CHAPTER 36
"That morning I played the piano for a man entering my house for the last time. I didn't know it. But the nonna knew."
Valentina MORETTI
The nonna had coffee with me on the lemon-tree terrace.
Almost not a word for fifteen minutes. I'd already learned from her that silence was a way of talking too.
"Signora."
"Sì, nonna."
"My grandson is receiving Carlo at eleven."
Carlo Acquaviva. I hadn't spoken to him since before the honeymoon.
"Va bene."
"I'm not coming down."
I looked at her.
"You're not?"
"No."
"Nonna…"
"I don't want to see that man, signora."
She said it quietly, but the sentence went into me like a stone.
That man. Not Carlo. Not the consigliere. That man.
"Why?"
"You don't ask everything, signora. Today, you don't ask." She drank the last sip of her coffee. "You play piano. When Luca tells you to play, you play, until he asks you to stop."
I felt a chill in my stomach.
"Va bene, nonna."
She braced the cane, stood, and kissed the top of my head.
"Brava, signora Moretti."
Acquaviva arrived at eleven on the dot.
I was in the hall when he came in. Light gray suit, round glasses, brown leather briefcase under his arm.
He saw me and gave the minimal nod of his head.
"Signora Moretti."
"Signor Acquaviva."
"Auguri tardivi."
"Grazie."
His voice was the same, his step was the same. But I, with the nonna's words in my head—that man—looked at him differently. And it was as if the whole house had changed color for a second.
He went up the stairs, and Donna Beatrice took him to the study.
I went to the music room.
I sat down on the piano bench, lifted the lid, and rested my fingers. C. Then D. Then I dove into my mother's Chopin.
I played further than the first time with the nonna. I got close to the end.
I didn't finish—I never finished, but I got close.
Luca appeared in the doorway halfway through the second repeat.
He leaned against the frame but didn't come in. When I stopped, he came in and over to the piano and kissed the top of my head.
"Play, bella mia."
"Why?"
"Play until he leaves the house."
"Luca…"
"I'll tell you later."
I felt my heart start to race, but I'd already said va bene to the nonna half an hour before.
I went back to the keys and started the Chopin again.
Somewhere in the second repeat, I saw the nonna standing in the doorway of the room. Later still, Donna Beatrice came down the hall, stopped a second in the doorway too, and went on.
At eleven forty, Acquaviva passed by the door of the room. Luca appeared thirty seconds later.
He took my right hand, the one with Marta's ring, and kissed it. Then he kissed my mouth, long, over the white keys.
"Brava," he murmured against my mouth.
"Luca."
"Tonight."
"Va bene."
In the afternoon I went down to the south cellar with the nonna. Matteo stood up when he saw us.
"Nonna."
"Matteo Rossi."
He lowered his head.
The nonna sat down in the chair Acquaviva always set near the door.
"You gave yourself up for your mother in August of 2015," she said.
Matteo lifted his eyes.
"Sì, nonna."
It was the first time in seven years he'd called anyone nonna. I saw his hands tremble at his sides.
"Lucia told me in October of that year." The nonna was in no hurry. "It was the last time I spoke with her."
"I know, nonna."
The nonna rested both hands on the head of the cane.
"You'll be getting out of here soon, Matteo Rossi. I'm going to ask for it."
I felt a knot in my throat, and my brother closed his eyes.
"Sì, nonna."
"Brava to Valentina, bravo to my grandson, bravo to you. In that order."