The Inheritance: Chapter 5 - Part II (Updated 11/14)
CuriousSimmer:
The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part III
December 1961
Angela Giorelli hated unexpected visitors. She never did know quite what to do with them. So when the doorbell rang one night in the first week of December, as she was beginning to cook dinner for herself and her husband, a sense of impending dread came over her. When she answered the door, she found her recently-widowed sister-in-law and niece on the doorstep.
"Sorry to drop in on you this way," said Maria, Giovanni's sister. "But you said you wouldn't mind taking Eva for a few days, Gio. I could really use some time to get the affairs of my house in order. Do you mind?"
Angela could tell that there was something that passed unsaid between the siblings. Before she could say anything, Giovanni said, "Of course Eva can stay with us. And if there's anything we can do to help with Ricardo's affairs, let us know."
"Thank you so much," said Maria. "Her school is nearby so you don't have to worry about anything. Now, Eva, you behave yourself for your aunt and uncle, do you understand me?"
"Yes, mother," said Eva sweetly. "Thank you for having me to stay, Aunt Angela, Uncle Giorelli. If there's anything I can do for you while I'm here, I'm happy to help out."
"She's very good with her hands," Maria said proudly to her brother.
"Is she?" asked Angela idly. Angela wondered what her niece's other skills were. After all, there was one skill that Eva had yet to learn.
Hiding her injuries...and her secrets.
Meanwhile, at the Moretti Villa...
That night, I was entertaining a visitor of my own--and worrying about my daughter, who had not yet returned from her tutoring appointment. As I finished the roast, Dante called the O'Reillys and confirmed that Josephine was still there.
Right on time, Father Bianchi arrived. He was old, yes, but he had a quiet strength about him that said he should be ministering to us for quite some time. I walked him into the dining room, explaining, "I'm sorry you won't get to see Josephine, she's tutoring a young man in town tonight. But I think Dante told you over the phone why we needed you."
"Oh yes. But I must reiterate that if you'd like my services you ought to let me do my dance. Many parents attempt to interfere during my questioning, and it sometimes leads to resentment on all parties."
"Yes, Father."
We sat down to dinner and after some time, Father Bianchi turned his attention to Marco. "Tell me, Marco: do you intend to go to the university?"
"I don't know, Father. I hadn't considered it."
"It's a wonderful place to meet people your own age," said the priest. "Are any of your friends going to college?"
Marco considered this for a moment, then bent his head over his plate and began to cut his slice of roast. "I guess," he said noncommittally. "I don't really...pass the gravy, please?" He looked at me and I passed him the gravy boat.
"If you don't go to university, what will you do?" asked Father Bianchi, who looked as if he had made a note of something in his mind. "Do you intend to follow your father into the management business?"
"No," said Marco. He took a bite of his pot roast.
"Carpentry?" asked Father Bianchi. Marco shook his head. "Another trade?"
"I don't know," said Marco honestly.
"What would you like to do?" asked Father Bianchi kindly.
"Do you really want to know?" asked Marco, looking somewhat ashamed. My heart was wrenched; he obviously didn't understand why the old priest was badgering him.
"Of course."
He looked at Father Bianchi earnestly, then looked at me. "I was thinking I might go into the priesthood," he confessed, blushing profusely. Clearly he was embarrassed.
"Really?" Dante asked, his jaw dropping. I knew that he had thought I was imagining things, and never imagined that he would possibly be interested in the way of the Cloth.
Dante's shock was nothing to my own, but I had been imagining things that were much worse: that he was despairing and lonely and couldn't tell us. I beamed down the table at him. "That's wonderful, Marco. I think you would make a wonderful Priest."
"Mrs. Moretti, please."
Father Bianchi held up a hand. "Marco, if you would like to enter the Priesthood, then I would be happy to help you to do so--with your parents' kind permission until you're an adult, of course."
Marco smiled, and looked genuinely happy. "Thank you, Father. I would appreciate your help." And after this exchange, I served dessert, and Father Bianchi returned home. Marco, excited about Father Bianchi's encouragement and Dante's and my acceptance, ran to his room to study his Bible.
Dante went to bed at eight after I told him I would stay up and wait for Josephine's return. The longer she was out in the darkness, the angrier I got until I was nearly trembling with anger.
Josephine came walking up the path to the door at 8:30. She was trying to sneak until she noticed me sitting by the stairs, waiting for her. She came in and shut the door behind her. "Mom, I'm really sorry for being so late, but--"
"We'll talk in the morning, young lady," I said sternly. I didn't even care at this point if I sounded harsh. She had behaved irresponsibly and violated the rules that Dante and I had set down. "We'll talk about this in the morning."
"But mom," Josephine started, but I didn't let her continue.
"March," I said quietly. Josephine, seeing the unpleasant look on my face, dropped her case and took to the stairs. A moment later, I heard the door to the childrens' rooms close. I locked the door and went upstairs to Dante. I was burning to talk to him about what had happened, but I wouldn't wake him up. So I settled down to a sleepless night.
The next day...
The next afternoon, my friend Adela was washing her front windows when she spotted something that she hadn't noticed before: a man had moved into the shop across the street; she hadn't noticed him carrying boxes and crates into the shop.
Adela closed the shop early and crossed the street. She went into the store and a cultured Italian voice said, "I'm sorry, we're closed and I'm very busy."
"I'm sorry," Adela said. "I'm not here to shop. I own the bakery across the street; I came over to welcome you to the neighborhood."
"Oh," said the man behind the counter. "In that case I'm not busy at all, come in."
"I'm Adela," she said as they shook hands. "Adela Koenig of the Koenig Bakery."
The olive-skinned shopkeeper bowed over Adela's hand. "And I am Silvio de Luca of Confections de Luca."
"I get that," said Adela with a humorous smile. "That's funny."
"And delicious, I hope," said Silvio, finally releasing her hand. "Please, try a truffle. The caramel are my favorite."
When Adela left the shop ten minutes later, she couldn't help but think (licking melted chocolate from her finger) that a little competition was just what the town needed. And if it was a handsome Italian confectioner that provided it, then that was just icing on the cake.
Meanwhile, across town...
While Adela was getting carried away with the idea of a new neighbor, I was dealing with a situation that was somewhat less pleasant. I had arranged to pick up Josephine from school and to have a talk with her on the ride home.
"Where were you last night?" I demanded as soon as she buckled herself in.
"I was at Donovan's. We were studying for the grammar test we had today." She looked at me sidelong. "Mom, I'm sorry I was late home, but Donovan's motorcycle broke down on the way, and we had to walk back to get his dad to fix it."
"Motorcycle?!" I demanded. "Josephine Moretti, under no circumstances are you to ride a motorcycle!"
"Well," said Josephine. "You can't really hold me responsible for breaking a rule yesterday that you made up today!"
As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. I said, "Fine. From now on you'll study at our house, and he can be out in the night until eight thirty."
"Okay, Mom." Josephine sighed contentedly. "We'll study at home."
That night...
Angela Giorelli cleaned off the table after serving her husband and niece dinner. By the time she returned, having set the dishes in the sink, the conversation had turned to the death of Eva's father.
"Your mother told us about the accident, Eva," said Angela kindly. "If you ever need to talk about it, you can always talk to me or to your uncle. Or we can take you to Father Bianchi; his counsel is always helpful to me."
"Why would I need to talk?" asked Eva, sipping her water and framing Angela with a curious look.
"Because," said Giovanni. "Your mother told me that you might think it was your fault."
Eva smiled at both of them, setting her water glass down. "Of course not, Uncle Giovanni. It's not my fault; it was my father's. I didn't kill him for no reason, you know. Is there anything for dessert?" She looked around at her aunt, smiling as if she had just been discussing the weather.
Angela and Giovanni exchanged alarmed glances. Neither knew quite what to say, so Angela stood and went to the kitchen to cut Eva a slice of cake. But Giovanni knew a possible opportunity when he saw one. He leaned close to Eva and said, "Eva...we need to talk."
"About why I did it?" asked Eva angelically. "That's all my mother wants to talk about."
"No, Eva," said Giovanni. He cast a covert gaze into the kitchen, where Angela was working. "I'm sure we'll get to that. But I wonder if... if you might... how do you..."
"It's easy," said Eva, a thrill coming to her voice. "You just have to want it, and you'll find the tools you need. You have to hate them."
Giovanni glanced back into the kitchen doorway, where Angela was carrying a few plates of cake into the dining room. He patted Eva's hand. "Don't worry, my dear. That isn't a problem."
CuriousSimmer:
I realized it's kind of hard to see, so I'll clue everyone in: Eva has a black right eye (Which is the injury referenced in the first part of the post).
Zorom:
OOOOOHHH.....I'm so excited....I want Adela to hook up with that italian lad!
My ridiculous theory:
Josephine falls in love with Donovan and they're about to kiss when Eva swoops in. Then Eva murders Dante and then....no, it's too ridiculous.
Keep up weith the updates!! I love 'em!
CuriousSimmer:
The Inheritance
Chapter 2 - Part IV
December 1961
The second week of December, while looking in on one of Josephine's study sessions with Donovan, I stumbled upon something that I didn't want to see.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Here was the O'Reilly boy, kissing my daughter, bold as brass! I shut the door noisily and watched (with no small measure of satisfaction) as the two sprang apart.
"Good night, Donovan," I said brusquely. Josephine began to protest, but I simply stood aside and opened the door for Donovan. With an apologetic look at Josephine he walked out.
"I can't believe you just did that!" Josephine cried. "You embarrassed me!"
"You were about to embarrass yourself," I replied. "What were you thinking? You don't even know that boy. How could you be kissing him?"
"I like him!" Josephine shot back. "We were just kissing, mom, don't make such a big deal out of it!"
"You think I'm making a big deal out of it, young lady? How about this: you are forbidden to see that boy again, do you understand me?"
"You can't do that!" Josephine said. "Mom, please. I didn't do anything wrong, how can you do this?"
"Forbidden," I said. "You'll call Mrs. O'Reilly tomorrow and apologize. If he still needs help then your brother can tutor him."
Josephine, giving a disbelieving groan, stormed into her room and slammed the door. I did the same to my bedroom.
I explained the situation to Dante. Amazingly, he thought I was overreacting. "What do you mean, overreacting?" I demanded confrontationally. "She was kissing him! Kissing him!" I reiterated, gesticulating wildly, as if he was having trouble understanding me.
"She's sixteen," Dante said reasonably. "Why shouldn't she have a kiss?"
"You didn't see them," I said, folding my arms. "You didn't see the way he was... they were... he was kissing her," I all but shouted. "How can you be so calm?"
"It's not that big of a deal," Dante said. "You need to relax, Elizabeth, I mean it. You're being to hard on her."
"Well, of course you wouldn't feel this way," I said without thinking. "She's my daughter. I have to protect her."
"You mean she's not my daughter? Really, Betty, I think it's a little late in the game to be playing this game."
"I didn't mean--I forbade her to see him, so it'll be fine," I said, trying to reconcile without explaining my motherly protectiveness. "Come to bed."
Dante walked over to the door without looking back. "I think I'll sleep on the couch. After all, this is your bedroom, in your house."
I heard Dante's feet on the stairs as I lay in bed, fuming. I tried to justify my words: they were said in haste, I couldn't help it, it was my maternal instinct kicking in. But the truth ate at me: I had hurt Dante in one of the deepest ways possible.
The next morning...
We hadn't spoken to each other all morning. My guilt had manifested itself as defensiveness and he had retreated into a gruff exterior to protect his vulnerability. When all the children had gone off to school, I went out to the car to find Dante preparing for work.
"Where are you headed?" he asked casually, not meeting my gaze.
"I'm going to look in on Lady Thornycroft. Grant says he's not doing well and could use some company."
"Should we talk about last night?" Dante asked after an awkward pause.
I stiffened. "I don't have time right now, and neither do you. You'd better get to work."
"Fine," said Dante.
I smiled coldly. "Fine. I'm serving fish for dinner tonight," I reminded him.
"I'll get a bottle of white wine."
And for the first time in fifteen years, we parted without kissing goodbye.
Meanwhile...
That day at the Giorelli household started with a crash.
Angela and Giovanni rushed into the kitchen to find their niece on the floor, retching onto the stone tile. A plate containing a small pastry lay broken beside her. "Oh my God, what happened?" asked Angela.
Eva tried to talk, but only ended up vomiting again. Giovanni turned to his wife and shouted, "Phone a doctor. Now!"
Forty minutes later, Eva was resting in bed. Giovanni sat with her, brooding. The doctor had come and gone, declaring that Eva had food poisoning and would recover soon enough.
Giovanni sat by her bedside, praying constantly. He prayed for her recovery, yes. But mostly, he prayed that she would forgive his clumsiness.
You see, what Angela didn't know while she cleaned up the broken plate and ruined pastry was that the pastry was meant to be her breakfast...
...not Eva's.
Glamily:
O.o i knew they would kiss! Also I sorta gathered about the last part.. :D
Navigation
[0] Message Index
[#] Next page
[*] Previous page