Chapter 6 - What My Mother Kept
Luca offered to send security.
I told him my mother would call the police if strange men showed up outside her house.
“Then we ask her first,” Emily said.
It was such a simple answer that both of us went quiet.
My mother agreed to an officer checking the street. She refused to leave until I came myself.
“I’m not running from a phone call,” she told me.
“You can be stubborn tomorrow.”
“I can do both.”
Michael stayed with Emily while Luca drove me across town with Rocco.
I sat behind Luca and stared at the back of his head.
For eleven months, I had polished the desk of the man who helped destroy my father’s reputation.
He hadn’t known who I was.
That almost made it worse.
My mother opened the door before we knocked.
Then she saw Luca.
Her hand tightened on the frame.
“You.”
He stopped on the porch.
“Mrs. Dawson.”
“Daniel asked to see you.”
“I know that now.”
“No. You knew it then. Your office told him you were unavailable.”
Luca said nothing.
She looked at me.
“You work for him?”
I nodded.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Not anger.
Pity.
I hated it.
Inside, she pulled a plastic storage bin from the coat closet.
“Your father wanted to burn these. I told him he’d regret it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were in college. He wanted you worrying about exams.”
The bin held pay stubs, letters, and a cheap spiral notebook.
On the first page, Dad had written dates beside company names.
The same vendor appeared four times.
BELLINI PROPERTY SERVICES.
Luca sat down.
“Vanessa’s family company,” he said.
My mother looked at him.
“Then you finally found the right thief.”
Between two notebook pages was a folded letter from Anna Moretti.
Daniel,
I checked the Maple disbursements against your copies. You were right about the duplicate invoices. Paul’s explanation does not match the bank records.
Keep your originals.
I will speak to Luca when he comes home.
My mother lowered herself into a chair.
“Anna died before she could.”
Luca stared at the letter.
His wife had died after a long illness. There was no mystery about that.
Only the awful ordinary truth that sick people could run out of time before finishing what mattered.
“She tried to tell me something,” he said.
His voice had changed.
“At the hospital. I told her business could wait.”
Nobody comforted him.
My mother opened a smaller envelope.
Inside was a check made out to my father.
It had never been cashed.
Across the accompanying note, someone had typed:
Acceptance constitutes full settlement and confidentiality.
At the bottom was Paul Mercer’s signature.
My mother slid it toward Luca.
“Daniel said if he took it, you’d call it proof.”
Luca looked at the amount.
May you like
Then he looked at the date.
It had been issued three days before Anna died.
