THE TWO HOURS HE COULDN'T GIVE

"Tell me that elevator hasn't been running."

Luca's voice was quiet, but I could hear the anger beneath it.

Marco stood beside the table with his hands clasped.

"It was turned on again yesterday afternoon."

I felt sick.

Yesterday was Thursday.

My father had been dead for two days.

"Who authorized that?" Luca asked.

Marco looked toward Vanessa.

She lifted her chin.

"I did. After consulting the people responsible for the wedding arrangements."

"That's not what I asked."

"I've already told you."

"Did a licensed elevator mechanic inspect it after Frank Bennett shut it down?"

Vanessa hesitated.

"There was a follow-up assessment."

"By whom?"

"Our event contractor."

Luca stared at her.

"An event contractor isn't an elevator mechanic."

"You're twisting this."

"No. I'm asking whether people have been riding equipment a professional mechanic said was unsafe."

Nobody answered.

I looked at the orange warning tag lying beside my father's photograph.

Dad had always been particular about those tags.

Once, when I was eleven, I'd asked why he kept so many in his truck.

He'd told me that a warning wasn't supposed to frighten people.

It was supposed to give them the chance to get home safely.

I hadn't thought about that conversation in sixteen years.

Now it was all I could hear.

Luca turned toward the restaurant manager.

"Shut the elevator down. Lock access at both landings. No exceptions until an independent licensed mechanic clears it."

"Yes, boss."

Marco moved toward the service station.

Vanessa stepped in front of him.

"Stop."

He froze.

"Vanessa," Luca said.

She turned.

"Do you have any idea how many people are attending tomorrow's luncheon?"

"We'll move it downstairs."

"The floral installation is upstairs."

"Then move the flowers."

"The musicians are upstairs."

"Move them too."

"There isn't enough room downstairs."

Luca looked around the enormous dining room.

"There are thirty people sitting comfortably here tonight."

"Tomorrow there will be forty-six."

"We have another room on this floor."

"That room doesn't fit the aesthetic."

He stared at her.

For a moment, I thought he hadn't heard.

Then he asked, "The aesthetic?"

Vanessa's face reddened.

"You know what I mean."

"Not when we're discussing an unsafe elevator."

Sofia Bellini finally spoke.

"Perhaps everyone should calm down."

Luca turned toward her.

"Mrs. Bellini, did you know about the warning?"

Sofia looked at her daughter.

"I knew there had been an issue with the building."

"Did you know the elevator had been taken out of service?"

"No."

Vanessa's shoulders stiffened.

"Mother."

Sofia shook her head.

"You told me the maintenance had been completed."

The silence that followed felt different.

Until now, Vanessa had behaved like a woman being publicly criticized for a disagreement about staff.

But this was no longer about staffing.

And everyone knew it.

Marco returned with a small ring of keys.

"I've secured the ground-floor entrance," he said. "The upstairs access will be locked as soon as the attendant brings the car down empty."

"Thank you," Luca answered.

My hands were shaking again.

I tried to hide them beneath the table.

Luca noticed.

"Claire, are you all right?"

I nodded automatically.

Then shook my head.

"No, sir."

He pulled his chair closer.

"Tell me."

"My father knew that elevator."

I looked at the warning tag.

"He worked on it years ago, when Mr. Moretti Senior was still alive. He used to say the old building had beautiful bones, but the machinery needed respect."

Luca's expression softened.

"My father used to say something similar."

I swallowed.

"Dad said your father once refused to close the restaurant for renovations because several longtime employees couldn't afford to miss their paychecks."

A faint, sad smile crossed Luca's face.

"That sounds like him."

"He said your father arranged for everyone to work in the downstairs dining room while the repairs were done."

Luca looked toward Vanessa.

"Funny how my father managed that without putting anybody at risk."

She looked down.

Marco cleared his throat.

"There's something else."

Luca nodded.

"Go ahead."

"Frank didn't only ask about the elevator. He asked specifically whether Mrs. Moretti would be attending the luncheon."

My chest tightened.

That explained his question to me on Sunday.

Luca frowned.

"Why?"

"Because he remembered her knees. He said the upper dining room was difficult to reach without the lift."

At the far end of the table, Teresa Moretti slowly raised her hand.

"Luca."

He turned immediately.

His seventy-eight-year-old mother sat in a navy dress with a pearl necklace resting against her collar.

She'd been quiet throughout the confrontation.

Now her face looked pale.

"Mom?"

"Vanessa told me the upstairs dining room was especially arranged for me."

Vanessa's eyes widened.

"Teresa, please—"

"She said I wouldn't have to climb the staircase."

Luca rose and walked toward his mother.

"When did she tell you that?"

"Last weekend."

Teresa looked toward the orange tag.

"She said the elevator had been inspected."

Vanessa reached for her glass but didn't drink.

"It was supposed to be repaired."

Teresa spoke gently.

"Then why did you tell me it already was?"

Vanessa didn't answer.

I watched Luca kneel beside his mother's chair.

He rested one tattooed hand over hers.

"You're not using that elevator tomorrow."

Teresa squeezed his fingers.

"I wasn't planning to once I heard about Claire's father."

My eyes filled.

She looked at me.

"Your father repaired our old service elevator when my husband was alive. I remember him because he never let me feel foolish for being afraid of getting stuck."

I pressed the funeral program against my chest.

"Thank you, Mrs. Moretti."

"He was patient," she continued. "That's a rare gift."

Luca lowered his head.

For the first time that evening, his anger seemed mixed with grief.

He'd lost his own father five years earlier.

And I realized this wasn't simply an argument about his engagement.

It was forcing him to remember what his father had built—and how carelessly that legacy might be lost.

Vanessa approached slowly.

"Luca, I would never deliberately put your mother in danger."

He looked up.

"Then why didn't you listen when Frank told you something was wrong?"