please don’t be scared. I just came to give you this and introduce myself. I’m Salvatore’s sister.”
She puts the orchid into my hands and I stare at the incongruous object. Am I supposed to understand something from this present? “Why the plant?”
“I was sorry to hear about your mother’s passing.”
Oh, yes, Salvatore must have made it sound sosad. “Did your brother tell you to come here?”
Her smile comes back, and this time it’s mischievous. “He knows better than to tell me to do anything. He asked me if I wanted to meet you, and I said yes, but that I’d come by myself.”
Someone talking back to Salvatore. It sounds incongruous to me, and suddenly I’m curious about her.
“I suppose you can come in.” I stand back and gesture inside. I sound ungracious, but Ginevra doesn’t seem offended. As she steps over the threshold, she gazes around the entrance hall.
“You have a beautiful home.”
“Thanks. Mom did all the decorating.” It’s a shame that it was with Dad’s dirty money. Did she know that he was involved with criminals the whole time? The question has been haunting me since my seventeenth birthday. I’ve been going over and over her behavior that night and how she seemed in the weeks leading up to my birthday. Her sudden nerves and weight loss, like she was worried about something. Mom was always such a happy woman. Never carefree, but content. I feel instinctively that she didn’t discover what Dad was really up to until recently, and it horrified her.
“Chiara?”
I realize I’m still standing with my hand on the open door, and close it behind me. As I lead her through to the lounge, I say, “Sorry. There’s so much on my mind lately.”
Ginevra’s lips press together in sympathy as we sit down on the sofas. She places the orchid on the coffee table. “I understand. It’s a lot to deal with all at once, a death in the family and a marriage on the horizon. Our family always does everything at breakneck speed.” She holds up her hand and shows me a diamond engagement ring flashing on her finger. “I’ve only been wearing this for two weeks. The wedding is in two months. I’m freaking out.” Her smile is nervous but excited.
I stare at the enormous stone on Ginevra’s finger, dread solidifying in my belly. On my eighteenth birthday, I’ll be presented with a ring like this. I can already feel it weighing down my hand.
“Is your fiancé a criminal as well?” As soon as the words slip out, I bite my lip.
If Ginevra has taken any offence to what I’ve said, she doesn’t show it. After musing for a moment, she smiles and says, “I suppose in the traditional sense of the word, yes. But there’s a lot more to a person than whether they break the law or not, don’t you think?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. For me, someone taking a lax approach to right and wrong constitutes a huge part of a person’s character.
“Such as how a person treats their family,” Ginevra continues. “For the Fiores, we put family first. Always. You’re going to be family to me soon, and that means Salvatore and I and everyone else will protect you. All the Fiores will fight to keep you safe, no matter who your enemies are.”
But what if my enemyisa Fiore?
“So, tell me, what do you think of my brother?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”
“It’s early on. You still have a whole year to get to know each other, and marriage is for the rest of your lives. I met my fiancé the night he put this ring on my finger.”
