Chapter 3 - Family Day With Mr. Moretti
At eight the next morning, Sophia stared at me in horror.
“No.”
I looked down at myself.
“What?”
“You cheated.”
“I’m wearing normal clothes.”
She pointed accusingly.
Black slacks.
Black shirt.
Black coat.
“No. You’re still wearing funeral colors.”
Maria tried not to laugh.
Marco failed completely.
I looked at him.
He stopped.
“Gray sweater,” Sophia ordered.
“I don't own one.”
Maria quietly said, “You do now.”
She handed me a shopping bag.
I stared at her.
“Marco bought it.”
I looked at Marco.
He shrugged.
“Operational necessity.”
Twenty minutes later, I was wearing a gray sweater.
Sophia approved.
Preschool was worse than any negotiation I'd attended.
Children surrounded me immediately.
“Are you Sophia’s daddy?”
“No.”
“Grandpa?”
I stared at the boy.
“I’m thirty-eight.”
He shrugged.
“You look old.”
Sophia defended me.
“He’s borrowed.”
The teacher nearly dropped her clipboard.
During craft time, Sophia gave me glue.
I used too much.
“You’re bad at this,” she said.
“I've never done it.”
“My daddy was bad too.”
That silenced me.
Sophia smiled.
“So it’s okay.”
Across the room, Maria watched.
Marco stood near the door pretending to check his phone.
But he was watching Maria.
Again.
I walked toward him.
“You're terrible at hiding it.”
“Hiding what?”
I looked at him.
He sighed.
“I care about her.”
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Marco frowned.
“Good?”
“She buried her husband eight months ago. Don't make her responsible for your feelings.”
His expression hardened.
“I wouldn't.”
“I know.”
That was why Marco was still standing beside me.
After preschool came the park.
Sophia ran toward the swings.
“You promised!”
I pushed.
“Higher!”
I pushed harder.
“HIGHER!”
Maria called, “Not that high!”
Sophia laughed.
For a few minutes, everything became strangely ordinary.
Then Marco approached.
His expression told me it was over.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Blue sedan across the street.”
I kept pushing Sophia.
“Bellini?”
“Driver matches one of his men.”
Maria heard.
Her smile disappeared.
“Take Sophia,” I said.
“No,” Marco replied.
I turned.
He was looking past me.
A man stood near an ice-cream truck.
Watching Maria.
Marco moved immediately.
Not aggressively.
Just placing himself between them.
The stranger saw him.
Turned.
Walked away.
“Follow him,” I said.
One of our security men disappeared into the crowd.
Sophia shouted from the swing.
“Ice cream!”
Maria forced a smile.
“Sophia, maybe we should go home.”
The child’s face fell.
“But Mr. Moretti promised.”
I looked across the street.
The blue sedan was gone.
Then at Maria.
“Strawberry?”
Sophia nodded.
“Two scoops.”
“Three.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Deal.”
She jumped down.
At the ice-cream stand, Maria touched my arm.
“Thank you.”
“For ice cream?”
“For letting her have today.”
I watched Sophia explain to Marco why vanilla was “a boring flavor.”
“She needed it.”
“So did you.”
I looked at Maria.
“What does that mean?”
“You smiled.”
“I smile.”
“No, you don't.”
Marco overheard.
“He really doesn't.”
“Marco.”
He turned away.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Sophia.
Taken minutes earlier on the swing.
Under it were six words.
Miguel should have kept his mouth shut.
Maria saw my face.
“What?”
I locked the screen.
“Nothing.”
“Don't lie to me.”
Marco came closer.
I showed him.
His jaw tightened.
Maria covered her mouth.
Then another message arrived.
The girl goes next.
I looked toward Sophia.
She was still smiling.
Still eating strawberry ice cream.
Still completely unaware.
I handed the phone to Marco.
“Take Maria and Sophia home.”
Maria shook her head.
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out who sent it.”
Marco said, “You're not going alone.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Boss.”
“That’s an order.”
He stared at me.
Then nodded.
Maria stepped closer.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“What?”
“Bring back the truth.”
May you like
I looked at her.
“I intend to.”
