"CALM?!" Someone shouted. "There's a gun!"
"He's ninety-one!" Someone else yelled. "How did he get a gun?!"
"I've had this gun since 1952!" Nonno announced proudly, waving it with terrifying unpredictability. "And I'm going to use it to get justice for my boy!"
"Nonno, put the gun down!" I said, stepping beside Stone and keeping Quentin behind me.
"Julia, move," Quentin hissed.
"He's not going to shoot me."
"He might shoot through you!"
Valid point.
Carlo reached Nonno, hands up in a calming gesture. "Nonno. Listen to me. Put the gun down."
"Not until that rat bastard pays for what he did!"
"He didn't do it!" Carlo said firmly. "Nonno, we found out last night. Someone else killed Papa. Quentin's innocent."
Nonno's hand wavered. "What?"
"The Vanetti boy did not kill Sal." Vinny spoke slowly, moving to Carlo's other side. "We caught the real killer last night."
"You did?" Nonno looked confused, the gun lowering slightly. "Why didn’t you tell me! Did you kill them? Who was it?"
Awkward silence.
"It doesn't matter," Carlo said quickly. "What matters is that Quentin didn't do it. He's family now. He married Jules."
"He... married?" Nonno squinted at me in my wedding dress, like he noticed it for the first time. "What is this? A wedding?"
"Yes, Nonno," I said gently. "My wedding. To Quentin. Remember? You were at the ceremony."
"I was?" He looked around, bewildered. "Why didn't anyone tell me there was a wedding?"
"We did tell you.” The nurse said. "Multiple times. You got dressed up special."
Nonno looked down at his suit. "I do look very handsome."
"You do," I agreed. "Very handsome. Now can you please give Vinny the gun?"
"The gun?" He looked at it like he'd forgotten he was holding it. "Oh. Yes. This old thing." He held it out to Vinny, who took it carefully. "I brought it to shoot someone. Are you sure I don’t need to do that?"
"No, Nonno,” Carlo said. “You don’t need to shoot anyone. It’s been taken care of."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I’m positive.” Carlo patted his arm. “Believe me. I’m the don now. Remember? What I say goes. No shooting necessary. Now let’s enjoy the cake.”
"If you say so." Nonno squinted at Quentin. "Sorry. Nothing personal."
"Perfectly understandable," Quentin said, still standing behind me.
"You can come out now," I told him. "The gun's secured."
"I'm comfortable here, thanks."
