Page 35 of The Fall Affair

Anna folded her arms across her chest, perhaps only a few heartbeats away from grabbing that shoe, so I tore open the seal to the back of the envelope and slipped out the letter inside.

I had experience with pissing off Italian women, so to be safe, I scanned the page for a quick read before starting. Oh fuck. This wasn’t going to be good. I tossed around making up something different from what the letter actually said, but then I’d be pissing off a dead Italian woman, and I wasn’t sure which of the sisters could do me more damage. So I bit the bullet and began reading in Italian.

Anna,

If you’re reading this, I’m dead, which is the only way you’d get another word out of me after what you did. Congratulations for outliving me, just like you outlasted the three husbands you slept next to, two of them actually yours, along with your Thanksgiving invitation, and the shame of serving my lasagna recipe and calling it your own.

I’m leaving you nothing. Not a dollar. Not the pearls that have been in the family for two hundred years. Not even my unmatched Tupperware lids.

Rot in guilt. Or better yet, choke on your bad lasagna.

No love,

Sophia

P.S. You can no longer be buried with our family. I donated your plot to a hooker who died of syphilis. I figured at least she earned it, not stole her way through life, like you.

I wasn’t sure what the hell to do after that. Anna’s face was beet red, and it looked like she wanted to hold someone accountable for the letter. Since I was the only one around, I decided it was time to go. I set the letter down on the table and held up a hand in a wave.

“Ciao. Stammi bene.” Bye. Take care.

I made it as far as the door before she caught up to me. Anna had the letter in one hand and a lit Bic lighter in the other. She caught the bottom of the page, and the sheet went up in flames. I opened the door, and Anna tossed the paper on the front lawn before spitting at Allegra’s feet and marching back into her house.

Slam! The door flew closed.

Allegra’s face wrinkled. “What the hell?”

I put my arm around her shoulder and started her toward the scooter. “I’ll explain after we are out of shotgun range, yes?”

Chapter 11

Allegra

“HEY.” I SWIPED my cell phone to answer and put it on speaker. “Hang on one second. I’m getting something out of the oven.”

“Umm…I must’ve called the wrong number,” Cassie said. “The woman I’m trying to reach needs a recipe to boil water.”

I laughed. “You’re never going to believe me, but I’m actually taking a beautiful torta di ricotta e spinaci out of the oven. I made it from scratch.”

“You’re right, I don’t. So I’m switching over to FaceTime to see this shit. Hang on.” A few seconds later, my phone flashed with Cassie’s name. I answered wearing two red oven mitts.

“Oh my God. What are those things on your hands? Was there an accident of some sort?”

I chuckled and tilted the phone so my friend could see the pie I’d set on the counter. “Wiseass. Look at my torta di ricotta e spinaci.” I said the last part with my best Italian accent.

“You didn’t really make that, did you? It’s like a Mrs. Smith’s or one of those frozen kind you stick in the oven at Thanksgiving and pretend you made, right?”

I slipped off one oven mitt, then the other. “Nope. This is all my doing. It’s one of my nonna’s recipes.”

“Wow. Look at you.” She leaned closer to the camera. “Actually, look at you. You’re absolutely glowing, Allegra. You’re so tan, and your hair has that sexy wind-blown thing going on. And if I’m not mistaken, I don’t see any stress lines on your face or a rash on your chest.”

“I haven’t broken out with my bumps since I arrived. But I think the camera on my phone is being kind to my lines. The tan and the hair I owe to my new favorite mode of transportation—a Vespa.”

Cassie’s brows jumped. “You’re driving a motorcycle?”

“It’s a scooter, and it’s also bright purple. But yeah, I love it.”

“I’m not even sure I’ve ever seen you drive. Have I?”