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Zia preened a bit, enjoying the attention. “My papa’ set it up.Un matrimonio combinato.I was in the old country, seventeen. I didn’t want to go. There was a guy in Brancaleone who liked me.” She looked wistful. “But he didn’t have no money, and Papa, well… You didn’t argue with him. So I go to America to get married, but when I get there, what do I find? I find my cousin Costantina’s got herself pregnant with that pig Gaetano. Dirty littletroia.She had Micheal. Her oldest boy.”
“The current boss, right?” Bruno said.
“Yeah. Costantina had been in America for years. She wasn’t fresh off the boat like me. She spoke English, she wore the right clothes, she knew the right dances.” Zia shrugged. “And she was pretty.”
Everyone looked away.
Zia Rosa cleared her throat. “So, anyway. I’m the one who has to talk to the old bastard, if we want to get anywhere.”
“Forget it,” Bruno said. “You’re not going anywhere.” Zia Rosa patted his cheek, which made him frantic with anxiety. “I’m serious!”
“I’m sure you are, honey,” she soothed. She pulled Tony’s letter from his hand, smoothing it against her knee. “It broke Tony’s heart, what happened to Magda.” Her voice frogged up. “Such a beautiful girl. You look so much like her, it makes my heart hurt. Look at her.” She dug for her wallet and peeled a photo out, leaning to show it to Davy and Connor. They made sympathetic noises. Then she showed it to Aaro. “This is my Magda. Bruno’s mamma. Wasn’t she gorgeous?”
Aaro looked, and sucked in air. “Oh.Fuck.”
He snatched the photo from Zia Rosa, and stared at it. His voice was not loud, but it had a quality that stopped the buzz in the room.
“What?” Bruno rapped out.
“The girl I met,” Aaro said. “The one who died.” He held up the photo. “She looked just like this, except for the hair. This could be her.”
Bruno stared down at the other man. Murmurs swelled around them. “My mamma’s been dead twenty years,” Bruno said. “I saw her dead body. I saw it put into the ground. Don’t mess with my head.”
“Christ, no. I didn’t mean to say I thought this woman was your mother,” Aaro said hastily. “The girl I met was in her early twenties.”
“A coincidence, then,” Con said. As if offering up a vain hope.
Voices swelled. Someone grabbed Tony’s letter. Zia Rosa was crying, noisily. People were talking all at once. And he was done. The voices were a jangle of meaningless sound. His heart thumped like a big bass drum. He kept seeing the image of Mamma in her casket, her dead face painted with make-up to cover her bruises. It was fixed in his mind, in all its bleak detail. It did not fade or soften with time.
All this time, he’d gotten it wrong. Tony and Kev had taken care of Rudy and his goons. He’d told himself that justice had been done.
But he’d always known, in his heart. Justice had fallen way short.
A hand tugged his arm. Lily. He got obediently to his feet, let himself be led out of the room. He was grateful to her, for taking charge.
The sliding doors clicked shut behind them. Lily slid her arms around his waist and pulled him close. He tucked her head under his chin, and tried not to squeeze. She was injured, bruised. Fragile.
And he wanted to cling to her, like a child. He looked at the circles under Lily’s eyes. Her hair was smoothed into a corkscrewing red-gold ponytail. Most of her bruises were hidden under the sweater. But the purple line under her eye, that he’d given her himself. When he popped her in the nose during his dream freak-out.
He hated how fragile she looked. How exhausted. Hated how powerless he was to protect her. He tried like a maniac, with everything he had. And all his efforts were utterly inadequate.
The door slid open, and Tam came out. “Either of you need anything else?” she asked. “Painkiller? Something to help you sleep?”
They both shook their heads.
“OK, then. The freshest lovebirds always get the dovecote,” she said. “Follow me. There’s lots of stair climbing, but who gets tired with all those endorphins pumping through your body?” She nudged Bruno. “The bedside table is always stocked with latex.”
“Mind your own business,” he snapped.
She chuckled as she touched a panel, which slid into the wall, revealing a spiral staircase.
“Don’t you dare walk up those stairs,carissima.”
It was Val, in the pool of light spilling from the noisy living room.
Tam turned to him, her eyes gleaming. “Don’t be such a hen,” she said. “As if I would. I’m not that kind of hostess.”
“I have to watch you like an eagle.” Val’s faintly accented voice was silky with mock menace.
