“You mind your metaphors,” she says, dry. “You sound like your grandfather when you talk as if the Bible is yours to quote. Do the work. Quiet. Final. Don’t give them a story to tell.”
“I know how,” I say.
“I know you do.” Because she made sure I knew exactly how to do it. In a world where my father and uncle wanted me harder, Nan wanted me smarter.
She stands. I stand. She kisses my cheek, me bending to her like a too-tall boy. She smells like tea and wool and something that used to be perfume and now is just Nan.
“Tell the girl my door is open,” she says. “Tell her my phone is on and I keep cash in the house because I don’t trust banks. If she wants to run, she can run with me. I’ll get her to a place you won’t find her long enough to change your mind and come correct what you ruin.”
“I don’t change my mind.”
“Then come correct from the start,” she says, not unkind.
She walks me out to the front door of her estate, and stepping back into the November air brings me back to the massive list of things I need to handle.
In the back of the car, I take out my phone and see a slew of texts from my siblings.
Tiernan: The Blackvine boys put a watcher in the North End last night. We moved him. No blowback. Yet.
Good. Let them hang themselves.
Roisín: Maeve will be ready at three. Tell the girl to moisturize.
Noted.
Unknown:We hear you’re marrying into old money that used to be friendly with Blackvine. Congratulations.
The kind of thing a coward sends when he wants to taste your name without opening his mouth. I star it and forward to Rafferty and Tiernan. The two of them will know exactly what I want them to do
Once I’ve handled that, I rest my head back for a second.
The bands sit inside my jacket, a comforting weight.
I picture how they’ll look on Caterina’s hand paired with the dark silver and the diamond. I picture her thumb finding the Ogham—safe—and making of the word what she needs that day. She’ll decide its meaning. I’ll enforce it.
I open the text chain with Aoife
Me:Have the bands. Keep her day tight.
Aoife: Always
The driver takes the slow road along the water back toward the city. I don’t tell him to hurry. I look at the flat gray surface and the thin sun and think through the list I’ve kept since the night I escaped the Colorado. Names. Warehouses. Lawyers who think contracts make them safe. Men who said my father’s name and then said mine and thought that put them above ground when it was time to count.
My plan was simple. One by one, over the course of a year. Make it look like misfortune. Make it quiet. Marrying her shortens my calendar. It doesn’t cancel it.
Rafferty texts, drawing my attention away from my thoughts
Rafferty:Providence number belongs to Carrick’s boy. He’s trying to create a name for himself in the ranks. You want him pinched or courted?
Carrick is one of my cousins, although almost everyone is a cousin of some sort. But Carrick’s father was my father’s cousin, and he’s always been good to my family. Loyal. So if his son is causing a few issues, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it’s about money and not disloyalty.
Me:Neither. Ignored. Let him sweat. Move his girlfriend’s job to a new shift so he thinks he has a leak and fires the wrong man.
Rafferty: Done. You’re due at St. Brigid’s at five.
Me: I’m bringing the bands.
At a red light, I catch my reflection in the window. I look like a man who already knows the end of this. Good. The city moves around us with that sharp New England competence it uses when it wants to pretend the sea doesn’t get a vote.
