That almost pleases me as much as the knowledge that we might succeed in saving his life.
The mahogany doors at the estate’s grand entrance—complete with patina caming and shipped in from Tuscany by my grandfather—have never seen so much use. I considered having them swapped for some revolving doors.
After four days of tireless effort, my father received his first dose of antitoxin.
Despite Connor’s involvement, even Nino’s on board. I can sense that he’s attempting to come to grips with the word “compromise.” He doesn’t want to see Father die this kind of death any more than I do, and to that end, he’s willing to accept Connor’s presence.
He’s also ecstatic that Domenico Verone is dead. They know I killed him. Following my instructions, Danny’s keeping his lips sealed, but I didn’t want to lie to the two most important men in my life any more than necessary, so I gave them the CliffsNotes version of what happened at the warehouse.
Connor grabbed Verone, interrogated him, then brought me there to kill him.
Thanks to Danny’s confirmation, my family accepted that explanation.
It’s Thursday now, and I’m whistling as I bring my dad his dinner. I haven’t been this light in months. Maybe years.
Sundown is often the hardest part of the day for my dad, but tonight, optimism bleeds through the usual despair.
“Hi, Father. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Caterina, aren’t you pretty this evening.” For the first time since autumn, his smile reaches his eyes.
“Am I? Well, thank you so much.” I’m in a forest green tracksuit and very little makeup. I highly doubt I’m glowing. “I’d ask if you’re drunk, but I know better.”
He laughs a little louder than usual. “Not drunk, my dear. Just hopeful, maybe even a little energetic.”
I set the tray down and kiss him on the cheek. “Energetic looks good on you.”
“Is it crazy to say I think I feel better already?” He grabs one of my hands and clings with more strength than he should have. “The placebo effect, possibly.”
“I don’t know about that.” I sit down on the edge of the bed and offer him a smile. “Doctor Singh said you could start noticing the effects in as little as twenty-four hours. It’s been about eighteen. Not to mention you’re an overachiever. I’m surprised I didn’t walk in with dinner to see you doing jumping jacks.”
My father laughs again, then coughs a little. He’s probably not ready for calisthenics or more of my silly jokes quite yet.
I’m just happy to see some color back in his olive cheeks. These last couple of months, his skin tone took on a sallow cast.
As he eats the creamy mushroom and pea risotto that Cook prepared just for him, I note the return of his appetite. Not one-hundred-percent, but he even grasps his fork with more gusto. I wish we could’ve served this with his favorite red blend. As a man of tradition, red wine with dinner was standard until he got sick.
Maybe next week he’ll be well enough for a glass of his treasured Chianti.
I fix the tea with cream and sugar to provide the post-dinner sweet treat he enjoys. I even make one for myself, though I rarely indulge in dessert tea anymore.
It’s just that kind of night.
After the drinks steep and I add the goodies, I sit in the recliner beside him and blow on my beverage.
My father sets down his fork with a sigh. “I’m concerned about the future of this family, Caterina.”
I glance behind me, expecting Nino to sail through the door as if his boots are on fire. My father opened the floor for business, so I’m shocked by my brother’s absence.
“More specifically, I’m worried about the direction your brother’s steering the family.”
Is he finally admitting that he’s not thrilled about the Roguilin-Ricci alliance? Oh, how I pray that this turn of events—and Connor saving his life—will finally clear my father’s head.
I cross my legs, drinking my tea to give him a chance to form the right words. “We both love you so much, and we believe you’re on the mend. And just as we both want what’s best for you, Father, we also want what’s best for the family. Nino’s smart, and he’s a hard worker.” In his weakened state, I hope he can’t sniff out the lies. “He’s doing what he thinks is best.”
I can’t just go against Nino right away. Do I want my father to sympathize with my perspective, which just so happens to be Connor’s too? Yes, but I won’t undermine my brother for that purpose.
I know Nino’s hurting and losing his way. Maybe with Father healing, he will too. I need to believe that together, we can fix this family and improve the organization. I imagine watching our dad fade away and jumping into the leadership role came with a fair amount of stress. Nino took on the top position while simultaneously stifling the emotions stirred up by Father’s physical decline.
