Francesca #2
I hesitated, touched by the gesture but also finding it unnecessary. But I lived for my father’s approval—as much as I told myself I didn’t need it. Then I lowered myself into the chair as Elio helped me sit. He sat in the chair Thomas had just vacated.
One of the staff walked over, uncorked a new bottle of wine, and poured it for me.
Then the bread was served down the table with olive oil made on our very property, and the conversation rose a decibel because the men were excited to get some food into their stomachs.
Music played over the speaker system as the merriment continued.
I spotted Alfonso at the other table, drinking a glass of wine, when I’d just brought him back from the brink of death two days ago. “He really shouldn’t be drinking while he’s on those painkillers.”
My father followed my line of sight before he took a puff from his cigar. “He’ll be fine.”
“But his liver won’t be.”
“I’m sure you could fix that too.”
“Not unless I give him my own liver.” I looked at him as he held the cigar between his fingertips. “And what did I say about the smoking? We agreed to one cigar per day.”
“This is my one.”
My eyebrows lifted.
A slow smirk moved across his lips, and then he put out the cigar. “You win, Frankie.”
“She always wins,” Leo said before he took a drink of his wine.
“She keeps us alive, so she can get her way.” My father relaxed in the chair once more then sipped his wine.
The staff started to serve dinner, fresh fish from the market sauteed with spices and herbs and plenty of lemon, along with pasta in a rich tomato sauce prepared with pancetta. My father was served first as the head of the family, like always.
Leo eyed the food when it was placed in front of our father. “Cristo, that smells good.”
Elio must have been having a conversation with my father before I walked over, because what he said next didn’t sound introductory. “I can have him come by tomorrow.”
My father dropped the linen into his lap before he grabbed his fork and sliced into the tender pieces of fish. “Alfonso and Mattia aren’t dead. We don’t need another guy.”
“But they’re pretty much dead because they’re useless,” Elio said. “For the next four to six weeks.” He glanced at me. “Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m a nurse,” I reminded him.
“Same thing around here,” Elio said as he shifted his eyes back to my father.
“I don’t see eye to eye with Cosa Nostra,” my father said.
“Neither does he—so it’s a perfect fit.”
“Really?” My father tore off a piece of bread. “Because he sounds like a traitor and a rat.”
“Cosa Nostra let him live, so that must not be the case.”
My father stared at Elio as he chewed, thinking over what he said. “What’s your fascination with him?”
“I hear he’s good.”
“At?” my father asked.
“Everything. My sources tell me he was going to take over Cosa Nostra upon Don Russo’s death.”
“Nephew? Son?”
“No relation.”
The staff brought the rest of the plates down the table, starting with my brother and me and then serving everyone else.
Other helpers brought food to the other table, trying to get dinner to the men as quickly as possible before it turned cold.
The kitchen cleanup was going to be a bitch when this was over.
“I don’t know what their beef is, but if it’s genuine, we could have a serious player on our team,” Elio said. “It wouldn’t hurt just to meet with him.”
“Or he’s a Trojan horse and we’ve forgotten the lessons that history has taught us,” my father said as he spun his fork in his pasta then took a bite.
“Or we’re getting a premium product for a fraction of the price,” Elio countered.
“Taking advantage of an argument that doesn’t concern us.
Seeing an opportunity and exploiting it.
I think we have more to lose by not meeting with him than meeting him.
There have been a lot of shake-ups and economic downturns. ”
My father set down his fork and stared at Elio.
I pretended not to be in the middle of them and focused on my dinner, trying to be invisible. I wished I’d just taken Thomas’s spot, so my father and Elio could continue this conversation with me on the outskirts.
Then my father shifted his gaze to Leo. “What are your thoughts?”
“If it’s a plan by Cosa Nostra, they already know where we are and what we do. Having him here wouldn’t increase our exposure.” Leo sliced into his fish and placed the lemon-soaked meat in his mouth. “If they wanted to hit us, I don’t think this is how they would do it.”
My father turned to look at me. “Frankie?”
I stopped eating to look at him, my eyebrows raised. “I’m not qualified to have an opinion about this.”
“Yes, you are,” he said firmly. “You’re smart—and you’re a Mancini.”
I turned back to my food, taking a moment to think it over.
“Customs is getting harder to manipulate. This is the second time someone’s tried to rob us this month.
Some of our customers are being threatened to switch distributors.
It seems like everything is going to shit, piece by piece.
Having some new blood with priceless intel would be beneficial, assuming his intentions are genuine and not nefarious. ”
My father’s eyes lingered on mine for a long time as his thoughts ran in the background of his mind. Then his eyes flicked back to Elio. “I’ll meet him tomorrow.”
Elio nodded in agreement. “I think that’s—”
“Let’s speak no more of this.” My father suddenly rose from his chair and grabbed his wineglass.
Everyone immediately went silent, all turning to look at him when he commanded the patio just by standing up.
He raised his glass. “To Alfonso and Mattia—we’re glad you’re still here.”
Everyone else raised their glass and took a drink, and then applause and cheers erupted.