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His serious tone got our father’s attention.
“Shall we go to my office?”
Giovani looked at me and shook his head.
“Grazia should hear this too, I think.” My brother took a deep breath and fixed himself a glass of imported whiskey before taking a seat across the table from me. “Adrian Fiori died last night.”
The information was received with crushing silence. I think that for a moment, my father had stopped breathing, that’s how silent the room was. I focused on looking like I was too shocked to say anything.
“He’s dead?”Babboasked, staring at Giovani.
Before answering, Giovani cleared his throat. He was visibly uncomfortable talking about this like it was a business meeting when someone we knew all our life just died. “His body is at the Fiori family chapel right now. The funeral will be in two days from now.”
“Funeral. I see.”
I don’t know what I was expecting from my father. Maybe not sadness, but some regret of losing the chance to talk with the one he called brother for the most part of his life. Instead of showing any of that, helaughed. A joyful, screeching, almost malefic sound that made me still in my chair.
“Figlio di puttana[34], he is finally dead! Delfina!” She popped in the doorframe right away. “Bring us a bottle of champagne.”
The woman hesitated.
“Champagne,Don?”
“Yes. We need to celebrate.”
Celebrate? The suggestion made me feel sick to my stomach.
Delfina complied to his request reluctantly, while Giovani and I sat frozen in our seats, looking at each other in disbelief.
Babbofilled three glasses with champagne and gave each of us one.
“What are you two waiting for? Drink up.”
“Father…” I whispered, but he laughed again.
“This is a good thing, Grazia. Our enemy is dead. Why aren’t you happy?”
“Because he wasn’t just an enemy. He was Adrian,Babbo. He was your friend.”
“He was a danger to our family.”
“Please, stop.” I begged him.
“Why stop? Explain to me, daughter, why shouldn’t I be happy that a man who wanted all of us dead is now gone?”
“Adrian never wanted any of us dead. You two had your problems – whatever those were – but he never tried to hurt anyone. No Fiori did.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Grazia. Every Fiori hates you.”
Maybe Salvatore did now, but my father’s reaction was still wrong and disturbing.
“Please,Babbo, sit down.”
“Raise your glass. We’re toasting for this good news.”
“No!”
“Grazia, don’t you…”
