by Becky Melby
“That’s what Mitch said. Right before he fired me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” She opened her bottom drawer, pulled out a stack of files, and slammed them on her desk. “I need boxes.”
“I’ll go get you some.” He disappeared, and she continued to dump the contents of her career onto her desk. Five minutes later he returned with boxes. And Vito.
Dani held up her hand. “I know. You warned me.”
“Yes, I did.” Vito picked up a stack of papers and set them in a cardboard box. “I’ll take this down to Agatha.” Keys jingling, he walked to the elevator then stopped and turned. “Now you can move out of that apartment, and I can quit worrying.”
She shrugged. “Now it’s the only apartment I can afford.”
“You move in with us.”
Flicking a tear away, she blew him a kiss. “You’re my angel, Vito.”
Dani tossed the envelope from her final paycheck onto the kitchen table. It lodged between a bowl crusted with two-day-old Shredded Wheat and a cup of long-cold chai tea. Her canvas bag sat on the floor by the door, where she’d dropped it after walking out of the Times building with her career in a cardboard box. At least a week ago, maybe more.
Still in the baggy Twin Shadow shirt and worn-thin shorts she’d slept in two nights ago, she padded barefoot across the marble tiles and onto the champagne-colored carpet of her living room. As she stood in front of the window, a red-winged blackbird ducked its tail feathers into the birdbath then hopped in. A series of frenetic shakes and flaps shot water like a spasmodic sprinkler. Midday sunlight reflected off flying droplets. For the first time in a week, walking outside sounded slightly more appealing than sleeping. If she had what it took to put on real clothes, she might actually give in to the lure of sunshine. But she didn’t have what it took to think, much less get dressed. There were decisions to be made and she was vaguely aware that she had to make them.
Any day now she’d wake up at a time that could actually be called morning. She’d feel rested and ready to begin this new phase of life. She’d pick up a newspaper—one without her byline—and look for a job. And a cheaper place to live. Or she’d pack her shriveled pride and move back to her old room so her mother could have a fresh start at running her life.
“You move in with us.”
Maybe, Vito. Maybe.
Strange to be needing an apartment when she already had two. One in a neighborhood she couldn’t afford. The other in a neighborhood she couldn’t show her face in. The thought brought to mind the face of the Roman statue.
The last word she’d heard out of his mouth—as an EMT bent on one knee and Nicky loosened her arms from around his neck— was “stupid.” After leaving three rambling messages explaining why she’d done what she’d done, she’d given up on calling Nicky.
She’d given up on Nicky. Period.
But she had no idea what to do with the ache in her chest that threatened to double her over every time she thought of him. Did he think of her at all? Did he miss her, or had his anger blocked all the good times from his memory? Had he mailed the diary? Dani rested a fist on the windowsill. She’d expected him to call about that. Even if he couldn’t say a civil word about anything else, he should have had the decency to let her read the rest of it.
Rena had called twice and left tear-filled apologies on her voice mail. She had no idea who had told her she’d lost her job. Dani had answered with a text. IT’s NOT YOUR FAULT. TELL CHINA SHE CAN STAY IN THE APARTMENT FOR NOW.
For now. Until the day she’d wake up with the energy to tell China she had to find another place.
As she headed for the bedroom, her phone bleeped. A text message, or the last dying gasp of an uncharged phone? She slogged across the carpet and found the phone buried under two charge card bills.
COMING OVER. BRINGING ANNA AND FOOD. GET DRESSED. Evan. How did he know she wasn’t dressed? Salt streaks tightened on her cheeks as she remembered how to smile. With a sigh that rearranged the mound of soggy Kleenex on the table, she trudged to the shower.
Sweat stung his eyes. It was too hot to run. Nicky’s new mantra slowed with the change in the pace of rubber slapping concrete. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
He’d ignored all her calls. Hadn’t even listened to her messages after the first one. Sorry…sorry…good intentions…blah…blah… blah…
What he chastened himself for with every step was not the pride that refused to call her back, but the temporary insanity that had allowed him to fall for her in the first place. She was a loose cannon, an accident waiting to happen, and a dozen other clichés that described people a guy should avoid like the plague.
But those eyes. And the blush of sun on ivory skin. And the curves that made him act like his father. He swiped his forearm across his eyes and convinced himself it was only sweat. She’d only been in his life for a matter of weeks. People said it took three weeks to form a habit. This was one he needed to break, and cold turkey was the best way to do it.
He walked the last block home. Taking the steps two at a time, he almost tripped on Gianna, spot cleaning the carpet at the top of the stairs.
“Sit.” She patted the top step. “Doesn’t matter if you sweat on the rug today.” She sat back and leaned against the wall. “Talk.”
He sat, leaned against the opposite wall, and closed his eyes as the words roiled inside and foamed to the surface. “Is it too much to ask to meet a girl who is who she appears to be?”
“She lied to you?”
Had she? “Lies of omission.”
“Were her motives pure?”
“No. She was after a story.”
A damp salt-and-pepper curl rolled onto Gianna’s forehead as she bent to look him in the eyes. “And protecting Rena.”
Nicky slapped the floor. “I’m supposed to protect Rena.” His lips didn’t come together after blurting his sister’s name. Heat rose up the back of his already hot neck.
“So. There you have it.”
“What do you mean?”
Gianna smiled, squeezed his shoulder, and picked up her rag. “Think about it.”
“You want to help?” Dani punched the couch pillow under her head and rolled on her side to stare at her intervention committee. “Come with me to talk to China tomorrow. Help me pack up my stuff.”
Anna crossed tanned and waxed legs. “I have to go to a shower in Illinois with my future mom-in-law. Should you go back there? Is it safe?”
“No. That’s why I wanted you guys with me.”
“Says the lady with killer feet.” Evan squinted with one eye. “Or is it your heart you want us to protect? Worried about running into Spaghetti Man?”
The name, combined with the deadpan face, snapped the last, tight little shred of Dani’s sanity, and she laughed until fresh, healing tears, coursed onto her shirt. She stood, pulled Evan then Anna to their feet, and enveloped them both in a hug. “Thank you.” She grabbed a snippet of the Nicky dialogue that had become the soundtrack to a string of meaningless days. “I finally have a reason to smile.”
“Isn’t that a song?” she’d answered. “Or does the song say a reason to live?”
Find that. A tiny voice whispered in a foggy crevice of her tired brain. Find your reason to live.
Her phone rang. Mopping her face, she pulled away from her reasons to smile and picked it up. Was this her answer? My reason?
My Nicky?
An unfamiliar number displayed on the screen. “Hello?”
“Hello.” An elderly woman’s voice. “Is this the woman who called Frank Brekken last week?”
“Yes it is. This is Danielle Gallagher.”
“This is Lois Brekken, Frank’s wife. I hope you don’t mind me calling. Is this a good time?”
“Yes.” She looked up at Evan. “How can I help you, Lois?”
“I overheard Frank’s side of your conversation. Have you mailed the diary yet?”
“No.” She thought of the leather book on
the floor of Nicky’s car. “I’ve had some things get in the way, and I haven’t finished reading it.” And maybe I never will.
“I understand. That’s how life is, isn’t it? The reason I’m calling is Frank’s birthday is in two weeks. Our boys will be here, and I was hoping Frank could share the diary with them. I don’t want to rush you, but—”
“It’s no problem. I’ll make sure it gets sent right away.”
“Thank you. You see”—Lois’s voice drew to a whisper—“Frank has cancer. He may not have as much time as he thinks.”
Dani wiped fresh tears as she punched the number she’d sworn she’d never dial again. Once again the recording stabbed her heart, and once again she spoke to a machine.
July 27, 1928
Bracciano’s side door slammed. Sweat rolling down reddened cheeks, Franky ran into the back room. “Can I hide under the table, Frazzie? I’m a bad guy, and Luca won’t ever find me there.”
Francie ruffled his hair and laughed. “Not now.” She pulled another linen napkin from a wicker basket and picked up the iron. “Get Luca and you two can help me fold.”
The side door slammed again. Footsteps pattered through the kitchen. Luca’s dark curls clung to his temples. He swiped the dampness from his forehead. “You’re not hided.”
Franky’s nose wrinkled. “Frazzy wants us to fold napkins. That’s girl work.”
“It is?” Francie matched corners on the cloth she’d just pressed. “And what is boy work?”
“Catching bad guys.”
“And putting them in the slammer.”
Francie nodded. “You’re right. I’ll do the girl work, and you two keep us safe from bad guys.”
“And put ’em in the slammer.” Luca’s chubby fingers made the motion of locking a door.
Franky put his hand on Luca’s back. “Come on. You be the robber this time.”
They ran out the door, leaving Francie alone with her thoughts and the crucifix. And the calendar on the wall.
Today was Mr. Walbrecht’s birthday.
She propped the back door open wider and finished the ironing. Renata was alone in the kitchen. Francie picked up a slice of fresh bread and took a bite. “Your husband has his faults, but no mere man has ever made bread this delizioso. I think I’ll go work on your dress for your anniversary.”
Renata’s cheeks pinked. “Do you think I’m a silly woman to be still in love with him?”
“No. I think you are a hopeful woman with dreams of a better future.”
“Time, and God, will tell.” Renata mopped perspiration from her face with a towel then washed her hands.
Francie peered into a steaming kettle. “It smells fishy. What is it?”
“Risotto ai frutti di mare. Rice and fish and vegetables.” Renata stirred the concoction. Carrots, tomatoes, and parsley swirled around chunks of fish, wafting hints of saffron and fennel. “My mother added clams and mussels. I was homesick today. This reminds me of Bracciano.”
Francie nodded. “Do you know what I want when I’m homesick? It will make you gag.”
Her friend tipped her head to one side. “What is it?”
“It’s called grut.”
“Groot?”
“Kind of like that. Theo said I never pronounced it right because I’m not Norwegian. It’s made of milk and flour.”
“And…?”
“And nothing. If we were lucky, we had butter on it. On Christmas we got cinnamon and sugar to sprinkle on top.”
“Poor families make do. We had this”—she held out a spoonful of rice and fish—“because my brothers fished and my mother grew vegetables.”
“Why did you leave?”
Renata leaned the spoon against the pot. “My husband’s family is very superstitious. They believe the spirits of the dead will return.” She stared into space, as if crossing the ocean in her mind. “They believe you should never enter or take anything from a place where there has been a murder.”
Francie shivered. “There was a murder?”
“Santo’s father. He owed money he could not pay.” She stirred the soup again. “They took his life because they could not get his money. In front of his wife and his children. My mother-in-law said her husband’s spirit would return with other angry spirits and never let them live in peace. She turned her back on her home, and that is when we decided to come here and start a new life.” She picked up a bowl and ladled soup into it. “We do what we have to do, don’t we? Here, take some to your sister.”
Francie’s hand spread across her throat as she drew in a tight breath. She stared at the bowl held out to her. “You are so good to her.”
“She is a child of God.”
“How could she have allowed this? She has a child. How could she have done this to Franky? And to me?”
Renata offered a sympathetic smile that only seemed to fuel the fire in her. “You have lost the sister you once knew. It is your loss that makes you angry.”
“It’s her choices that make me angry. I sacrificed everything for her, and look what I get in return.”
“You sacrificed for that little boy. And you would do it all over again even if you’d known what your sister had become.” One eyebrow tilted. “Look what our Savior gets in return for His sacrifice.”
There were times she didn’t appreciate her friend’s wisdom. “I can’t feel mercy the way you do. I don’t know how.”
“You don’t have to feel it. Just do what God is calling you to do.”
Francie felt her throat constrict. Renata’s challenge pulled her away from the subject of Suzette. Today was Mr. Walbrecht’s birthday. She looked up at the clock. She had three hours to decide if she was going to do what God was calling her to do. She took the bowl of soup and carried it across the street. With no feeling of mercy, she spoon-fed her sister then spent the rest of Monday afternoon in her shop, letting the drone of her sewing machine drown out the voice of her conscience.
“Just do what God is calling you to do.” Just before six, she left the shop and walked back to Bracciano in the dark, fingertips trailing the cold wall as she descended. A strange peace had enveloped her from the moment she’d decided to do the right thing.
It was time to catch bad guys. And put them in the slammer.
CHAPTER 31
Nicky tossed his damp towel on the bed and threw on shorts and a T-shirt. He tensed at a knock on his bedroom door. Gianna’s comment still simmered, and he wasn’t in the mood for more psychoanalysis.
“You in there?” Todd turned the handle and opened the door before Nicky had time to answer. He wore a uniform that looked freshly pressed, which hopefully meant he was on his way to work.
Nicky gestured to the chair and sat on the bed.
“Man, you look awful.” Todd rubbed his chin. “But the ladies love the scruffy look.”
“Are you here for a reason?”
“Yep. I’m here to surrender. You can have her.”
“As if you were ever in the running.” He shoved his hair out of his eyes. “But you win by default. She’s all yours now.”
Todd reached in his pocket. “Well she’s all yours.” He held the Javelin keys out to Nicky. “I’m waiving the last payment for all the good times. You can still keep her at my place.”
Nicky’s mouth opened. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He stood. “Gotta get to work. Just remember this gesture of kindness when I steal your ex.”
“You can’t steal an ex.” The damp towel hit Todd in the middle of the back as he walked out.
Nicky stood in the hallway. A single guitar chord drifted through Rena’s door. He pushed it open the rest of the way. She sat on her bed, head bent over her guitar, hair forming a shaggy fringe around her face. She looked up. Tears streaked her face.
They hadn’t talked much in the past two weeks—other than the night he’d forced her to tell him everything Dani hadn’t. He’d been too preoccupied licking his own wounds to deal with hers. Maybe it
was time. She’d spent a night in jail, and her boyfriend was still there. As grateful as Nicky was for that fact, Rena had to be hurting. He stuck his head in. “How’s it going?”
“Life? It’s not.”
Uninvited, he walked in and cleared a place on her loveseat. “I don’t think I’ve actually told you how proud I am that you stepped in and stopped that robbery. Mad as all get out that you took that chance but proud of you.”
Rena wiped her face on the corner of her sheet. “Thank you.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Jarod? No. I’m glad he’s gone. He was way more of a jerk than I realized.” She tipped her head to one side. “It was a God thing, don’t you think, that he happened to have all that crack on him when the cops came?”
Nicky nodded. “I guess it was.” He stared at a dark green sweatshirt wadded in a corner. “What happens now—with the Sevens?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. They might retaliate. They won’t be protecting me…or the restaurant.” Vacant eyes knifed him. “Yeah, I lied about that.”
“Protecting you, and us, is my job.”
A sneer curled her lip. “Should be Dad’s job.”
He leaned forward, folding his hands. “What’re you crying about, Wren?”
She swiped her cheek. “Dani got fired. Because of me. She told us not to involve her in anything illegal, and then I had to go and—”
“You talked to her?”
Rena shook her head. “She wouldn’t answer my calls, so I called the paper and they said she didn’t work there anymore.”
“Maybe she quit.” Maybe she moved.
“I called her friend Evan. He said she got fired. And she hadn’t left her apartment since she got fired. He was worried about her.”
His chest muscles tightened. “She’s smart. She’ll find another job.”
A pale ring blanched around Rena’s mouth. “You think she’s that messed up over a job? Duh. You are so dense. It’s you. I checked your phone. She’s called you like a million times. Did you call her back even once?”