Chapter Fifty-Two Nic
Chapter Fifty-Two
Nic
The text arrives from Martin bright and early Sunday morning. We’re still asleep, so I don’t see it until I wake up a little after nine.
When I read it, I bolt upright in the bed, taking the sheets with me. Harriet groans beside me.
“What is it?” she mumbles, still half asleep.
“It’s done.”
Her eyes open, and she grabs the phone from my hand. “Are you serious? Already?”
She reads Martin’s text out loud. “‘You’re not going to believe this, but late last night, Luke Dalio confessed to George’s murder. Sara’s off the hook. You didn’t hear this from me, but barring anything unforeseen, she should be out by the end of the day.’”
“She’s getting out,” Harriet says.
I nod, afraid to speak because of the lump in my throat.
We did it. We actually did it.
My phone rings. The screen reads Mom.
“Nico,” Mom cries when I answer. “Sara’s getting out!
” She sniffles, her voice breaking as she continues.
“I can’t believe it. Barry told me that the awful man who killed Barbara confessed last night.
She’s free. My baby is free! Things are finally turning around for us, Nico.
Everyone who canceled jobs will come crawling back, and I can tell them vaffanculo! ”
Vaffanculo essentially means fuck off in Italian. Literally, it translates to go do it in the ass.
“Mom! Please don’t do that.”
Mom lets out a loud laugh. “You really think I would do that, Nico? I would not! I will happily accept all our clients back. I’m not that stubborn, although I know you think I am.
I know you think you need to protect me.
I still can’t believe you and your father kept the fact that you were in the hospital from me. That better never happen again.”
Shit. “How did you find out about that?”
“Martin told me.”
That rat bastard. I make a mental note to tear him a new one the next time I see him.
“He shouldn’t have done that, Mom.”
She scoffs. “He absolutely should have. It made me think about things. The way you put your life on hold for me all those years ago. You think I don’t know that you started the catering business with me because you were worried about us?
You’re a good son. And now it’s time we repay the favor.
I’m going to find a new manager. You’re fired. ”
“What?”
Firing is what happens to Sara. Not to me.
“Well,” she says, backpedaling, “only if you want to be. You can keep working as long as you like, but I wanted you to know the option is there. You don’t have to feel stuck here anymore.
Of course, we might need extra hands sometimes.
And you’ll need to train the new person.
And your sister can be unpredictable, so—”
It goes on like this for at least two more minutes, but by the time we’re saying our goodbyes, it’s clear that my mom is serious about letting me go if that’s what I want.
It’s terrifying, but I feel free for the first time in years.
Harriet puts her arms around me. “Are you okay?”
I reach up and wipe my cheeks. “I’m so much better than okay. I adore you, Harriet Baker.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Shit.
There’s a beat of silence, during which I die about a thousand deaths, but then she says, “I adore you too,” and the world rights itself again.