Fifteen minutes later, she strode to the kitchen in white pants, a matching linen shirt with short sleeves, and high-heeled black sandals, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Since Nonna was still in bed, she left her a note that Dante needed her.
Before she rode the elevator she called security and asked a guard to meet her at the garage level and walk her to her car. Dante would appreciate her extra-precautionary measure.
Her brother’s firm occupied a spacious suite on the tenth floor of a building situated on the Intercoastal Canal. At nine a.m. sharp Isabella knocked on the door of his office and entered without waiting for an answer.
“’Morning Bella, good timing. We’re going to the police station right away.”
Just as they exited his office, she caught a glimpse of Jonathan crossing the hallway, and smiled. All-business in a beige suit that heightened his tan and sent delicious tingles to her belly, he paused. “Good morning, Isabella.” His polite tone and stiff nod gave her a fit of giggles she hastened to repress.
No need to have the poor man fired by his holier-than-thou boss. After all, today was about business for her too. She winked and followed Dante to settle in the passenger seat of his car.
When she told him about the gun she’d locked in her safe he suggested letting him handle the situation. “Leave it there for the time being.” Any scandal related to the Sicilian mafia might attract bad publicity to his firm. “We’ll try to get away from negative situations. Pay attention to my eyes and hands, and remember the secret signs we used as kids when we didn’t want people to understand what we were up to. They may come in handy.”
“Sure I remember. It was a fun time.” She patted his arm, ready to go along with his decisions and satisfy him before demanding he go to Palermo and free Lorenzo.
At the police station, Dante identified himself and presented the required documentation for him and Isabella. The sheriff met them in his office and explained they’d arrested a man called Mario Benino after a resident from the Blue Waves building, Tom Walen, had called 911 and claimed the man assaulted his neighbor, Ms. Cantari.
“Mario Benino arrived from Sicily six months ago as a tourist. His visa had expired and should be renewed, but now the police wonder if they should have him jailed or deported. A strange case,” the sheriff added. “We need your side of the story, Ms. Cantari.”
“Mario Benino?” Dante exclaimed and nudged her arm discretely. “The name sounds familiar.”
Okay, she wouldn’t open her mouth.
“I think the man is the cousin of my best friend Lorenzo,” Dante remarked for the sheriff’s benefit, and then he turned toward her and narrowed his eyes in warning. “Now I wonder if he’s been assaulting you, sweetie, or trying to hug you? Sheriff, can I see him, please? Without my sister of course. Might be too much for her nerves in case this Mario is not the one I knew.”
“I don’t see any problem. I’ll take you to his cell.”
Dante’s shoe rubbed her foot. She glanced at him. He tapped two open fingers together. She understood his silent order, Together, and wriggled in her chair. “No way. I’m not staying here alone. In this place full of criminals. Sheriff, please.” She offered him a wobbling smile.
Sure enough, he melted. “I’ll stay with you.” He called a deputy and asked him to accompany Dante.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I spent part of my life here and the other part in Sicily.” Isabella distracted him with stories about her beautiful island where orange blossoms perfumed the air, where the wine tasted heavenly, and the pretty local girls cooked delicious meals for their suitors.
A besotted smile on his face, the man listened, and soon decided he’d love to visit Sicily.
Finally Dante returned. His satisfied grin reassured her. Somehow, he’d worked up a solution. “It’s him all right, our dear old Mario. I’m sorry for that huge misunderstanding, Sheriff. My sister panics so easily. She didn’t recognize Mario and screamed for help. Of course our good neighbors called 911, as they should, when they heard her cry and run. Is that what happened, sweetie?”
She nodded frantically. “I’m sorry, Dante, Sheriff. The garage is so dark. I’m always scared when crossing it.”
“Of course, we’re not pressing charges.” Dante opened his arms magnanimously. “If you’d be so kind to release Mario into my care, I’ll renew his visa if he plans to stay. I may even offer him a temporary job in my firm and get him a working permit. The least I can do after his ordeal.”
“Great.” The Sheriff left them to discharge the prisoner.
“Who’s the guy?” Isabella asked when they were alone.
“One of Marco’s mechanics who worked in his auto shop. I recognized him right away. I managed to tell him that I can help him or let him rot in jail. His choice. He promised to do anything I want if I get him out. I’ll have him work at the firm with one of our detectives. He’s not a criminal. I’m sure he’ll be loyal since I’m saving his hide. Now, not a single word out about the incident or our visit here.”
“Understand. I need a favor in return. You’ve got to go to Palermo and free Lorenzo. Emma is desperate.”
“Go to Palermo? Just like that? Did you forget Alexa is on bed rest? I can’t leave her now and risk our baby’s life if something goes wrong.”
“I’ll take care of Alexa. Please go, Dante. It’s not fair for Lorenzo.”
“I promise I’ll help him, but not now. Listen, you’d better take a taxi and go home. I don’t want you around when Mario comes here.”
Isabella sighed. If she wanted Lorenzo out of jail, she’d have to take things into her own hands.
Chapter Six
“Is something wrong with Alexa? Why did Dante summon you so early in the morning?” Waving her crochet hook, Nonna set down on her lap the afghan she’d started two years ago. Usually, the three-foot piece remained in the closet for months at a time unless the old lady needed a soothing therapy. The cup of herbal tea on the cocktail table indicated that Nonna’s nervousness had upset her stomach.
“Nothing wrong with Alexa other than her regular morning sickness.”
“Why did Dante want to see you?”
“Huh…” Her brother had specified she shouldn’t blabber about Mario Benino. “Oh, Dante? He…he wanted to talk to me about my application to law school.”
“What application? You haven’t applied yet.”
“Precisely, he advised me not to procrastinate. Places are limited and—”
“Isabella Cantari.” Nonna shook her finger. “Stop lying to your grandmother. Did he find out something about the man who attacked you?”
“Huh…I don’t know.”
“So he did. And he asked you to keep quiet. That monkey thinks I’m too old to keep my mouth shut. I don’t have dementia yet.” Nonna huffed and gulped her tea.
“Nonna, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. It turned out that the Sicilian man is a decent guy, or at least he can become one with some coaching.”
“Ah good. So Dante bought him into his camp.”
Wow, Nonna knew all the ropes. Maybe she could help.
“I’m going to change.”
“By the way, Emma called you. That poor girl always sounds so sad.”
“I’ll talk to her. Would you like to go to the pool with me?”
“Sure. I’ll put on my bathing suit.”
Half an hour later, Isabella placed her beach bag on a stone table by the pool and sprayed herself with jasmine-scented sun block while Nonna relaxed on a lounge chair. Beyond the patio extending high above the beach, a breeze ruffled the ocean with turbulent whitecaps. “It’s windy today.” Nonna re-adjusted her hat and tied its ribbon close to her neck. “I hope we don’t get a hurricane.”
“No hurricane in the forecast. Only a tropical storm. Let’s enjoy the few hours of sunshine before it rains.” Isabella peeled off her wrap, placed a cap on her head, and grabbed her phone.
Before Nonna tried to stop her with more comments, she tappe
d Emma’s number and ambled to the rail overlooking the beach where no one could hear her.
“When is Dante coming?” A mix of worry and anger underlined Emma’s voice.
How could she tell her Dante wouldn’t leave Alexa at the moment?
“Isabella, answer. Is he coming?” The scream pierced her ear.
“He’ll come, but not right away.”
“You are a bunch of selfish people,” her friend yelled in her ear. “I can’t live without Lorenzo. I’d rather die.”
Oh dear, her friend was being melodramatic, but with Emma’s Sicilian temper and her hyper-emotional state anything could happen—and would happen if Isabella didn’t interfere right away.
“Emma, I’m flying to Palermo tomorrow.”
A gasp reached her. “You? Oh Isabella, I love you, my friend, but you’re not your omnipotent grandfather who almost ruled our city or even your powerful brother who can convince a jury of whatever he wants with his smooth speech.”
“Don’t worry. I have a plan. I’ll email you my arrival time. Can you pick me up at the airport?”
“Seriously? Oh my God, Isabella. Of course I’ll be at the airport. I want you to stay at our villa. My parents will be delighted to see you and I’d feel better if you’re not on your own in your grandparents’ empty house or in a hotel.”
Not on her own? Jeez, how she wished Jonathan would accompany her and visit her beautiful island. Wistful wish. If she breathed a word about her plan, he and Dante would manacle her and lock her in one of their offices. She stifled a chuckle. Locked in Jonathan’s office wouldn’t be too bad.
“I’m not telling Dante or Nonna. Don’t tell Marco or anyone, please.”
“Of course not. Isabella, thank you. You don’t know how it feels to be in love and wanting the man you love next to you.”
“Hmm, I think I know.” She bit her lip the instant she blurted her feelings. Too late.
“You do? What are you hiding? You met a charming man. Tell me.”
“Not much to say. He’s a lawyer, friend of my brother. And—”
“Good-looking?”
“You bet.”
“Send me a picture.”
“I’ll show you one as soon as I come. Bye. I have a lot to do.” At least she’d managed to calm Emma.
Isabella went to sit next to Nonna. “Did Emma sound better?” Her grandmother had the knack for guessing too many things.
“Yes, much better after I talked to her.” Isabella opened her phone and started typing.
Her appeal letter should be direct and clear, emotional but professional, the way attorney Dante Cantari taught her to write during the three months she’d worked as his secretary last year.
A fat drop of water landed on her forehead, followed by several more. Isabella raised her head and frowned at the dark clouds threatening to ruin their afternoon.
“Nonna, it’s raining. We’d better go upstairs.” Isabella collected their towels and bag, held her grandmother’s arm, and rushed to the nearest door of the building as the downpour started.
Back home, she read carefully her four paragraphs, translated them from English to Italian and printed both pages. And finally she said a prayer for Nonna to sign her granddaughter’s document without reading it or asking too many questions.
Chapter Seven
Unfortunately Nonna read and re-read the sheet of paper, and then she lowered her glasses to glare at Isabella. “Have you lost your mind? Do you really think anyone with even half a brain would believe I suddenly remember that my dear Alberto told me two days before his death he had doubts about Lorenzo Raveno’s guilt?”
Isabella heaved a deep breath, ready to battle for the sake of Emma and her boyfriend. “If you, the highly respected widow of Alberto Cantari, sign this affidavit, everyone in Palermo will believe you. They will all be happy to see the longtime vendetta end.” Tears filled Isabella’s eyes. “For heaven’s sake, didn’t we have enough deaths in both families? Do you want them to kidnap me? Do you want Emma to kill herself in despair as she threatened an hour ago?”
Nonna cringed and brought a hand to her heart. “God forbid! What are you talking about?”
“You heard me, Nonna. I’m in danger. Emma is, too. How does it help us to keep Lorenzo in prison? He was as desperate as all of our family when the shot killed his best friend. We need to turn the Sicilian page and enjoy life in the U.S. I can’t do it with my friend so desperate, with my safety in jeopardy. You have the power to put an end to the suffering.”
Nonna closed her eyes. Heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. She sniffled and wiped her face. “Bambina, you and your brother are all I have left. If you think this paper would keep you safe, I’ll sign it. Shouldn’t we ask Dante first?”
“Sign it now. We’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Nonna wrote her name and encircled it with an elegant loop that many would recognize in Palermo, considering she’d directed a multitude of projects for charitable organizations and signed many proposals for social improvement.
“Thank you, Nonna. I’m sure Lorenzo’s mother and grandmother and Emma’s parents will all bless you.” Isabella kissed her grandmother’s cheek and rushed to her room to make a copy of the precious paper and hide it in her credenza.
“Isabella,” Nonna called from the door of her room. “You’d be naive if you think that sending this paper by mail will get Lorenzo out of jail.”
A gasp escaped from Isabella’s lips and she snapped to attention.
Nonna narrowed her eyes. “Ah, I see that you thought about it, too. Don’t tell me you’re planning to hand deliver it?” Her grandmother was too intuitive. Isabella averted her eyes. “You, crazy girl. Don’t do it, bambina. Marco won’t hesitate to kidnap you, rape you, and force you to marry him.”
“Don’t exaggerate, please. He’s not that bad, and I can defend myself, or simply avoid him.”
Concern etched a few lines on Nonna’s forehead. She shook her head. “Listen to me, if you’re determined to go, I’m going with you.”
“But it will be too tiring for you.”
“I’m only seventy-eight and in good shape. I’m going with you. And that is that. When are we leaving?”
“Next week. I have to prepare things carefully.” This time Isabella made sure her voice sounded normal. She certainly could not drag her loving Nonna on that emotional and exhausting trip. By next week, she hoped she would have gone to Sicily and returned.
“Now you need to calm down and relax,” Nonna suggested with a smile. “Maybe you should get distracted. Go out with the nice lawyer.”
“To be honest, I don’t feel like going out tonight.” She had to plan and pack for tomorrow.
“I have a pan of delicious lasagna with spinach and chicken parmesan. Why don’t you invite Jonathan for dinner? Its smell will go straight to his stomach. I won’t disturb you. I like to lie down and watch TV in my room.”
“Oh, Nonna, you’re so kind. I don’t mind having you sharing dinner with us.”
Her grandmother chuckled. “Another sweet lie. You’re becoming very good at hiding the truth. But I’d rather be in my bed and let you young people enjoy your evening.”
“Okay. It’s a great idea.” Forget the packing for the moment. Anyway, she was taking the minimum possible in her beach bag in order not to attract attention. “I’ll call him right way.” She punched his number and extended her invitation.
Chapter Eight
“Dinner at…your place? Hmm.” Jonathan evaluated the invitation and its implication. He wouldn’t mind a home-cooked dinner for a change, but he didn’t relish submitting to her grandmother’s examination for a couple of hours. “It’s very kind of you and your grandmother to invite me but—”
“My grandmother usually retires to her bedroom at seven p.m. to relax, watch TV, and call her friends. It was going to be just you and me for a dinner on the balcony, now that the rain has stopped. You sure you can’t make it?”
“Huh,
maybe I can come around seven-thirty.” For nothing in the world would he miss a romantic tête-à-tête in the privacy of Isabella’s balcony. “See you soon.”
Besides, Dante had updated him on their visit to the police station and detailed how he’d bailed the Sicilian aggressor out of jail. But Jonathan didn’t trust a guy who sold his loyalty to the higher bidder and he’d promised himself to keep a closer eye on Isabella and her grandmother. Learning the topography of their building and apartment would help in case of emergency.
At seven-thirty-five, he signed his name at the reception desk of the building and rode the elevator to her twenty-first floor, a bottle of wine clutched in his hand. The door of her apartment opened as soon as he stepped out of the elevator.
“I was waiting for you,” Isabella said with a welcome smile.
“You look lovely.” Her floor-length white linen dress and flat sandals gave her a demure appearance, yet her delicate flowery perfume intoxicated his senses more efficiently than a bottle of Tequila.
He handed her the wine and entered a spacious living room elegantly furnished with two white leather sofas, modern cocktail tables and antique chairs and lamps. “Thank you for having me.” The wall-to-wall glass door leading to the balcony attracted his attention. “What a fabulous view.”
“Thanks for the wine.” She set the bottle on the glass bar separating the dining area from the kitchen. “This side has a view of the ocean. You can have a quick look, we’ll be back later. Let’s go to the west side and watch the sunset while having dinner. Will you help me carry the food? It’s hot.”
“And smells delicious. I can’t wait to taste it.” He followed her to the kitchen and admired the maple cabinets and the midnight blue granite counters. A delicious aroma of garlic and spices spiraled around him and made his stomach rumble.