Chapter 1 - Table 7
“Table 7 is here.”
Three words were enough to silence the entire kitchen at Il Canto.
The chef stopped yelling.
A dishwasher froze with two plates in his hands.
Even Marco, the manager, dropped his voice.
“Who’s taking it?”
Chloe Bennett reached for her tray.
“I am.”
Marco stared at her.
“You’ve been working for eleven hours.”
“I noticed.”
“And Costello brought his family tonight.”
Chloe straightened her apron.
“Family still has to eat.”
Marco caught her lightly by the arm.
“Chloe.”
She looked at him.
“Don’t get smart in there.”
“I’m never smart.”
“You get smart when you’re nervous.”
“Then pray I’m relaxed.”
She pushed through the kitchen doors before he could stop her.
Beyond the heavy mahogany doors of the private dining room sat Gabriel Costello.
Six men in tailored suits surrounded him.
Gabriel occupied the head of the table without needing to say a word about who was in charge.
At thirty-nine, he was broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and carried the worn expression of a man who trusted almost no one.
Beside him sat an elderly woman.
Small.
White-haired.
Pearls resting neatly around her neck.
Gabriel’s mother.
Beatrice.
Chloe stepped quietly around the table and began pouring water.
“Shipment arrives at midnight,” one of the men said.
Gabriel opened a folder.
“Any problems?”
“The union representative complained.”
Gabriel looked up.
“And?”
The man barely smiled.
“He stopped complaining.”
Chloe kept moving.
Then Beatrice lifted her hands.
Chloe nearly spilled the water.
ASL.
Where is the bread?
Gabriel wasn’t looking at her.
Beatrice tapped the table to get his attention.
Gabriel glanced over.
“Not now, Ma.”
Beatrice signed again.
I don’t want bread now.
I want wine.
Gabriel nodded impatiently.
“Bread’s coming.”
Chloe stared at him.
He had no idea what she was saying.
His own mother.
Dinner continued.
A few minutes later, as Chloe collected the appetizer plates, Beatrice tried again.
I hate the veal.
I want seafood risotto.
Gabriel exhaled.
“Ma, please.”
Then he turned to Chloe.
“She’ll have the veal.”
Beatrice slowly lowered her hands.
The expression on her face hit Chloe harder than she expected.
She had seen that look before.
On Leo.
Her younger brother.
He had worn the same expression at school.
At restaurants.
At family gatherings.
Anywhere hearing people decided that understanding him required too much effort.
Leo had been deaf.
Chloe had learned ASL before she learned long division.
Then, two years ago, a drunk driver killed him.
Chloe hadn’t signed since.
Not once.
Gabriel noticed her standing still.
“Is there a problem?”
Five men turned toward her.
Chloe felt her heartbeat slam against her ribs.
She had seventy dollars in her bank account.
Rent was due.
This was the moment to walk away.
Instead, Chloe set the plates down.
She stepped closer to Beatrice.
Then she raised her hands.
Hello.
Beatrice’s eyes widened.
My name is Chloe.
The older woman stared at her.
Chloe’s fingers trembled slightly.
The veal really is terrible.
You made the right choice.
Beatrice’s mouth opened in surprise.
Then she smiled.
You know sign language?
My brother was deaf.
A chair scraped against the floor behind Chloe.
“What are you doing?”
Gabriel.
Chloe kept signing.
Beatrice answered immediately.
Seafood risotto.
And wine.
Red.
Gabriel stood.
“I asked you a question.”
His hand closed around Chloe’s shoulder.
Chloe finally turned toward him.
“She doesn’t want the veal.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“She wants seafood risotto.”
The room went silent.
“And she asked for wine twenty minutes ago.”
Chloe held his gaze.
“You kept ordering bread.”
Every man at the table suddenly became very interested in not breathing.
Gabriel’s expression hardened.
“You understood all of that?”
“Yes.”
His hand was still on her shoulder.
Chloe looked down at it.
Then back at him.
“If you’re planning to break my collarbone, could you wait until after I put in her order?”
She paused.
“The kitchen closes soon.”
One of Gabriel’s lieutenants made a strangled sound that was dangerously close to a laugh.
Beatrice slapped Gabriel’s arm.
He released Chloe immediately.
His mother began signing rapidly.
Chloe watched her hands.
Then she looked at Gabriel.
“She says your manners are atrocious.”
Someone at the table coughed.
Beatrice kept signing.
Chloe’s expression changed.
“And she wants you to stop treating her like she’s stupid just because she’s deaf.”
Gabriel’s face shifted.
Barely.
But Chloe caught it.
For the first time that evening, he truly looked at his mother.
Beatrice looked away.
“Risotto,” Gabriel said.
Chloe blinked.
“What?”
“Bring her the seafood risotto.”
His eyes moved toward his mother’s empty wineglass.
“And Barolo.”
Chloe turned back to Beatrice and signed the order.
The older woman’s entire face brightened.
She reached out and caught Chloe gently by the wrist.
Thank you.
Then Beatrice added something else.
My son is an idiot.
But he tips well.
Chloe laughed before she could stop herself.
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Translate.”
Beatrice immediately shook her head.
Hard.
Chloe picked up the plates.
“Sorry.”
She gave Gabriel a small smile.
“Confidential communication.”
Then she walked out of the room.
For the first time in years, someone at Gabriel Costello’s table laughed.
May you like
It was Beatrice.
And Gabriel remained completely still, staring at his mother’s hands as if he had just realized they held an entire world he had never bothered to enter.
