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“All I am saying is that it wouldn’t be smart to harden your heart and close your mind when you don’t know the full situation,” my mother reasoned.
“You’re right,” I agreed.
“Of course I am, honey. I’m your mother. That’s my job.”
“You were wrong about the right woman, though,” I said, teasing her because I knew she could take it, because she wouldn’t take offense.
“Oh, sweetie. That’s okay if I was wrong about that. Because the point of this wasn’t to prove that I know you and what you need best, but for you to find someone who brought you some happiness. She did that, didn’t she? At least while she could.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, getting up and kissing my mom’s cheek. “Yeah, she brought me happiness.” More than I had even been aware of at the time. I didn’t fully appreciate the depths of it until it was ripped away from me, and I had to learn how to try to function without it.
“That’s good to hear. Now, go find this girl. Figure out what she has herself involved in. Then give her a chance to explain before you condemn her. And don’t go listening to any of these hot-headed Costa men if they say any different.”
“Lorenzo actually kind of had the same thing to say that you did,” I said.
“Yes, well, that’s what makes him so good at what he does,” she said, nodding. “Go on. You have work to do,” she said, getting up, and prompting to do the same. “But Milo?” she called, making me turn back.
“Yeah, Ma?”
“When you find this girl, and you work everything out, I am going to want to meet her. At my table. Or yours,” she added, now that I had one.
“She’s a really good cook,” I told her.
“Oh,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart dramatically. “Honey, you have just made me the happiest mom in the world. Go. Find my first daughter-in-law.”
I didn’t have quite as much faith as my mother did about the whole situation, but my steps felt a little lighter as I left her house, as I ducked back into the SUV, and took it to my Brownstone.
Inside, I found that Lorenzo had gathered several of the capos. Brio, Cesare, Salvatore, Santi, and Silvano. Though the latter was probably about keeping the man busy so he didn’t go stir-crazy about his step-brother, and not because he technically belonged at this kind of meeting.
“Kittens are good,” Brio said, nodding his chin at me. “Left some instructions on how to take care of ‘em. But I’m around if you’re not,” he said.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Avery had been the one taking care of them,” I admitted.
“Did a good job. Fat and friendly,” Brio said, shrugging.
“What did your ma have to say?” Lorenzo asked.
“That she never interviewed Avery. She’s sure of it,” I added. “You know my mom,” I finished.
And they did.
The woman knew damn near everyone. And she never forgot a face.
The people at all the grocery stores and bakeries she frequented. The daughter of her florist she’d met one time. Every office worker at every doctor or dentist she had ever been to in our lives.
If my mother said she had never met an Avery, she’d never met an Avery.
“There is the chance that Avery isn’t her real name,” Salvatore said, giving me a wince, like he was sorry about having to be the bearer of bad news.
“That’s true,” Lorenzo agreed.
“It’s possible,” I agreed. But I wasn’t buying that either. She was too quick to respond to her real name. Usually, people struggled with false identities because they’d been trained from birth to answer to one name only.
“Avery,” Cesare said. “That’s not a common name. Has anyone tried looking up the name in the city. You’re sure she’s from the city?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright,” Cesare said, reaching for his phone.
“She didn’t leave anything personal behind?” Lorenzo asked.
“Everything she brought with her,” I told them. “But she’d grabbed her purse on the way out. What?” I asked, catching Silvano’s gaze fixed on the bag from Saks that was still beside the door. As far as I could tell, she hadn’t even gotten around to opening up the surprise shoes.
“You bought your house manager shoes?” he asked, shooting me a raised brow look.
“You’ll get it someday,” Santi said, shrugging it—and all the implications behind it—off.
“Never gonna fucking happen,” Silvano said, making a few of the guys share a smirk. Because, at some point, they’d all said something just like that.
“She didn’t take the shoes,” Brio said.
“No,” I agreed.
“Designer shoes,” he added.
“I know,” I said.
“Dunno. Figure if she was an opportunist, she’d grab them on the way out too,” he said.
That was another fair point.
“How old is she?” Cesare asked, still swiping away on his phone.
“Twenty-six.”
“She did a good job,” Brio said, walking around the dining room.
