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Fay is wiping down counters and the large butcher block in the center of the kitchen. The sink behind her is empty except for one large skillet. Something clicks in my mind as I remember what day it is.
“Fay, isn’t this supposed to be your day off?” I ask as I walk into the kitchen.
Fay turns to me, grabbing a dish towel to dry her hands. “Well, yes.” She hems and haws for a moment. “But with all of the uproar in your life lately I thought it would be better if I came in. You have a guest staying in the house. And you’ve been working too hard, neglecting yourself. You need to eat,cara.”
“I can feed myself,” I tell her. “Thanks to you for teaching me.” It’s true, Mamma never cooks.
“But you never practice,” Fay grumbles, shaking her head. “You’re rusty. You can’t make the old dishes good unless you do them regular. It’s all in the hands, in the muscle memory.”
“I can manage. You were a good teacher.” I put an arm around her narrow shoulders. “Fay. Look at me. Take the day off. I’ll still be here tomorrow. You can keep babying me then.”
Fay harrumphs, but reaches behind her and undoes the bow of her apron. She makes a big show of folding it and laying it over the back of the kitchen stool where she has sat and mixed ingredients by hand in her giant mixing bowl since I was a child. “You promise me you’ll eat?” she asks, jabbing an index finger at me. I reply by raising my own and making a cross over my heart.
Ten minutes later, I watch the second car of the day drive away from me.
Silence. Solitude. Normally, I’d be thrilled.
Sigh.Time to get to work.
But my solitude doesn’t last long. I hear voices at the front door, and a minute later the security man on duty appears in the doorway to my office.
“Giovanni Vincenzi here to see you,” he announces.
Giovanni? My mind goes back to our last encounter, the night of the party. Adrenaline spikes in my system as I remember how he grabbed me in the dark. It’s on the tip of my tongue to refuse him entry. But if I do that, he’ll know I’m afraid of him. And I can’t stomach that.
“You can let him in,” I tell the guard. “But please stay here, outside the door.”
He gives me a brief appraising look, then a quick nod. He disappears and returns with Giovanni, who enters the office.
“Sera,” Giovanni says in his signature smooth tone as he shuts the door behind him. “I’m so glad to have caught you at home.”
He’s dressed impeccably, as always, in an expensive suit and shoes so polished you could see your face in them. He’s wearing an expression that looks like grave concern on the surface. But I know him too well for that.
“Giovanni,” I say, standing. “Come in. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Well, I came to check in on you. Long overdue, really. I ought to have come the day after the unfortunate business at your party.” One corner of his mouth tilts up. “My father sends his regards. Where is Carmine, anyway?”
“He’s out,” I say. I force a smile. “But he’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to let him know you stopped by to pay your respects, Giovanni. Unless you had some business to discuss with him?”
“Actually, I came here for you.”
“Oh?”
“I heard about your engagement.”
“I see. Well, there was no need to congratulate me in person, Gio. Truthfully.” I give him a polite smile.
“I’m not here to congratulate you, Sera. I’m here to warn you.”
“Warn me? What on earth are you talking about?”
Giovanni strides across the room, brow furrowed. I stay behind Daddy’s desk, careful to keep it between the two of us. “Sera. I know you likely don’t think much of me after the other night. But please believe me when I say, I’m here because I’m concerned for you. Antony D’Agostino is not the person you think he is.”
I keep my smile plastered on my face. “And what sort of person do I think he is?”
He blinks. “Well. Obviously, the sort of person you can imagine yourself being married to.”
“And you think he’s not?”
