Chapter Fifteen
It’s a pity when you’re too sad to attend your own party.
Rachel threw her shoulders back, steeling herself for the party her sister had organized. It was the last thing she wanted to do, sit around and bash Marcello, not that he didn’t deserve it, but she’d rather lick her wounds alone. “Hey, guys.”
A chorus of hellos greeted her. The pity in all their eyes was almost enough to make her spin around and go right back to bed. Instead, she made her feet move forward.
Shelby stuck out a glass of wine, so Rachel accepted it and, like a zombie, walked to the couch and sat down. “Thank you all for coming, but—”
“Here. This will help.” A brownie on a napkin appeared under her nose.
She glanced up and tried to smile at Jo. She was eight months pregnant and really showing since the last time Rachel had seen her. “Thank you. How are you feeling?”
Jo flopped beside her. “Like a cow with constant indigestion. And I can’t for the life of me understand why Chad thinks I look sexy like this.”
Lori sat on Rachel’s other side. “It’s a caveman thing about being virile, I think.”
Marcello had told her she looked lovelier than ever when he’d seen her right before the twins had been born.
And how was it possible that a memory of being pregnant with twins could suddenly make her even sadder? She took a bite of her brownie and closed her eyes. The intense chocolate gooeyness was just what she needed to distract her brain from thinking.
She finished her treat off in three bites and then asked, “Where’s Mom and Ally?”
Lori took Rachel’s hand. “They’re putting the kids down. Want to talk about it?”
“No. What I want is another brownie.”
Jo laughed. “Who needs men when you can have brownies, right? I brought you some Death by Chocolate cake too because I know it’s your favorite.” Jo handed over a plate filled with layers of cake and frosting. It brought different kinds of tears to Rachel’s eyes. It was nice to have people who cared enough to just sit and watch her eat chocolate, rather than make her talk about her feelings. And it was damn good cake.
Shelby hopped up and passed cake all around. Then she filled Rachel’s glass of wine again. “We’ll just keep plying you with this. Then you’ll talk.”
“That’s for sure.” Lori laughed. “Rachel’s a lightweight, so it doesn’t take much for her to get all jiggy with it.”
After Rachel’s glass of wine had been refilled three times in less than an hour, Ally and her mom finally joined them. Words fueled by wine flowed freely now, so she said, “Thank you for putting the kids down. Have some cake, Ally, and I’ll tell you all the reasons to never get serious about a man.”
“Whoa there, drunk Oprah.” Lori covered Ally’s ears. “Let’s not ruin the journey for her, huh?”
Right. That would probably be a bad thing.
After Lori removed her hands, Rachel said, “Sorry, Ally. All of them are madly in love with their husbands, so you might be better off listening to them instead of me.”
Jo winked at Ally. “Men aren’t all bad. There are a few good ones out there.”
Rachel nodded. “Yeah, her husband, Chad, is a great guy. Maybe I need a rebound fling. With a football player like Chad. He have any hot single friends, Jo?”
Shelby said, “I think we should talk about rebound men tomorrow when everyone is sober.”
“I think we should talk about it now.” Rachel held her plate out for more cake. Miraculously, another slice appeared. “Because by the morning, I have to be all healed and ready to face the day. I have a job to do. And kids to watch. And a house to run, and clients to make happy. And a heart to mend. Gotta bury it all under the rug and move on.” She turned to Ally. “It’s what I’m best at. Moving on, I mean. Ask all the guys I’ve dated. Well, except for Marcello.”
Ally just nodded and ate her cake.
She shouldn’t have said that to Ally either. Poor kid was hurting just as much as she was. Maybe she should just go pass out in bed. Or learn to hold her liquor better.
Her mom said, “What about your friend Trent? You seem to like to talk to him.”
Rachel stuffed a big bite of cake into her mouth. “He’s great, but I’m not attracted to Trent like that.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Her mom beamed her patient smile. The one she used when she was frustrated but didn’t want to show it. Or maybe when talking to a drunk daughter. “I meant maybe you should go see Trent to talk about Marcello. It’s not good to sweep things under the rug, honey. It’s not healthy. You seem to be able to open up with him easier than you do with anyone else.”
“Right? It’s so weird.” Rachel pointed her fork at her mom. “He just has this way of making me feel like it’s okay not to be perfect.” She stuck the fork in her mouth and licked the last of the frosting off it.
In unison, everyone but Ally said, “It is okay!”
“I know. I’m trying.” Rachel set her empty plate on the coffee table. “It’s really not the failing in my relationship with Marcello that’s bothering me. It’s that I’m so mad at him, madder than I’ve ever been at anyone before, but I can’t hate him. Believe me, I’ve tried all day long.”
Her mom said, “I’ve never known you to truly hate anyone, sweetheart.”
“But I should hate him for what he’s done, Mom. And for leaving his kids behind without a second thought too. A normal person would want to make him pay. Never want to see him or speak to him again. And wish a pox on his private parts.”
She dropped her head into her hands. “But the thing is, I don’t feel any of that. I’m angry, sure, but mostly I’m just really, really . . . hurt. And afraid. Afraid I’ll never be able to stop loving him. For the rest of my life, I’m scared I’ll have this gaping empty hole in my heart that will never heal. And how does a person ever find love again with only half a heart?” When she looked up, they all had tears in their eyes.
“I’m sorry.” She waved her hand. “It’s the wine. I didn’t—”
“Stop.” Lori wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t make excuses. We know how hard that was for you to tell us that. God, next thing you know, you’re going to say you love us!”
“Nah. I’m not that drunk.”
Pillows bombarded her from all sides. “Okay, uncle! I promise to go see Trent. He doesn’t get so violent.” She stood and drained her wineglass. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up, guys. I’m going to bed now.”
She headed for the hallway, and after all the goodnights had died down behind her, she glanced over her shoulder. “Just for the record, I do love all of you.”
She left them slack-jawed.
Oddly, that hadn’t been nearly as hard to say as it had been before. As Judy had pointed out in the kitchen a few weeks ago, maybe being brave enough to tell people she loved them was what she was supposed to learn from trying and failing with Marcello. That and the gift of loving her kids unconditionally maybe, because she couldn’t see anything else good that loving Marcello had brought her.
Marcello followed an older woman down the darkened hallway of the judge’s house. Gina stayed one step behind. Dread mixed with Gina’s earlier doubts swirled in his head. The methodical ticking of a grandfather clock counted down the last seconds before his life changed forever.
Would the judge believe his story like Gina had?
The woman opened a door that led to a study and held out a hand. “Have a seat, please. The judge will be with you in a moment.”
Marcello let Gina go in first and then sat beside her in one of the two chairs in front of a massive wooden desk. Drawing a full breath in the dusty room filled with large books became difficult when his heart threatened to pound right out of his chest.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a man in his late fifties and built like a linebacker walked in and sat behind the desk. He paged through a file and without looking up said, “You may leave Ms. Vicenti.”
Gina frowned. “But I haven’t booked the prisoner yet, sir.”
“I’m aware.” The judge took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You’ve done your job, so you may go home now.”
Panic filled Marcello. Gina was his only ally. He didn’t want to lose her.
She took out a card and scribbled something before handing it to him. Then she patted his arm and stood. “Thank you, sir.” The door closed behind Gina with a loud click.
The card in his hand had a name and a phone number. Must be the lawyer.
The judge leaned forward and held out his hand. “I’ll take that.”
Cold fear filled his gut as he slowly handed the card over. Wouldn’t he be allowed a fair trial at least? Why hadn’t he memorized the number?
The judge read the card, and then tossed it on the desk. “So, Lorenzo, or should I call you Marcello Romano now? What shall we do with you? An escaped prisoner who tried to kill his mother in a fit of rage, damaging her brain so badly that she’s forever a child. And now I can add a kidnapping charge, because your father can’t seem to find her. What punishment would be harsh enough for a man who could do such things?”
Marcello fought with all his might to remain calm. He pointed to the card. “I’d like to call that lawyer, please.”
“Not so fast.” The judge held up a hand. “I asked you a question. Please answer.”
The door opened again, and hairs stood up on the back of Marcello’s neck. He’d never forget the heavy gait of those footsteps coming into his room and dragging him from his bed at night for a beating.
Gina had been right. Things weren’t making sense.
The judge smiled. “Look, it’s your papa. Come join us, Lorenzo. Your son was just about to tell me what he thinks is fair punishment for his crimes.”
His father sat in the chair Gina had just occupied, but Marcello refused to look at him. Marcello said, “Stop with the games. Why am I here?”
“Games?” The judge’s expression hardened. “The charges against you are no joke, Mr. Romano.”
Marcello’s jaw hurt from clenching it. But he’d say nothing about any charges without a lawyer. He crossed his arms and stared back at the judge, waiting him out.
His father finally broke the silence. “Show some respect. The judge holds your fate in his hands.”
“And what is my fate to be?” Whatever the answer, it couldn’t be good. But why toy with him? Why not have Gina arrest him and throw away the key?
The judge leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands over his large belly. “This town is in need of something you can provide. For a trade, I might consider dropping the charges and declaring the event an honest accident.”
“It wasn’t an accident. My father tried to kill my mother. And said he’d kill me if I didn’t confess to the crime. I simply saved you the embarrassment of putting an innocent man behind bars.”
His father laughed. “See what a fine actor my son is, Roberto? It’s no wonder he won that big award for telling lies for a living.”
“Yes, very convincing.” The judge leaned closer. “Do you want to hear my proposition, or would you like for me to hold up your trial for many years to come, Mr. Innocent?”
Even with Gina’s help, the man probably could drag the trial out. Maybe he should placate him. “I’d like very much to go home. So please, what are you offering to trade for my freedom?”
“That’s a better attitude.” The judge nodded his approval. “Your father still employs almost half the town in his textile factory. If that were to close, this town would die. Your father and I think ten million American dollars would allow him to make the necessary equipment upgrades to stay in business. You could call it a business transaction with your fine papa if anyone should ask.”
More blackmail? Would it never end?
Rachel had just cleaned up Ian after breakfast when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen as she scrubbed Hannah’s face and hands. It was Trent. Luckily, help arrived just in time to take over. “Good morning, Ally. They woke up early today. Can you finish up for me here while I get that?”
“Sure.” Ally grabbed a washcloth and started right in. “Sorry I didn’t hear them.”
“No worries. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” She snatched up her phone. “I’ll help you dress them as soon as I’m done.” She poked the green button. “Hi, Trent.”
“Hi. I saw the news. I’d come bearing doughnuts if you’d like to talk.”
She’d promised everyone at the pity party that she’d see Trent, so why not get a free treat in the process? “No early appointments today?”
“I’m not a Monday person. I never schedule anyone until after lunch that day.”
And yet, he was calling at six thirty and offering to help her before work. “Thank you. I’d appreciate your advice.”
She gave him her address and then hung up and headed for her room to put some clothes on. She stopped in the nursery to see if Ally needed any help first, but she had Hannah dressed and on her mat on the floor playing with the puppies. Ian was almost ready too.
“Wow. That has to be a clothes wrestling record. I’m going to meet with a friend in a few minutes. He’s bringing us doughnuts.”
“Awesome.” Ally smiled weakly as she pulled Ian’s shirt over his little belly.
“Hey, I’m sorry about last night. I know you love Marcello. I shouldn’t have talked like that. I was just feeling sorry for myself.”
“That’s okay. But it still makes no sense to me that he’d do that. He told me you were the only woman he’d ever loved.” She swiped up Ian and tucked him onto her hip. Ally had become a pro with the kids, and they loved her.
“Apparently, he’d forgotten about that other woman he loved more. I’d better go get dressed before Trent gets here.” She didn’t want to start crying again. She’d cried a lifetime of tears the past two days. Time to suck it up and move on.
“Hey, Rachel? If you don’t want me here anymore, I’d get it.” She shrugged. “Just say the word, and I’m out.”
Rachel started to protest, but then stopped. Maybe Ally had only been helping because of Marcello. “The kids and I love having you here. But we’d understand if you wanted to go home.”
“Oh.” Ally plopped Ian down next to his sister. “So, we’re good?”
“Yes.” Rachel crossed the room and gave Ally a quick hug. “We’re excellent as far as I’m concerned.”
“Cool.” Ally smiled. “I hope your friend brings glazed.”
“This breakup is going to make me gain five pounds.” Rachel texted Ally’s request to Trent on the way to her room.
After getting ready for the day, Rachel was heading to her home office when the doorbell rang. That was fast.
She tugged the front door open and found Trent with one of the guards. “Oh, sorry, John. I forgot to tell you I was expecting a visitor. Come in, Trent.”
Trent offered a doughnut to the guard, who took one and then went back to his post. Trent closed the door behind him and handed her the box. “Wasn’t sure how upset you were, so I got two dozen.”
Rachel smiled. “Thank you. Come to the kitchen, and I’ll pour us some coffee to go with these.” She led the way, stopping to introduce Trent to Ally, the kids, and, of course, the puppies, who thought everyone who visited was there to see them. She opened the box for Ally to choose her doughnuts.
Trent got down on the floor and made Nala’s and Simba’s day by wrestling with them. And then the kids crawled over to join the fun while Ally ate her breakfast.
It should be Marcello playing with them like that.
Before she got emotional again, she went to the kitchen to make some more coffee.
Trent finally joined her and sat down at the table in the nook across from her. “Thanks for the caffeine.” He took a long drink and then huffed out a breath. “So, how are you?”
She shook her head. “Hurt to the core. To the point that I don’t want to ever date seriously again. I basically got an email ending things, and then Marcello disconnected his phone. I can’t even find closure because he totally ghosted me. I’d just like to know what changed. Or if I did something to make him leave.” She handed over her phone to show him the email.
Trent frowned as he read it. “This sounds like he got cold feet. Do you know who that woman is who’s with him in all the pictures?”
“No idea.” She took a long pull from her mug. “And Ally had never heard of her or seen her, and she pretty much knows everything about his life. But then, Ally hadn’t known about me either, so maybe it’s a pattern. And he’s done this before.”
Trent’s frown deepened as he chewed his chocolate doughnut. “Didn’t you tell me at the restaurant that he said he could never go back to Italy?”
“Yeah. He said he was a wanted man, and he hadn’t even been back to see his ill mother in twenty years because of it. Why?”
Trent laid his doughnut down and leaned closer. “You haven’t been on the net today? He’s in Florence.”
“No. That can’t be true.” She grabbed her phone and opened her browser. She quickly found the pictures of Marcello and the same woman rushing through the Florence airport. He looked like death warmed over. “This makes even less sense. I saw the fear in his eyes when he talked about getting caught.”
Ally poked her head inside the kitchen. “Hey, Rachel? Sorry to interrupt. You just got an email in your business account I think you should see. It’s from Wilma Drake.”
“The Wilma Drake? The Broadway actress with, like, fifteen Emmys, Wilma Drake?”
Ally nodded. “The subject line just said Marcello. He’s been friends with her since I’ve known him. I didn’t open it this time.”
“Thank you.” Rachel quickly switched email accounts and scanned the list until she found it.
Dear Rachel,
I apologize for using your business email, but I didn’t have any other way to contact you. You don’t know me, but I helped Marcello when he first came to this country. You’re probably very angry with him, but I think all isn’t as it appears to be. He loves you and his children more than anything else.
I don’t use my computer often anymore, but I did today, and when I saw the headlines, I knew something was very wrong. He’d never go to Italy unless he was forced to. Can we please talk at your earliest convenience? I think Marcello desperately needs our help.
Warmest Regards,
Wilma Drake
All isn’t as it appears to be? He’d never go to Italy unless he was forced? Could there be a reasonable explanation for why Marcello had crushed her soul?
She replied to the email with her cell number and then laid the phone down. Hopefully, Marcello hadn’t broken Wilma’s heart too. It’d take something awfully big for Rachel to want to help Marcello after what he’d done to her and the kids.
Trent said, “So? What’s up?”
“Wilma is the actor who helped Marcello when he first came here. She thinks something is wrong that he’d be in Italy too.”
“So maybe before we hate on Marcello, we should see what she has to say?” Trent sat back and took a long drink from his mug.
“Maybe. But now my curiosity has kicked in. I’m thinking a little electronic snooping might be in order. Let’s go to the den. Ally doesn’t know about Marcello’s crime and Italy, so let’s be careful what we say about that.”
“Intrigue. I’m all for that on a Monday morning.” Trent grabbed another doughnut and followed behind.
After they walked into the den, Rachel sat on the blanket with the kids. Trent sat cross legged on the floor and played with the puppies again.
Ally asked, “What did Wilma want?”
Rachel scooped up both kids and placed them in her lap. “She’s concerned about Marcello’s behavior too. Remember that post you were worried about in my business email the other day?”
“Yeah. It was more creepy than threatening, but Marcello said to get rid of it when I called him Saturday morning. I forwarded it to a file where I keep suspicious emails.” Ally pulled out her cell and tapped a few buttons. “It’s from Lorenzo Bianchi. He just says he looked forward to meeting you and giving the twins a hug very soon.”
Rachel’s stomach dropped. That was Marcello’s father. She’d never forget that name because Marcello said it was his given name too. That must mean his father had figured out who Marcello is now. “Can you trace where that email came from, Ally?”
“Not without better equipment. But I bet Deek could. I’ll forward it to him and ask.” Ally’s fingers flew across the screen at lightning speed.
“Thanks. And can you look at all of Marcello’s banking records?” Was his father that last mysterious person Marcello sent money to each month?
Ally’s head whipped up. “Yes, but . . . I don’t know if I should.”
Rachel’s cell rang. “Hang on. This might be Wilma. Maybe she can tell us what the heck is going on.”