Chapter 2 - A QUESTION NO RING COULD ANSWER
Vanessa stared at Luca as though he'd slapped her.
"You're asking me to defend our marriage in front of the help?"
"No," Luca answered. "I'm asking you to explain why you threatened a grieving woman's livelihood."
The thirty guests remained silent.
I sat between Luca and his fiancée, clutching my father's funeral program so tightly that the paper had begun to bend.
Vanessa looked toward her mother, Sofia Bellini, who sat near the end of the table.
"Surely somebody here understands that a business cannot operate without rules."
Sofia lowered her eyes.
That frightened me more than if she'd defended her daughter.
Luca rested both hands on the table.
"Marco offered to cover Claire's shift. You refused his help. So this wasn't about staffing."
"It was about setting a precedent."
"What precedent?"
"That employees cannot demand special treatment whenever something goes wrong in their personal lives."
My face burned.
I wanted to disappear.
I'd never asked for special treatment.
I'd asked for two hours beside my father's casket.
Luca noticed me shrinking into the chair.
"Claire, you don't need to defend yourself."
Vanessa gave a bitter laugh.
"Of course she doesn't. You've already decided I'm the villain."
"Then give me a reason to think otherwise."
For the first time, Vanessa's confidence faltered.
She touched her engagement ring.
"Because I've spent six months organizing a wedding that reflects this family properly. Because every mistake becomes my responsibility. Because everyone expects me to smile while they make my job impossible."
Her voice cracked on the last sentence.
I looked up.
Until that moment, I'd never considered that Vanessa might be afraid of disappointing someone.
But fear didn't explain what she'd done.
Luca softened his voice.
"I know you've worked hard."
"Do you?"
"Yes. But that doesn't give you the right to hurt people."
Vanessa looked directly at me.
"Claire's father was here on Monday."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
She folded her hands.
"Perhaps she'd like to explain that."
I looked from Vanessa to Luca.
"My father?"
"Don't pretend you don't know."
"I don't."
Vanessa leaned forward.
"He came to the restaurant demanding to speak with Luca. He made quite a scene."
I shook my head.
"Dad was barely strong enough to walk to his truck on Monday."
"Apparently he found the strength."
The words struck harder than I expected.
My father had been losing weight for months.
His heart wasn't working properly anymore.
On Sunday afternoon, I'd helped him into his favorite brown jacket because he insisted on checking the tires on my car.
He'd needed to sit down halfway through.
"Dad," I'd told him, "please stop worrying about my car."
He'd smiled.
"Old habits, peanut."
That was the last conversation we'd had without him struggling for breath.
And now Vanessa was telling thirty strangers he'd caused trouble at the restaurant.
Luca turned toward Marco.
"Did Frank Bennett come here Monday?"
Marco stepped away from the service station.
"Yes, sir."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Why?"
Marco looked at me with genuine sadness.
"He asked whether you were working."
I covered my mouth.
"Nobody told me."
"I know."
Vanessa immediately interrupted.
"Because he wasn't supposed to interrupt his daughter's shift."
Luca raised one hand.
"Let Marco finish."
The manager swallowed.
"Mr. Bennett came around two in the afternoon. He was carrying a small canvas tool bag."
"My father's tools?" I whispered.
Marco nodded.
"He said there was something he needed to show Mr. Moretti before Saturday."
Luca frowned.
"Show me what?"
Marco hesitated.
Vanessa's voice sharpened.
"Marco, this has nothing to do with Claire's funeral."
"Then why didn't you tell me?" Luca asked.
She turned toward him.
"Because I handled it."
"How?"
"He wanted the restaurant to pay for unnecessary work. I refused."
I shook my head again.
"My father never demanded money from anyone."
Vanessa looked almost relieved.
"Then perhaps you didn't know him as well as you thought."
Luca stood so abruptly that his chair scraped against the floor.
"Enough."
His voice wasn't loud.
But every conversation in the restaurant stopped.
"You will not insult her father again."
Vanessa stared at him.
Then her expression changed.
Not to remorse.
To worry.
Luca noticed.
"Marco, what did Frank want repaired?"
Marco looked toward the hallway leading to the restaurant's west passenger elevator.
"The elevator serving the second-floor private dining room."
A strange memory surfaced.
Three days before Dad died, he'd asked me whether Mrs. Moretti still used the elevator when she visited the restaurant.
I'd told him she did.
Her knees bothered her, especially on stairs.
He'd gone quiet.
Then he'd asked who was maintaining the equipment now.
I'd laughed and told him he was supposed to be retired.
He hadn't laughed back.
"Marco," Luca said, "what was wrong with the elevator?"
"I didn't know the full details, boss. Frank said he needed to inspect the upper landing."
"Did you let him?"
"Yes."
Vanessa pushed back her chair.
"That was unauthorized."
Marco looked at her.
"You told me to let him check it."
"Only because he insisted."
Luca's eyes narrowed.
"Did Frank find something?"
Marco nodded.
"He came downstairs about forty minutes later. He was pale. He asked for a chair and a glass of water."
My chest tightened.
Forty minutes.
My father had spent forty minutes working in that condition.
And nobody had called me.
"He told me the elevator shouldn't be used," Marco continued.
Vanessa stood.
"It was a minor maintenance issue."
"Was it?" Luca asked.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you mention it?"
"Because the luncheon is tomorrow, and the contractor assured me everything would be fine."
Luca became very still.
"What contractor?"
Vanessa looked away.
At the end of the table, Sofia Bellini set down her napkin.
I heard my father's voice in my memory.
Never let somebody rush you past a safety warning, peanut.
Dad had spent thirty-eight years keeping other people's families safe.
Even when his own body was failing him.
And suddenly I understood why he'd asked about Mrs. Moretti.
He hadn't gone to the restaurant looking for work.
He'd gone because he was frightened something might happen.
Luca turned back to Marco.
"Tell me exactly what Frank said."
Marco looked at Vanessa.
Then at me.
"He said the upper landing wasn't securing properly. He wanted the car taken out of service until a replacement assembly could be fitted."
Vanessa shook her head.
"You're making this sound far worse than it was."
Marco's voice trembled.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bellini."
He reached into his jacket.
Then placed a folded orange warning tag on the white tablecloth.
Across its front, in my father's familiar block handwriting, were four words.
DO NOT OPERATE. UNSAFE.
Luca stared at the tag.
"Why isn't this attached to the elevator?"
Marco swallowed.
"Because Mrs. Bellini instructed me to remove it."
Vanessa went white.
And Marco added something that made Luca slowly turn toward his fiancée.
"Boss, Frank didn't come here asking for money."
He looked at the guests.
"He came because that elevator failed his inspection."
May you like
Then he lowered his voice.
"And Vanessa told me to put it back into service anyway."
