Chapter 6 - THE WATCH WITH NO MORE HOURS
"Bellini Events?"
My mother read the name over my shoulder.
Her face changed.
"That's Luca's fiancée's company, isn't it?"
I nodded.
The supplier's ticket shook in my hands.
Dad had sold his watch for two hundred and sixty dollars.
He'd paid for a part he believed somebody needed.
And someone had collected it after he died.
I looked toward the chapel parking lot.
Luca was helping his mother into their car.
For one moment, I wanted to run after him.
Then I looked at the hearse waiting to take Dad to the cemetery.
I folded the ticket.
"Not yet," I whispered.
My mother studied me.
"What?"
"Today belongs to Dad."
She slipped her arm around my waist.
"Then let's go say goodbye properly."
At the cemetery, the wind cut through my father's brown jacket.
I stood beside Mom while the minister said the final prayers.
Harold placed a small wrench beside the flowers.
Another coworker left a folded baseball cap.
I laid the photograph from the funeral program near the casket.
Dad smiling beside his truck.
For a moment, I could almost hear him complaining about the cold.
Zip that coat, peanut.
I pulled the jacket closed.
Then I said goodbye.
After the burial, my mother wanted to go home.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the ticket.
Luca approached as the last mourners began leaving.
"Claire, Marco arranged for your wages to be paid through next week."
I looked at him.
"Thank you."
"Please don't worry about work today."
I took the folded paper from my pocket.
"Sir, there's something you need to see."
He hesitated.
"Are you sure?"
"My father wanted you to know."
I handed him the ticket.
He read it once.
Then again.
"Where did this come from?"
"His coat."
Luca looked toward my mother.
"Mrs. Bennett, did Frank buy this himself?"
She nodded.
"He sold his watch to pay for it."
Luca's jaw tightened.
"His watch?"
"The one I gave him for our anniversary."
I watched the anger move across Luca's face.
But he didn't raise his voice.
Instead, he folded the paper carefully and returned it.
"Claire, your father shouldn't have had to pay for a repair at my restaurant."
"He was trying to help."
"I know."
He looked toward the fresh grave.
"And I intend to find out why somebody collected the part and left it unused."
My mother touched my arm.
"Claire, you don't have to go back there today."
"I know."
"Your father wouldn't want you spending his funeral day chasing somebody else's mistakes."
I looked at Dad's jacket.
"Maybe not."
Then I looked at the ticket.
"But he'd want somebody to keep that elevator shut."
Luca nodded.
"It is shut. I've confirmed it with Marco."
"Good."
"And I have an independent mechanic coming this afternoon."
For the first time all morning, I felt a little relief.
My mother watched us both.
Then she said, "Claire, I want you home for supper."
I nodded.
"I will be."
She brushed a strand of hair from my face.
"That's all I'm asking."
Luca arranged for a driver to take her home.
He offered me the same.
I shook my head.
"I'd like to go back to the restaurant."
He looked surprised.
"Claire, you're on leave."
"I'm not going to work."
I held up the ticket.
"I just want to see what happened to Dad's last repair."
Luca considered that.
Then nodded.
"All right. But you don't owe anyone an investigation."
"I know."
We arrived at the restaurant shortly after noon.
The bridal luncheon had already been moved downstairs.
The white flowers were beautiful.
The tables were arranged perfectly.
But the atmosphere felt different.
People spoke quietly.
Some guests had heard about the engagement being placed on hold.
Others simply noticed Vanessa wasn't smiling.
She stood beside the floral display, speaking with a young assistant.
When she saw me, her expression tightened.
"Claire?"
I stopped.
"You have the day off."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
Luca stepped beside me.
"She's here because we have questions about a part her father purchased."
Vanessa looked at the paper in my hand.
Her face lost color.
"What part?"
I unfolded the collection ticket.
"The one Bellini Events picked up Tuesday."
For several seconds, Vanessa didn't speak.
Then she said, "That was a routine supply order."
"My father paid for it."
"Claire, I don't manage every purchase personally."
Luca looked at her.
"Then who does?"
"My operations staff."
"Where is the part?"
She hesitated.
"I assume it's with the maintenance supplies."
"Assume?"
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
"Are you seriously interrogating me about a box of elevator parts at our engagement luncheon?"
Luca answered calmly.
"This is no longer an engagement luncheon. It's a meal for guests who already traveled here."
Several people nearby turned their heads.
Vanessa noticed.
Her cheeks reddened.
"You didn't have to say that in front of everybody."
"I've already spoken to our families."
She looked away.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Because the paper in my hand was proof that my father had spent money his family needed.
And she was talking about embarrassment.
Marco approached with a small maintenance inventory book.
"The delivery was received Tuesday," he said.
"By whom?" Luca asked.
"Someone from Bellini Events. I wasn't here when it arrived."
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"Then ask the people who were."
Marco turned toward an older woman standing near the service station.
"Rosa?"
Rosa Vega had worked at the restaurant for seventeen years.
She was sixty-one, with silver streaks in her dark hair and the calm manner of someone who'd survived a thousand difficult dinner services.
She approached carefully.
"Yes, Marco?"
"Do you remember a delivery from the elevator supplier on Tuesday?"
Rosa looked at Vanessa.
Then nodded.
"I signed the building receiving log."
My pulse quickened.
"Did you see what happened to it?"
"It was a small cardboard carton. Heavy for its size."
"Where did it go?"
"Miss Bellini told the florist's crew to move it into the event storage area."
Vanessa shook her head.
"That can't be right."
Rosa's expression tightened.
"I remember because I asked whether it was fragile."
Luca turned to Marco.
"Bring it here, please."
Marco went to the adjoining storage area.
Nobody spoke while we waited.
Vanessa looked toward her mother, who sat at one of the luncheon tables.
Sofia watched silently.
A few minutes later, Marco returned carrying a dust-covered cardboard carton.
It was still taped shut.
My father's name was written across one side in thick black marker.
FRANK BENNETT — WEST LIFT.
I covered my mouth.
He'd bought it.
He'd paid for it.
He'd even made sure they knew where it belonged.
Marco placed the box on the table.
Luca examined the shipping label.
Then he noticed another marking written across the top.
In red ink were three words.
HOLD UNTIL MONDAY.
Beneath them was a familiar signature.
Vanessa Bellini.
Luca slowly looked up.
"Vanessa."
She said nothing.
May you like
He touched the unopened box.
"You had the part my mother needed to ride that elevator safely, and you ordered it held until after the luncheon?"
