Chapter 11 #2
There’s a pause, and he clears his throat, as if trying to find just the right words.
“Yes, ma’am, you do. Let’s see…it appears that Mr. Bellanti arranged a credit line of…
$100,000, which means that your available balance remaining is…
$223.39,” he says, respectfully if somewhat nervously.
“We can increase your credit line, of course, but we’ll need the primary account holder to call us in order to get that approved. ”
“Perfect. I’ll take it up with my husband,” I say breezily.
Dang, I’m good. I thank the man for his time and hang up. I can’t wait to give my sisters their necklaces, and show off my car. I keep the top down, letting the wind whip my hair as I drive to Charlie’s house in Nob Hill. I park, let myself in, and find Livvie in Charlie’s studio.
Both of my sisters sit near the windows, easels in front of them, their backs to the door as they work in the natural light.
Charlie’s painting a portrait of Livvie that already seems to capture her inner glow.
Livvie is sketching one of her horses, per usual, and I can see a few reference photos clipped to the top of her easel.
I stride into the room with the turquoise Tiffany & Co.
bags in my hand, and they gasp to see me so unexpectedly.
“I come bearing gifts,” I sing out.
“From Tiffany?” Livvie squeals. “Oh my God, and is that a new suit? It’s gorgeous!”
“It is. Now, I have one for you, and one for you, and one for me. I feel like Oprah!” I pass out the bags. Livvie dives into hers immediately, and the second she gets her box open she starts cooing at the sparkling diamond necklace.
Charlie’s jaw drops when she sees it. “Are you kidding? Five thousand dollars?”
I peer into Livvie’s box with a frown. “Forty-nine-hundred, technically. But that wasn’t supposed to be in there.” I snatch the little tag out.
Charlie raises a brow. Her box is still in her hand. “What’s this all about?”
I shrug. “Dante insulted my wardrobe, so I did a little shopping. At his expense.”
My sister’s expression immediately turns to one of approval. “Good girl!”
She does a little dance as she unboxes her necklace and immediately puts it on. Soon, all three of us are wearing our matching necklaces and feeling fabulous.
My cell rings just as we’re about to take a selfie. It’s Dante.
I smirk, hit ignore, and go back to the photo session. He’s probably calling about the credit card. Perhaps he’s regretting his instructions to me this morning. Live and learn, sucka.
Determined not to let him interrupt my afternoon with my sisters, I order us Thai delivery for lunch and we sit in the sunroom to eat. It’s a delight. Not how I was expecting to spend my day, considering I’d gotten up with the intention of going to work. But this is so much better.
Before I realize it, the afternoon is gone and Livvie is ready to go home.
She’d spent the night with Charlie to avoid being alone in the house with our drunk, belligerent father.
Smart decision. I wish I could bring her home with me and have her stay forever.
It doesn’t sit right with either me or Charlie that Livvie is alone with our dad’s unpredictable mean streak, but her horses are there and she’s adamant that she be there to feed and care for them.
“I’ll drive you back,” I offer.
She claps her hands. “Only if we go the long way so I can get a decent ride in the Jag!”
“Deal. And I know it needs work, but since I have a new car, the Golf is yours, Livvie.”
The room goes silent. Glancing at Charlie first, Livvie gives me an apologetic half-smile.
“What?” I ask.
“The VW’s…gone,” Livvie says gently. “Dad junked it a few years ago—I think he got a few hundred dollars for it.”
Charlie adds, “I’m so sorry. I know it was your baby.”
I feel a sting, the unexpected loss of something I was once so attached to and so proud of.
I bought that car with my own money, taught myself to drive on that stick shift.
And now it’s just…gone. Because of our father.
“Well,” I say, forcing myself to sound cheery.
“I guess the Jag is a pretty good consolation prize, right?”
“Definitely,” Livvie agrees. “Let’s go!”
We take the scenic route through Marin County, soaking up winding roads lined with leafy old trees, and carefully manicured neighborhoods, and finally, the Golden Gate Bridge.
The fading sun looks magical in the shimmer of the water, and traffic is light so I can zip along while Livvie waves her arms above her head, her hair flying around in the wind.
We both laugh and whoop as we clear the bridge.
This is a beautiful memory I’ll hold on to for the rest of my life.
We’re cruising down the narrow highway toward Napa when my phone rings. Dante, again. I hit ignore, again. Livvie looks at me in shock, her eyes widening.
“Shouldn’t you—?”
“So,” I say in my best big sister sing-song voice. “Tell me about your latest crush.”
Her forehead scrunches. “Boys? I don’t have time for boys. You know that.”
“Of course you do. Look at you. I bet they’re lined up on their knees begging and pleading for just one date.”
“You’re so right,” she teases. “My new crush is Marco Bellanti. He did ask me to dance at the wedding, you know. He was completely smitten after I stepped on his fancy shoes.”
We laugh, both of us well aware that Livvie—for all her youth and passion—is way too smart to get caught up with a player like Marco.
But my good humor is tainted by the sobering knowledge that if I hadn’t left Italy, my baby sister would be the one with Dante’s credit card.
The one dealing with a hellish homelife, and a husband who didn’t care about her.
As we cross into Napa Valley, the temperature rises slightly, the air humid with a familiar weight and a mineral scent.
I look in my rearview mirror and see storm clouds gathering in the distance.
I should probably pull over and put the top up just to be safe, so we don’t get rained on, but nah.
I’ll risk it. We’re almost home and the clouds still look pretty far off.
Just then, my phone rings. Probably Dante again. I ignore it, but Livvie grabs it from the center console and answers, pulling away when I reach for it.
“No, this is her sister,” she says. “Who’s calling, please?”
She makes eyes at me again and covers the phone speaker with her hand. “Who’s Rico?”
I swerve a little, catch myself, and settle back into my lane. Snatching the phone from my sister, I give it a nonchalant toss over the side of my door, letting it clatter onto the highway.
“Oops, dropped the call.”
Livvie is aghast. “Frankie! That’s your phone!”
“Hey, no talking to boys. Only about them.”
“I can’t believe you just did that!”
I can’t believe I did that. Gripping the wheel, I will my racing heart to slow down and hope like hell nothing shows on my face.
“You are a total badass!” Livvie says, and I can’t help but laugh along with her.
Until the shrill whoop of a siren cuts our laughter short.
Red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror. There’s a police car behind us.
Shit.