“If you ever need anything, just let me know.” We reached Nicoletta’s bedroom door. “Now, you’re not an idiot, Ophelia, and I would not treat you as such. It goes without saying that what you hear, what you see, is nobody’s business—not even your own.”
Ophelia nodded. “I know.”
I smiled and patted her arm. “Wonderful! You’re going to be a great addition to our household.” I knocked on the door, calling to Nicoletta softly.
The piano quieted and she called back out to me.
I opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Nicoletta sitting at her instrument. She was dressed in a white nightgown, gray hair unbound and eyes glassy. When she spotted me, she smiled in greeting—a smile which widened when she noticed Dante.
“Oh, you brought the baby!” she said in Italian, clasping her hands together.
Ophelia glanced at me but didn’t say anything.
“Nicoletta, please meet Ophelia. She will be with you from now on, instead of Elizabeth.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Ophelia said politely, her Italian mixed with American dialect.
Nicoletta rose from her piano, shakily. “Let me see Alessandro,” she said. “Little baby Alessandro. Where is his brother?”
“Sleeping.” I stepped closer to her, twisting my shoulder to the side, so she could see Dante’s little face.
She completely brightened.
To Ophelia, I said, “Any questions?”
“When was she diagnosed?” Ophelia asked, no longer afraid but now clinically aware of her patient.
“It is hard to say—there are no real records and medical science is abundantly better than it was. But she was suspected to have schizophrenia very young...perhaps early thirties? However, recently it has been updated to a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
Ophelia nodded, expression calculating. “She seems fairly advanced.”
“There are good and bad days,” I replied. “I hope you’re not reconsidering your job.”
“No.” She smiled at Nicoletta. “No, I’m not.”
Nicoletta reached out and stroked Dante’s head lightly, the soft blonde hairs sticking up. She muttered something in Italian that I didn’t quite catch, but from the adoring look on her face, I couldn’t imagine it to be anything bad.
“Beppe will visit her often. But other than that, call me before letting anyone else visit her,” I said. “And if you leave the house with her, I need to know, and you will be set up with a security detail.”
“I understand.”
“What happened to the girl before me? Elizabeth, did you say her name was?”
I threw Ophelia a smile. “Elizabeth was a bit of a loudmouth.” And though Elizabeth had never shared a secret—that I knew of—it was more the principle of the act.
Plus, I was trying to gain as much control over this family as possible. And having an employee who was more loyal to Nina Genovese than I was not going to work.
“Are you not tired?” I asked Nicoletta. “It is the middle of the night.”
“No, no.” Nicoletta took sudden interest in my hand. “That is my wedding ring.”
I twisted the ring with my fingers, tucking it away. A few times she had noticed my wedding ring and seemed more perplexed than distressed by the discovery. But for hours afterward, she often kept staring down her blank fingers, at the empty strip of skin where the ring once had been.
“Won’t you play for Ophelia?” I tried to distract Nicoletta.
It worked. Nicoletta glided over to the piano, sitting down as if she was performing for an entire theater. Despite her memory slowly deteriorating, the muscle memory in her fingers had never faltered and she played the instrument with talent and perfection.
Ophelia watched this all with interest.
“Any questions?” I asked her in English.
She frowned slightly and gestured to the door. “Will that Nero be around?”
“Not often,” I replied. “I will warn him you are off limits.” Not that it would likely ever stop the assassino from claiming his prize.
But Ophelia looked slightly relieved. “Thank you,” she said. “Men like that are nothing but trouble.”
I laughed. If only she knew...
“A re you excited to leave the house for the first time?” I asked Dante as I strapped him into his car seat.
Dante didn’t respond.
“I’m excited,” I told him. “Your dad and I are going to take you to the park. And Polpetto’s joining us.”
“Is he talking back?” came Alessandro’s voice.
I shot him a look over my shoulder. “He won’t learn how to speak if we don’t speak to him. I read it in a book.”
My husband bowed his head, but still look incredibly amused.
A few days had passed since Nero showed up with Ophelia, marking exactly one week since Dante had come into the world. It was strange to think that Don Piero had only been dead for a week, that his funeral had just been the other day. Especially in my post-partum haze, when time seemed to be slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.
Today was a strangely warm October day, the sunlight bouncing of the red and orange leaves. Alessandro didn’t have to work, so he was joining Dante and I on our first trip out of the house. I knew Alessandro had things to do, but after expressing my anxiety about leaving the house with Dante, he had magically become available.
Our little family got into the SUV, joined by an obnoxiously large picnic basket and two bodyguards in the vehicle behind us. Polpetto sat on my lap—I didn’t trust him in the back with the baby.
My phone buzzed and I checked it.
“Why are you frowning?” Alessandro asked as he pulled out of the street.
“Chiara di Traglia texted me.” She had invited me to lunch with her, but I knew it wasn’t my company she sought. “The di Traglias are not happy about Adelasia. They’re desperate for information.”
My husband rubbed his mouth. “I know.”
“Has Nero had any more luck?”
“No. It’s like she vanished into thin air.”
I scratched Polpetto’s belly, and his tail wagged happily in response. “Has your brother said anything?”
“If he has, it hasn’t been to me. I imagine he is trying to find her as well, so he can marry her and legitimize the baby.”
Having an heir would give Salvatore Jr another leg-up in the competition. That was the only reason why he had turned his attentions to poor Adelasia.
“Do you think Salvatore has a chance?” I asked. “Of being the next Don?”
Alessandro tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You and I will be the next Don. So, it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s not what I asked,” I reminded him gently.
“What do you think?” he asked.
I thought about it. “Well...Salvatore Jr has been in charge of security for years, hasn’t he? Meaning the soldati know him probably the best out of all the Rocchettis. They may very well offer him their support.”
“You’re right,” Alessandro said. “We’re going to change that.”
I smiled, unable to stop how warm my heart felt whenever he listened to—and agreed with—my opinion. “I’ll handle the wives. I already know most of them.” I held up Polpetto, who vibrated in my hands from excitement. “Isn’t that right, my darling?”