Aidan raises one eyebrow. “How very generous of you to allow a priest to pray in his own church.”
“Not a priest,” I tell him with a grin.
It’s been a long time since I lit a candle in a Catholic church, but it comes back pretty fast. I stuff a hundred dollar bill in the donations box, daring Aidan to say something about it, but he just smiles. Then I light the candles and try to think good thoughts about my three dead family members. It’s not easy.
But I try.
* * *
When I get home,the mail has come, and one of our usual house guards has left a wrapped book for me in the entryway. It’s addressed to Howie D’Amato, which narrows down the shippers pretty significantly, and when I flip it over, I’m not surprised to see Tara’s name listed as the sender.
I take it through to the kitchen with me after saying goodbye to Teo. “I’m in for the night,” I tell him, and then I smile. “Luca will be home, soon. It’s Date Night.”
In the kitchen, I tear open the wrapping paper and look at the book inside. It’s a dog-eared notebook, filled with my mother's neat cursive. I haven’t seen her handwriting for years, and it feels like a bucket of cold water going over me. Sofamiliar. And the book itself—it’s—
It’s Mom's diary.
I have to put it down for a second and justbreathe. Then I see an envelope tucked inside the cover with my name on it. This handwriting I know as well, although again it’s been years since I’ve seen it. The letter is from Tara.
Dear Howie,
You said you wanted it, so here’s Mom’s diary. There are whole years where she didn’t write, but I hope it still brings you comfort.
I don’t want to read more. What if this is Tara’s parting gesture? What if this is her goodbye? I take a deep breath and keep reading.
I don’t want the past to come between us. We’re family. So next time I’m in New York, let’s talk some more. Maybe we can share memories that will comfort us both, and make some new, happy memories, too.
Your sister forever,
Tara.
It’s a simple note. Very Tara. Heartfelt, kind of cheesy, but written with absolute emotional truth. My eyes blur with tears. Tara was close by when Maggie died, close enough to have heard Maggie’s last little bit of poison dripped into my ear.
In the distance, the front door opens and Luca’s voice carries through: “Baby bird?”
“In here,” I manage to call, and moments later his arms are around me, his lips on the back of my neck.
“I missed you,” he says, turning me around. “Hey, are you okay?”
I give a watery smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” I hold up Tara’s letter. “I heard from Tara. She wants to catch up next time she’s in town.”
His hands cup my face and he brushes his thumbs over my cheekbones, smiling down at me. “That’s great news, angel.”
Epilogue
Finch
Kismet is the coolest club in New York city. And I say that without an ounce of subjectivity—just Google “best clubs in New York.” Kismet is the new place to be. Eddie Garcia is very good at his job, and I am even better. It's Friday night and still early, but the line to get in stretches right around the block.
From the office, I can see the people waiting on the high-tech security cameras we've had installed. I told Luca I was going to keep this place clean, and that's exactly what I'll do. Any hint of dealing, and all I have to do is tell our wonderful bouncer to kick a guy out of line. And if there's anyone who knows what a hint of dealing looks like, it's yours truly.
The club is going gangbusters, but there's only one problem tonight—it's Date Night. Luca was supposed to pick me up half an hour ago, and he's late. Lucky for him he's on his way here now, which I can see from the wedding ring tracker app.
Soon enough I hear footsteps coming up the stairs outside the office. There's a brief knock, but he doesn't wait for my call to enter. He just pushes in, two bodyguards behind him, who nod at mine. Lately I've been requesting Teo Vitali more and more. Luca told me he was smarter than the average bear, and I like to know I can match wits with someone. He's also only a year or two older than me, which means he's not as boring as some of the guards.
I think Marco would approve of him, too.
I stand up behind my desk.
