We followed her through the entryway, down the hallway, to the dining room. We took a seat at the dining room table, while Maggie filled two glasses of water for us and set them on the table. Sabrina ran into the room holding a big silver dollar in her hand, looking up at Donovan.
“Can we practice now?”
“Show me what you got.”
Sabrina started doing sleight-of-hand imitations, trying to hide the coin in her palm, even though she couldn’t close her hand fully around the silver dollar. With mock seriousness, Donovan gently took Sabrina’s hands, trying to reposition them to show her how to correctly make the coin disappear. I turned to Maggie.
“Where is everybody?”
“Caroline is running errands. Mama and Grandma Jean are at the grocery store. Papa should be home soon. How’s our story coming along? It’s not going to be boring is it?”
“Of course, it won’t be boring. Everyone loves stories about long-lost, unrequited love reignited years later by fate,” I said.
“Oh, that’s good, Jon Fixx! Are you sure you’re not going to make stuff up? I just can’t see my love life being all that interesting to anyone.”
Boy, Maggie, you do not have a clue. “Don’t worry, you’re story is going to sizzle.”
“If you say so. But it’s going to be because of your writing, not our story,” Maggie said, not insincerely.
“I’ve interviewed a lot of couples over the years and, trust me, I have written about some boring romances. Yours is not one of them. How are you and Marco holding up with the run-up to the wedding, all the planning and prep and tension that goes along with it? This is about the time when the stress starts to show.”
“We’re hanging in there. I’m afraid it’s going to be anticlimactic.”
I sensed something amiss in her tone, but given what I was about to do, or not do, when Marco arrived, I knew I could be reading her wrong. “What do you mean?”
“There’s all this planning and hard work, and it’s so emotionally draining. Then everything happens in an hour and we’ll be married. I’m afraid it’ll go so fast I won’t be able to enjoy it,” she said, frowning.
“Don’t worry, it won’t be like that. You’re Catholic. It’s going to be at least two hours,” I said with a straight face.
Maggie lightly punched my arm in reproach. “Jon, you’re terrible.”
I decided to take advantage of this unexpected opportunity alone with Maggie before Marco arrived. “Can I ask you something?”
“Haven’t you been doing that since we met? You almost know more about me now than my fiancé does.”
You have no idea. I paused, gathering my thoughts. Where was I going with this? I wasn’t sure. The point of no return would be coming soon, and I knew it was either now or never. Was I actually going to unmask Marco to Maggie and Vespucci? Accuse him of doing things I could not prove? Call him out as the father of a bastard, a murderer, and an informer? Was I crazy? My decision hinged in no small degree on whether I believed him to be in love with Maggie. Had he manufactured this relationship, or was he truly in love with her? I wanted to know how serious Maggie and Marco had been as teenagers. If it had been more than just a fling then, there was a good chance it was real now. If so, I would need to re-evaluate my suppositions about Marco’s current intentions. I knew I was grasping at straws.
“I doubt that’s true,” I said. I took a breath. “I want to open the story in your teen years, when you and Marco first got involved. Treat it like Romeo and Juliet minus the family drama. That you and Marco were first loves. You fell madly for each other, but unforeseen life circumstances pulled you apart. Then fate brought you back together years later and the first love spark was reignited.”
“I’d rather you start the story later when we met as adults.” Something I’d said clearly bothered her.
“But it will make for such a great hook. That you knew Marco since you were a baby, and then one day you woke up and realized you were madly in love with him.”
“But, Jon, you know how that first time ended. I’m not so sure my father would like to see that in print.”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Maggie. I would never write anything about what happened that night between Marco and your father. But stressing that you were teenage first loves will make for a great story.”
“But I’m not sure it’s even accurate, Jon. Remember, Marco is almost five years older than me. I’m not sure I was his first love,” Maggie said.
“You don’t think he was in love with you back then?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?” Maggie snapped. Her tone pushed me back into my chair. I was most definitely onto something, though I wasn’t sure if Maggie’s reaction was more how she felt or how she thought Marco felt. Her tone softened. “Sorry, Jon. Like I said, it’s been stressful around here. Marco has been preoccupied lately.”
I’ll bet he has. “I’m sure it’s just the stress of the wedding. We don’t need to talk about this anymore. We can wait until Marco gets here.” And then I’ll sign my own death warrant.
“Your questions just brought up a lot of emotion for me. I’m not sure why,” she added, laughing uncomfortably. “Marco worked for my father by that time, so I was more like the boss’s daughter than a family friend. Maybe the idea that he was moving into a forbidden zone was mixed in there. I don’t know. We didn’t date that long. Maybe a month, maybe a little longer. Marco had wanted to keep it quiet because he didn’t think Papa would approve. He was sure right about that part.”
Something occurred to me at that moment. “Has Marco ever forgiven your father?”
“What do you mean? For what happened that night? Oh, I’m sure he has. My father reacted the way I think any father would.”
“I don’t mean for that. I mean for making him relocate to Italy?”
A look of surprise and consternation crossed Maggie’s face. She had clearly never considered that possibility. She was thinking about it now, though, and it wasn’t sitting well with her. Before she could respond, I was startled by a voice from behind me, making me almost jump out of my chair.
“Maybe you should be asking me that.”
Marco stepped into the kitchen. From the corner of my eye, I could see Donovan across the room, still in his chair but his feet planted, ready to move in a split second if necessary. With a slight movement of my hand, I told him to hold. Marco crossed the few steps from the doorway to my chair, resting his hand on my shoulder. I inadvertently shuddered at his touch.
“Hey, Jon, are we a little jumpy today? Had too much coffee?” Marco crossed in front of me to get to Maggie, kissing her on the cheek. “What are we talking about?”
Maggie was unfazed by her fiancé’s kiss, her attention still fixated on this new revelation I had apparently sprung on her. She turned to Marco. “Is that true, Marco? Did Papa and your father send you to Italy because of what happened between us when we were kids?”
Like a flash of lightning, I realized I hadn’t thought this all the way through. The last thing I needed was Maggie getting angry at her father for a years-long secret I had uncovered.
“They felt that things would settle down if I went to Italy to learn how to run the family business overseas,” Marco said matter-of-factly.
“Is that a yes?”
“I’d say there were multiple factors, and that was one of them.” He looked at me. “Jon, are you digging a hole for yourself?”
His eyes flashed a red warning at me. Was he talking about the topic at hand, or was he referring to something more sinister, like Jim Mosconi? Having Donovan close by gave me strength.
But before I could respond, Maggie jumped in. “Jon was laying out for me how he wants to write our story, so he was checking on the facts of our childhood to make sure it would work. That’s why we’re talking about this. I never put two and two together.”<
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I knew I would have to tread carefully if I was going to uncover Marco’s secrets. But I had no idea how to proceed, or how far to push. Who was I to think I could draw this guy out? If everything I uncovered about Marco was true, that meant he was able to work day in and day out with a Mafioso Boss, sleep with the Boss’ daughter, even ask for her hand in marriage, all the while snitching to the FBI. The absurdity and improbability of it hit me so hard that it almost knocked the wind out of me. To cover my panicked reaction, I started coughing but, to my chagrin, I was unable to stop. With a concerned look on her face, Maggie handed me my glass of water. As the coughing jag finally faded, I took my time drinking the water to gather my thoughts.
I recognized that if Marco was an FBI informant, then his nerves were made of something stronger than steel, which begged the question, “How was anything I did going to draw him out?” Amused at my self-delusional belief in my capabilities, I was suddenly overcome with a second attack of self-deprecating laughter. No one realized I was laughing, however, because I choked on the water going down my throat, forcing the liquid back up through my nose and throat, spewing water out both orifices of my face. Maggie grabbed a towel for me to wipe myself off. Marco stood off to one side, a disgusted look on his face. Donovan crossed the room to pat me on the back. I kept coughing to remove the remaining remnants of water from my windpipe, finally settling back in my chair. Sheepishly, I looked around at everyone. “Sorry about that. Something got stuck in my throat.”
Maggie leaned forward. “Are you okay, Jon?”
I nodded. From out of nowhere, Sabrina appeared at my side. “Can I show you my trick?”
The last vestiges of my coughing fit were just finishing up with a tear running down my right cheek. She looked so cute, standing before me with an earnest look on her face, that all I could do was nod.
Maggie stepped over to her niece, putting her hands on Sabrina’s shoulders and said, “Sabrina, darling, I’m not sure if right now—”
“No, it’s okay, Maggie. Sabrina, let’s see the trick.”
She glanced back over her shoulder at Donovan for encouragement.
Donovan responded, “Do it just like you did for me.”
Excited, she said, “Okay.” She pulled the silver dollar out of her pocket and held it out for all to see. “Here I have this coin in my hand.” We played along. Out of the corner of my eye, I stole a glance at Marco. His jaw was clenched, his right hand balled up. I was on dangerous ground.
Sabrina took her left hand and passed it before her right, doing a good job imitating a magician, even though the coin was too large for her hand. She moved the coin from one hand to the other, her right hand staying up, her left hand dropping low. “See, no more coin. Now, look!” She moved her hands around again, and said, “Everyone watch Jon.” All eyes turned to me as Sabrina’s right hand touched my ear, crossed behind it, and then reappeared for all to see. “And, voila! I just pulled it from behind Jon’s ear,” she exclaimed.
We all clapped. Maggie leaned over, kissing her niece on the top of her head. Sabrina stood in the kitchen, beaming, accepting our accolades. She turned to Donovan. “Can you show me another trick?”
Donovan answered, “I don’t know if I can do it right now.”
Sabrina’s beaming smile suddenly became a frown.
I quickly responded, “Go ahead, Donovan. We’ll be in the study.”
I could tell from Donovan’s reaction that he didn’t think it wise for me to go into the study without him. But during my coughing-laughing-water episode, I decided to see this thing all the way through and I needed to be alone with them. I would do what I had planned, and if I was wrong about Marco, it would all come out in the end. Looking over his shoulder at me, Donovan let Sabrina drag him back to the table, her excitement making her oblivious to anything else around her.
Doing my best not to let Donovan’s concern affect me, I turned to Maggie and Marco. “Shall we?”
“Our last official interview,” Maggie said, taking Marco’s hand and giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek as she pulled him toward her.
I brought up the rear, following them as they walked hand in hand down the hallway into Vespucci’s high-ceilinged study. Marco and Maggie sat down on a love seat on the far side of the room. I sat on a plush reading chair set at an angle to the love seat—adjusting it so I could face my couple—and pulled out my handheld tape recorder and set it on an end table near the sofa. I was about to ask my first question when my mind went blank. I didn’t know where to start, wondering if I was really foolhardy enough to ask questions of Marco that might make him want to kill me on the spot. I realized Maggie and Marco were staring at me, waiting for me to begin. I started with something innocuous.
“Are you both ready for the big day?” I asked.
Marco tilted his head in a nonchalant, tough guy gesture I interpreted as indifference. I didn’t understand what Maggie saw in this guy.
Maggie responded, “We still have a lot of work to do. All the setup is done, so now we’re putting it all together. Mama is helping with everything, taking a lot of the stress off.”
“Are you sure you want to spend every day for the rest of your lives together?” I ventured.
Maggie gave me a searching look, clearly taken aback by my question. With a scowl on his face, Marco growled, “What kind of a question is that?”
I had to agree. I still wasn’t sure what direction I wanted to take, but my question had started me on a path. Trying to gather my thoughts, I scrambled. “I ask this of every couple in my final interview. It’s more rhetorical than anything, kind of a reminder of the beautiful commitment you’re making to each other every day for the rest of your lives.”
My answer didn’t satisfy Marco. I couldn’t read Maggie’s expression. She was staring hard at me.
I just pushed through. “Let me give you a rundown on how I’d like to write the novella. I’ll open with your childhood, that you grew up in the same neighborhood and your families were very close, that you spent a great deal of time together. Because of the age difference, though, nothing much happened between you early on. But when Maggie started blossoming into a beautiful, young woman, things between you changed. At this point, our older Romeo found it impossible not to notice our Juliet and started coming around the house more, finding reasons to stop by and talk to her, even outside the family gatherings. A budding romance started, but the innocent lovers kept it quiet from the parents because they weren’t sure how it would be taken. Suddenly, the budding romance is cut short by Romeo leaving for Italy to learn the ropes in the family business.”
Maggie sat up, and turning toward Marco, said, “Why didn’t you tell me that Papa had you sent away?”
Irritated, Marco responded, “I already explained what happened. We can discuss this in private later if you want.”
“Jon already knows everything and he’s not going to put any of it in the story.”
“That’s true,” I said, my heart rate increasing.
Uncomfortable, Marco shot a fiery look at me before responding. He paused a moment, his tone of voice calmer than his eyes. “Like I said, I think that was one small factor in the overall decision-making process between my father and yours. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Of course it does. I want to know what my father did.”
If Maggie confronted her father about his role in Marco’s exile, this could backfire on me. Rather than make Marco look bad, it could strengthen the bond between Maggie and Marco while putting a strain on Maggie’s relationship with her father. Vespucci would not be happy about that and would have only one person to blame. I immediately shifted gears, deciding to come at Marco from a different angle.
Cutting Maggie off before she could respond to Marco, I said, “Let me tell you the rest.” Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not ready to let it go. She turned back to me
without interrupting.
“For the next ten years or so, Maggie grows up into an intelligent, beautiful young woman, doing extremely well with her academic studies, transitioning smoothly from high school to undergraduate school at NYU, finding her direction in life.” I could tell Maggie was only half listening. Marco was glaring at me. I pressed on. “She discovers a love for anthropology and decides to go to graduate school to get her Ph.D. However, something’s missing. The men she meets never measure up. No one she dates has that something special. Over the years, there are a few boyfriends of some significance, but no one who comes close to being marriage material. It’s all about her studies and her family. But she knows that one day she definitely wants children.”
The word “children” got Maggie’s attention. Unlike many of my brides-to-be who often brought up their desire for children, Maggie had been silent on the subject. Maggie laughed uncomfortably. “I’ve never mentioned children.”
I produced my most winning smile. “That’s called poetic license. But I am right, aren’t I? You do want kids.” I was heading toward the point of no return. Was I really going to do this? Before Maggie could respond, I pushed on. “And, then, we have Marco. The next ten years of his life begin with an abrupt change in lifestyle, a move to Italy to learn the ropes of the family business and eventually run the foundry. As time passes, Marco finds himself in the same predicament Maggie found herself in. He can’t seem to meet anyone he really connects with. He has a fling here or there but nothing serious. Within a few years, the factory is extremely profitable, much of the success a credit to the man running it. The Balduccis, Marco specifically, become favorites of the Italian administration and begin to make friends in powerful positions. Marco is living the good life. But with all this success, he feels something is missing. He is feeling the desire to settle down, to begin a family.”
I paused, not sure where to go from here. Do I jump off the cliff? My lips were moving before I could silently answer my own question. “Marco, I do need to verify one thing. You don’t have any children either, right?”
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