Chapter 23
Two weeks later, Catherine returned to New York City as a guest of the Fellini family. Scarlet came with her, armed with baked goods and little gifts for Ivy, with whom she planned to stay that night and maybe the one after that, depending on how the trip went. It was September, unseasonably chilly, and they bundled up in sweaters and drove south to that miraculous city. A city that had given them so much. A city that wasn’t quite done with them yet, despite their departure.
Ivy met them on the street. She wore a vintage leather jacket and shiny lipgloss and had gained maybe a pound or two since the Nantucket incident—healthy weight that made her smile brighter and her eyes lighter. Catherine’s eyes filled as her daughters embraced. Sometimes it was difficult for Catherine to face the facts of the recent past. But, she reckoned, if she was really a journalist, she had to find ways to carry all kinds of truths. Even modern ones about her family.
Catherine bought the girls lunch and fell into easy, sweet gossip about Ivy’s classes, her friends, and a boy who’d recently flirted with her in a linguistics class. It thrilled Catherine to hear she was doing so well. But she’d also promised to stay extra vigilant—to call her daughter frequently and ask if the pressure on her shoulders was too great.
There’s no race in the finish line of life, she’d told Ivy before she’d gone back to school. Take a breather if you need to. Listen to your body.
Ivy had promised she would.
Ivy took a french fry and waved it over the table at the lunch spot they’d once frequented when the girls were small. Catherine assumed neither of them remembered that. She decided to keep the fact to herself.
“But tell me about Nathan,” Ivy instructed Scarlet now.
Scarlet’s cheeks went red. She stared into the basket of french fries as though they might give her an answer.
“You don’t have to,” Catherine said quietly. “I know it’s still new.”
Scarlet waved her hand. “I want to be open about it. I do.” She shot Ivy a look, adding, “No more secrets between us.”
Ivy gave a firm nod.
“When I first saw Nathan a few weeks ago, I knew something was about to happen,” Scarlet admitted. “It felt like we were building a story together. At first, I thought maybe that story was just the documentary. But now, I don’t know.”
“Is he still staying with you?” Ivy asked.
Scarlet shook her head. “He returned to the city for a while to be with his family. But we’re still working together and sharing footage. Talking about where to take the documentary. His sister and his parents have agreed to give an interview.” Scarlet dotted her lips with a napkin. “But we have future ideas, too. Other documentaries. Other fiction films. Now that he doesn’t work three jobs to make rent, it’s like his creative mind is alive again. And we’re applying for grants and things like that so money won’t be an issue.”
Scarlet smiled at Catherine. Catherine had already translated just how proud of Scarlet she was for refusing her family’s money. She wanted to do it all on her own.
My children are my true legacy, Catherine thought.
After lunch, Catherine, Ivy, and Scarlet went for a long walk through Central Park, then returned to Ivy’s apartment so the girls could regroup and talk about what they wanted to do later. Catherine changed into a sleek black dress and fixed her makeup in the bathroom mirror. She wanted to look the part for her visit with the Fellini family. She’d learned Dee was going to be there. She’d decided to lay her cards on the table.
She was frightened. Her hands were slick. But, she reasoned, she had nothing to lose. She and the Fellinis had very nearly lost everything in the here and now. The story of Gionnocaro One and Gionnocaro Two was entrenched in the past. It mattered very little.
It only mattered for the pages of Catherine’s book.
Catherine left her car near Ivy’s apartment and took a cab up to the Upper West Side so she didn’t have to deal with parking. Once outside that illustrious building, she got onto the sidewalk and waved hello to the doorman. He was the same as ever. Catherine wondered if he ever had a day off. Maybe he was too proud to take one.
Catherine took the elevator to the penthouse apartment and walked into the open arms of April, her new friend. April smelled like smoke and rose—an exquisite, autumnal perfume. Rainer wheeled Stephan into the living room to say hello. Stephan wore a boisterous smile.
“You brought my granddaughter home,” he said, taking both of Catherine’s hands. “You’re a friend of the Fellini family forever.”
Even if my grandmother and grandfather killed your father? Catherine wondered.
Very soon after Catherine arrived, Rainer left to collect Dee from the Elder Care Home. Throughout his absence, April explained how they’d handled the past two weeks as a family.
“Felicity is taking the semester off to regroup and go to therapy.” April smiled. “It’s funny how easy it is to say that. A year ago, I would have lied before saying my daughter needed therapy. But Rainer and I have lately spoken so often about approaching life with honesty and optimism. We don’t want to hide anymore. Maybe it was that sense of hiding away that forced Felicity away from us in the first place.”
Catherine raised her shoulders. “I’ve thought the same about Ivy.”
April explained that Felicity was attending an all-weekend retreat in Upstate New York for victims of manipulation. “It’s going to take some rewiring, but they think she’ll be okay,” April said. “She’s already spoken about being a potential spokesperson for this kind of thing. She said, ‘Mom, I always thought I was too smart for something like this. It proves how easy it is for young women to get swept up.’ I feel so proud of her. The work your eldest is doing on the documentary is also essential to Felicity’s mission.”
Catherine smiled. “They’re extraordinary.”
April went on to say that the cops were looking into the funds that had been stolen from the parents of the young women.
“Every woman involved gave a statement that their phones were taken away from them. That means the young men were imitating them to get the cash from us parents,” April said. “That’s a federal crime. It’s possible we’ll go to court.”
“Let me know how I can help,” Catherine said.
“You’ve done enough,” April assured her. “But thank you.”
Dee arrived not long after that. Unlike last time, she required no walker to move around. She walked regally, bowing down to kiss her son Stephan on the cheek, then taking Catherine’s hand in hers and smiling.
“It’s just wonderful what you’ve done for my family,” Dee said.
Catherine stood and kissed Dee on the cheek. She wanted to burst with what she knew about Gwen. Her heart swelled.
But already, April urged them all to sit. The cake and coffee were ready. The champagne needed to be popped and poured.
Catherine stood with her flute glass filled with bubbly. She met Dee’s gaze.
“A toast to Catherine, the journalist,” Dee said.
“To Catherine!” the rest of the Fellini family celebrated.
Catherine felt a blush crawl up her arms and across her chest. They sat down, and she struggled not to stare at Dee. To her, Dee seemed to carry a wealth of secrets. Would she ever give them up?
“I think it’s lovely my great-granddaughter will take some time off,” Dee announced.
April perked up. She looked surprised.
“I’ve noticed the tremendous pressure on young women today,” Dee said. “They’re expected to be everything at once. Back when I first went to school, I knew what I was getting into. I knew there would be no help from my husband when it came to childrearing. Of course, I had hired help. But it wasn’t the same. I hardly slept.” Dee studied the tips of her French nails. She spoke as though it was about somebody else’s life.
“Tell Felicity to come by the home soon,” Dee instructed her grandson. “I’d love to talk to her more about the things that matter. Art and beauty and literature and music. We are given so little time on this earth, and these are the things that make that time worth living. I need her to remember that again.”
Dee’s voice cracked just the slightest bit. It was the only proof that there was any emotion behind that gorgeous and formidable face.
It’s her facade. She’s too practiced in keeping it up to ever let it fall, Catherine thought.
Dee turned her attention to Catherine. A shadow passed over her face. For a long moment, Catherine and Dee looked at one another in the eye. Catherine knew better than to break eye contact. Dee called the shots now.
Dee’s lips parted. Then she whispered, “Of course. You really do look so much like her.”
Catherine’s heart shifted. She sees Gwen in my face.
“Like who, Mom?” Stephan asked.
But Dee was the only one who knew. Her eyes were strange. She took a long sip of champagne. “My goodness.”
Catherine dared a response. “She was my grandmother.”
Dee’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away. “My goodness,” she said again.
“Who was your grandmother?” April asked. She turned her eyes from Catherine to Dee and back again.
Secrets and lies hung in the air between all of them.
Dee waved her hand. “Catherine and I need the room.”
Everyone was taken aback. Rainer’s face went blank. Stephan touched the wheels of his chair and furrowed his brow.
But Dee had ordered it. She was the matriarch. She called the shots.
April burst from her chair and wheeled Stephan down the hall, calling back for Rainer to follow. “We’ll be in the music room,” she said. “Just knock when you’re ready for us.”
Suddenly, it was only Dee and Catherine in the room. Dee and Catherine and all those secrets.
Dee picked up the bottle of champagne and refilled her glass, then reached over to refill Catherine’s. Catherine couldn’t breathe. She felt as though she’d traversed continents to get here.
“Gwen was your grandmother,” Dee whispered. Her hand found her heart. “Gwen was my very best friend in the world.”
Catherine swallowed. She didn’t dare speak.
“It means he was your grandfather,” Dee added. “The other Gionnocaro Fellini.”
“I don’t understand,” Catherine breathed. “Your son and your grandson told me stories about your Gionnocaro. They were the same stories my grandfather used to tell me.”
Dee’s face broke into a beautiful smile. “He kept telling them?”
“Until he died,” Catherine said.
Dee leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankles. She looked beautiful.
“I’ve never told this story before,” she said.
Catherine raised her chin. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be allowed to tell this story to anyone else. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to write her book.
But at least she’d know the truth.
“I’ve already told you that my Gionnocaro wasn’t the brightest star in the universe,” Dee began. “He was often an idiot and never a very good academic. I taught him everything I knew. But the problem was, he was incredibly charismatic. Everywhere he went, people loved him. I loved him. More than anything. For a little while.” Dee’s smile fell. “But even before we got married, he showed me how cruel he could be. Italy seemed like a very backward place. Men openly hit their wives. Women did everything in service of them. I think he expected me to be both at once. He wanted me to be the academic who taught him everything, but he also wanted me to cook and clean and deliver children. I felt I was juggling the world, the moon, and Saturn all at once. In fact, Felicity’s story with these young men was very familiar to me. I understand what it was like to be manipulated. It was like having your heart ripped out and reanimated.
“Back then, I hired Gwen to work for us because Gwen had very little and hadn’t been allowed to attend university right away. I just adored her. I adored having her close. She saw firsthand what kind of man Gionnocaro was. She hated him! Every time he started telling another of his stories, she went about slamming doors and cleaning angrily. It cracked me up. But I told her to be careful. I didn’t want Gionnocaro to strike her.”
Dee pulled her lips into a sad smile. “I have a feeling you think there’s a murder at the end of this story. I’m sorry to disappoint you. Gionnocaro’s death was an accident in the truest sense. He was drinking. He fell down the stairs and hit his head.” Dee snapped her fingers. “Just like the papers say, I was in the Hamptons with the children and Gwen at the time. We came back to tend to things. We weren’t sure what to do.
“By then, Gwen was seeing a young man she’d met in the Upper East Side at a jazz club. He was Jewish and incredibly damaged after what he’d seen in Europe. He’d escaped by the hair of his chin,” Dee said. “His wife and two of his children had been taken to the camps and killed there. And he genuinely believed he should have died, too. By 1945, he was in the midst of an identity crisis. He was terrified. He loved Gwen, but he needed to start over.” Dee raised her shoulders. “So I gave Gwen some money. I gave her Gionnocaro’s papers. I gave her a new identity that Joseph could run with.”
Catherine’s jaw hung open. Tears flowed freely.
“I knew we couldn’t see each other much after that,” Dee said. “But she wrote me often from the other side of the park. She and the new Gionnocaro started a bakery together. They had children—sensational children who went on to do brilliant things. The new Gionnocaro no longer clung to his past. He told stories about a royal life in Italy. He put his history to bed.”
Catherine was on her feet. She clutched her flute of champagne with stiff fingers. She thought she might faint.
“So you see?” Dee said with a soft smile. “Your grandfather Gionnocaro could begin anew in America—all because of the stupid death of my arrogant husband. I suppose that makes the two of us linked forever. Doesn’t it? Oh, but what matters is we have our families. Who gives a crap about history as long as we have love.”
Catherine confessed the story to Scarlet and Ivy the following morning over bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches. Scarlet and Ivy didn’t ask a single question. They gaped at her as though she’d lost her mind.
“He lost his children,” Scarlet breathed finally, tightening her arms over her chest. “He lost his first wife.”
The truth of that hung over their table like a cloud.
He left such devastation behind. He built something out of the horror of his life. And that’s the only reason any of us are here.
Catherine convinced her girls to go to Ellis Island one last time. She wanted to find Joseph deVries.
Again, they waited in line for forty-five minutes between other families whose ancestors had floated across the Atlantic to make something new of themselves. What united them was hope—or maybe just the memory of that hope.
It didn’t take long for Catherine, Ivy, and Scarlet to find the photograph of Joseph deVries. In his photograph, he looked sad and broken; the light had gone out from his eyes. When Catherine compared this photo to future photos of her grandfather—after he’d become Gionnocaro Fellini—she realized he’d breathed new life into himself. His eyes were alight. He had a family. He had a new life.
“Hi, Grandpa,” Catherine breathed to the photo as she captured it on her phone. “We found you. And we love you. No matter what you’re called.”