Ignoring me, Dante headed inside, grinning when Ma and Antonia jumped from their seats to hug him, followed by several of the cousins and aunts.
Dario seemed to take everything in, watching all the affection Dante got—not nearly as warm a reception as he’d gotten when he’d returned from prison.
“Dario isn’t going to let this shit go easy,” I told my father.
“It’s Christmas, son. Your brothers won’t disappoint their mama on Christmas.”
“Dario hasn’t had a Christmas on the outside in five years, Pop. Whose fault is that?”
My father stared at me, his eyebrows shooting up. “His.”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but his shaking head stopped me.
“No one asked him to take the blame, not even Dante. In fact, if I remember right, Dante wanted to go to the DA and make a confession, but Dario wouldn’t have it.”
“Still…”
“We all make choices, and we all have to deal with them.” Pop turned, glancing at Dino when another of my men approached to speak to him. My father ignored them, shrugging off my business and employees as he headed for the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to see my wife and go inside to eat. It’s fucking cold out here, and it’s Christmas.”
Pop disappeared inside, tearing off his coat as Mama approached, her face wide with a smile.
“What’s the problem?” I said, frowning as another of my guys joined Dino and the other man who I now saw was Mike. Nodding to both, I slipped my hands into my pockets, frowning at the looks on their faces. “Speak.”
“Mr. Carelli,” Dino started, “Mike and Rickey say there’s a problem with one of the business owners.”
“Oh?” I walked forward, forgetting about the cold that had settled into my bones, my curiosity piqued. “Who is it?”
Mike motioned toward the edge of the patio. “The bakery across the street.” He directed me across the patio and down some small steps until we could see a large van and a building lit up just across the way from my parents’ restaurant.
Then in the distance, I could clearly make out a woman in a thick coat, her long red hair in a braid down the center of her back.
“So, what’s the problem?” I asked, angling my head to get a better look at her.
She came into the light, holding a large box in her arms with a bag hanging from her elbow.
“She refuses to pay the protection fee.”
The words hung in the air like the hot breath coming from my mouth. The Realtors jazzed it up as a community fee. Sometimes they said it was a town expenditure tax or a preservation fee, but it was always mandatory and stipulated in every mortgage agreement new tenants sign.
“Did I hear you right?” I said, turning to stare at my men.
That fee wasn’t for me. It was for the town. It kept the dockworkers from losing our cargo and inspectors happy enough that our deliveries didn’t get shipped to larger townships or bigger cities. It kept the town from being harassed by other families wanting to take over all those gray businesses I tried hard to keep out of our community.
So why the hell wouldn’t she pay it?
“Yes, sir. Turns out she’s got some fancy lawyer who argued the fees weren’t legal because the taxes aren’t part of the town charter and were never voted on.”
“No shit, they weren’t voted on…”
“Mr. Carelli,” Dino said, stepping between Mike, Rickey, and me as I watched the woman come back to the van empty-handed. “I can go talk to her. Maybe make her understand how things are here. What we offer as far as our protection goes…”
She stopped near the back of the van, head turning like she knew we were watching her. My men looked away, worried, I guess, of getting caught. The redhead lifted her head, one hand on her hip, like she was waiting for me to move or comment or do any damn thing but watch her.
“No,” I finally told Dino, unable to keep the grin off my face. “It’s Christmas. We’ve got time.”
“Dimitri,” I heard, turning to see my father waving me inside.
I nodded to him, tapping Dino once on the chest before I left my men. “You take care of that thing for the girl I asked you about earlier?” I asked Dino.
