Chapter 4 - What Elena Never Told Them
Sophia sat in the Moretti library with her grandmother's name pounding through her head.
Teresa Rossi had been dead for six years.
Sophia still remembered the smell of rosemary in her kitchen and the way she prayed in Sicilian when frightened.
She had never once mentioned Elena Moretti.
"Tell me everything," Sophia said.
Elena sat opposite her near the fireplace.
Dante stood behind his mother's chair, equally silent and visibly confused.
That told Sophia he had not heard the story either.
Elena held the Saint Rosalia medal between her fingers.
"I came to New York when I was nineteen."
"I had two dresses, twelve dollars, and a husband who believed pride could feed a family."
Dante lowered his eyes at the mention of his late father.
Elena continued.
"We lived in a building on Mulberry Street with heat that failed every winter."
"Teresa lived downstairs."
Sophia could almost see it.
Her grandmother young.
Elena young.
Two immigrant women surviving in cramped apartments before either family had money.
"She had just married your grandfather," Elena said.
"She worked mornings in a bakery and cleaned offices at night."
Sophia smiled faintly.
"That sounds like her."
"She complained every minute."
"That also sounds like her."
Elena smiled, but grief quickly returned.
"The winter Dante's older brother was born, I became very ill."
Sophia looked at Dante.
"You had a brother?"
His face closed.
"For three weeks."
The room went still.
Elena looked into the fire.
"Matteo was premature."
"I was sick after the birth."
"My husband was working nights, and we had no family here."
Her fingers tightened around the medal.
"Teresa found me unconscious on the kitchen floor."
Sophia's throat tightened.
"She carried Matteo downstairs and called an ambulance."
"Then she stayed with me every night for eleven days."
Elena looked at Sophia.
"Matteo did not survive."
Sophia reached across the space between them without thinking.
Elena took her hand.
"But I did."
Dante looked away toward the window.
Sophia realized there were parts of his family grief even he could not meet directly.
"Why didn't my grandmother ever tell me?"
Elena gave a sad little laugh.
"Because Teresa considered helping someone the least interesting thing about herself."
That was true enough to hurt.
"We lost touch after your grandparents moved to Queens," Elena said.
"Years passed."
"Our husbands changed."
"Money changed things."
"Then one day I heard Teresa had died."
Sophia swallowed.
"You knew my father too?"
Elena's expression tightened.
"As a boy."
"Not now?"
"I knew he had a daughter named Sophia."
Sophia pulled her hand away.
"And when I walked up to Table Nine, you recognized me?"
"No."
"Not at first."
Elena shook her head quickly.
"You look like your mother."
Sophia froze.
"You knew my mother?"
Elena closed her eyes.
Dante stepped forward.
"Mama, what is this?"
The question had an edge now.
Elena looked at him.
"Something I should have told you years ago."
Sophia's heart began to pound.
"Tell me."
Elena took a breath.
"Your mother, Maria, came to me twenty-three years ago."
Sophia's entire body went cold.
She had been eight then.
"Why?"
"Anthony was gambling."
Sophia almost laughed because of course he had been.
Even before her mother died.
Even before Sophia knew enough to understand what disappearing grocery money meant.
"She needed help."
"Did you give it to her?"
"Yes."
Sophia looked at Dante.
He seemed as stunned as she was.
"How much?"
Elena hesitated.
"Thirty thousand dollars."
Sophia stood.
"No."
"Sophia."
"My mother would never have taken that kind of money."
"She did not take it for herself."
Elena's voice hardened with memory.
"She paid Anthony's debt."
Sophia walked toward the fireplace because she suddenly could not sit still.
Forty thousand now.
Thirty thousand then.
Twenty-five thousand forged in her name.
Her father's life had been a circle that swallowed everyone around him.
"Did he know where the money came from?"
"Yes."
Sophia turned.
"Then why did he act like he had never heard of the Morettis?"
Elena looked at Dante.
"Because your father and Dante's father made an agreement."
Dante's face sharpened.
"What agreement?"
Elena pressed her lips together.
"Anthony would stay away from Moretti clubs and Moretti money."
"In return, Lorenzo forgave what Anthony owed elsewhere."
Dante's voice dropped.
"My father handled Anthony Rossi's debts?"
"Once."
Elena looked at Sophia.
"At Maria's request."
Sophia felt anger rising again.
"And nobody thought I deserved to know any of this?"
"You were eight."
"I am thirty now."
Elena flinched.
Sophia immediately regretted the cruelty in her tone, but she could not pull it back.
"Why did my mother go to you instead of my grandmother?"
Elena's face changed.
"Because Teresa would have thrown Anthony into the street."
Despite everything, Sophia almost laughed.
"That sounds right."
Elena reached into the drawer of a side table.
She removed an old envelope.
The paper had yellowed at the edges.
"Maria gave me this after the debt was paid."
Sophia stared at her mother's handwriting on the front.
Elena Moretti.
Private.
Her hands began to tremble.
"Why do you still have it?"
"Because she asked me to keep it."
"Why?"
Elena handed it to her.
"Read it."
Sophia opened the envelope carefully.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Her mother's handwriting made something inside her chest ache.
Maria had been dead for twelve years.
Sophia had forgotten how the loops in her letters leaned to the right.
She read the first line.
Elena, if Anthony ever begins gambling again, do not save him twice.
Sophia had to stop.
Dante moved toward her.
She lifted one hand.
"Please."
He stopped.
Sophia continued reading silently.
Her mother wrote that Anthony loved his family but loved the escape of gambling in a way that made him dangerous to everyone who tried to rescue him.
She wrote that Sophia must never be made responsible for his choices.
She wrote that debt could become a chain if love kept paying it.
Then Sophia reached the final paragraph.
Her breath caught.
If something happens to me, Maria had written, promise me you will never let the Genoveses near my daughter.
Sophia looked up.
"Why did she write this?"
Elena's face turned white.
Dante took the letter from Sophia and read the line.
His eyes hardened.
"Mama."
Elena looked suddenly old.
"I hoped this part would never matter."
Sophia stepped closer.
"Why was my mother afraid of the Genovese family?"
Elena did not answer.
"Why?"
Dante's voice was sharper now.
"Tell her."
Elena looked at Sophia.
"Your mother did bookkeeping for a small import company before she became ill."
"One of its clients was Carlo Genovese."
Sophia felt a chill.
"What did she find?"
"I don't know exactly."
"She would not tell me."
"She only said she had seen payments that frightened her."
Dante read the letter again.
"Did my father know?"
Elena nodded reluctantly.
"Yes."
Dante's expression turned furious.
"And he still arranged my engagement to Carlo's daughter?"
"Your father believed whatever Maria knew had died with her."
Sophia stared at Elena.
"My mother died of cancer."
Elena stood.
"Yes."
The answer came too fast.
Sophia heard it.
So did Dante.
"Elena."
The older woman looked at her with tears in her eyes.
"Your mother was sick, Sophia."
"That is not what I asked."
Sophia's pulse thundered.
"Was her death only cancer?"
Before Elena could respond, Enzo entered the library without knocking.
His face was tight.
"Boss, we found the source of the account transfer."
Dante turned.
"Michael?"
Enzo shook his head.
"No."
"Then who?"
Enzo looked directly at Elena.
"The authorization came from Mrs. Moretti's private terminal."
Sophia stared at Elena.
May you like
Elena stared back.
And for the first time since Table Nine, Sophia wondered whether the woman she trusted most in the Moretti house had been lying to her from the beginning.
