Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THE GLASS
The woman Isabella Romano met on Snyder Avenue was wearing Lorenzo Belucci's mother's wedding ring.
Marco Vitali recognized it before he recognized her face.
He had seen that ring at Christmas dinners, funeral masses, and Sunday lunches for nearly twenty years. Three small diamonds surrounded a square emerald, and the gold band had a distinctive bend where Seraphina Belucci had caught it in a kitchen drawer years earlier.
Now it rested on the hand of a stranger standing behind the glass door of a narrow South Philadelphia storefront.
Marco lowered his camera.
"What the hell?"
At 2:47 p.m., Isabella stepped inside.
The sign above the storefront read Bellamy Watch & Clock Repair. Its faded gold lettering suggested a business that had survived several generations without attracting much attention.
Marco took three photographs through the front window.
The woman inside was perhaps sixty, with silver-blond hair pinned behind her head. She wore a plain gray cardigan and dark slacks.
Isabella stood across the counter from her.
Neither woman smiled.
Then the stranger placed a folded white envelope on the counter.
Isabella shook her head.
The older woman pushed it toward her again.
Through the glass, Marco saw Isabella say something that made the stranger recoil.
Then Isabella pointed toward the emerald ring.
The woman removed it.
Marco raised his camera just as she placed the ring inside the envelope.
Seven minutes later, Isabella left without buying anything.
The older woman remained in the shop, one hand pressed against her mouth.
Marco followed Isabella's town car north.
At 3:18, he was standing in Lorenzo's study.
"She never went to the atelier," Marco said.
Lorenzo examined the photographs without speaking.
The first showed Isabella entering the shop.
The second showed the older woman sliding the envelope across the counter.
The third showed the ring.
Lorenzo stopped breathing for a moment.
"Where did she get that?"
"You recognize it?"
"My father gave it to my mother on their twentieth anniversary."
"Could it be a duplicate?"
Lorenzo shook his head.
"My mother bent that ring herself. She refused to have it repaired."
He turned the photograph toward the green lamp.
"And she told me she lost it fourteen years ago."
Marco remained silent.
Lorenzo looked up.
"Find out who the woman is. Quietly."
"I already started."
"Good."
"And Lorenzo?"
Something in Marco's voice made him pause.
"The shop isn't registered to Bellamy anymore. The current owner's name is Margaret Ellis."
Lorenzo looked again at the photograph.
He knew that name.
Not from business.
From an argument he had overheard between his parents when he was seventeen.
His father had shouted it across the dining room.
His mother had answered with one sentence.
Margaret Ellis buried more of our mistakes than you ever will.
Until that afternoon, Lorenzo had assumed Margaret was some forgotten family acquaintance.
Now he wasn't so sure.
Anna Carter was tying climbing roses against the greenhouse wall when Isabella returned.
Sophie sat nearby, drawing on a wooden bench.
"Anna."
The sound of Isabella's voice made her turn.
"Miss Romano."
Isabella wore the same cream blouse she had left in that morning. Her expression was composed, but she kept twisting the engagement ring on her finger.
"I understand your daughter has been spending time with Lorenzo."
Anna straightened.
"Mr. Belucci spoke to her yesterday. She didn't ask him to."
"I wasn't suggesting she did."
Isabella glanced at Sophie.
The little girl continued drawing.
"Children can misunderstand what they see," Isabella said.
"Of course."
"And sometimes adults encourage them without realizing it."
Anna's face tightened.
"Are you saying I coached my daughter?"
"I'm saying this household is under tremendous pressure. Lorenzo hasn't slept properly. His mother worries constantly. The last thing anyone needs is a child inventing frightening stories."
Anna removed her gardening gloves.
"My daughter didn't invent anything."
Isabella's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Anna noticed.
"She saw something unusual," Anna continued. "And Mr. Belucci thanked her for mentioning it."
"Did he tell you what he found?"
"No."
"Then perhaps you should stop pretending you understand what's happening."
The words landed harder than Isabella seemed to intend.
For a moment, the fiancée looked almost embarrassed.
Then Sophie raised her head.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Why is the lady scared of my picture?"
Both women turned.
Sophie held up the drawing from yesterday.
The tall man in the dark coat stood beside the woman and child.
But she had added something.
Around the man's neck was a chain of yellow circles.
At the bottom hung a green stone.
Isabella stared at it.
"Where did you see that necklace?"
Sophie blinked.
"It's not a necklace."
"Then what is it?"
"A key."
Anna stepped between them.
"That's enough."
Isabella took a breath.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten her."
But she was looking at the drawing as though it were something she had spent years trying to forget.
At 5:30, Lorenzo found his mother in the small chapel beside the east wing.
Seraphina was arranging fresh flowers beneath a statue of the Virgin Mary.
She had worn black since her husband's death, although she brightened it with pearls or a colored scarf when family visited.
"Mother."
She glanced back.
"You sound like your father when someone has disappointed him."
Lorenzo approached.
"Do you remember Margaret Ellis?"
The flower slipped from Seraphina's fingers.
It struck the stone floor.
She did not bend to retrieve it.
"Why?"
"Isabella visited her today."
Seraphina slowly sat in the nearest pew.
"Where?"
"South Philadelphia."
"Did Margaret ask for me?"
"No."
His mother closed her eyes.
Lorenzo waited.
Finally, she said, "Margaret was once my closest friend."
"Then why have you never mentioned her?"
"Because friendship doesn't survive every kind of mistake."
"What mistake?"
Seraphina studied her hands.
"I made a promise many years ago. I thought keeping it would protect my family."
"From what?"
She looked at him.
"From your father's enemies."
Lorenzo sat beside her.
"Did you give Margaret your wedding ring?"
His mother's expression hardened.
"Who showed you that?"
"I have photographs."
For the first time in years, Seraphina looked frightened of her own son.
"Leave Margaret alone, Lorenzo."
"Mother—"
"That woman has already paid enough for what happened."
"What happened?"
Seraphina reached into her coat pocket.
She removed a small silver rosary with a broken clasp.
Lorenzo recognized it immediately.
His father had carried it in his breast pocket every Sunday.
"I found this beneath your father's pillow the morning he died," she said.
"Why are you showing me?"
"Because he wasn't praying for himself."
She placed the rosary in Lorenzo's palm.
"He was praying for someone we abandoned."
Dinner was unusually quiet.
Isabella wore the disarmed pearls with a black silk dress.
She was beautiful.
Lorenzo could no longer look at her without imagining the fourth pearl flashing red.
His mother refused wine.
Anna served the table only because Rosa was supervising final preparations for the gala.
Sophie remained upstairs with her supper and crayons.
Lorenzo waited until the staff had finished serving.
Then he addressed Isabella.
"How was your fitting?"
She lifted her glass.
"Exhausting. The seamstress keeps making the veil too short."
"Which seamstress?"
"Mrs. Laurent."
"At the Rittenhouse atelier?"
"Yes."
Lorenzo set down his fork.
"Interesting."
Isabella looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because Mrs. Laurent called this afternoon. She said you missed your appointment."
The room became still.
Isabella lowered her glass.
"I changed my plans."
"To Snyder Avenue?"
Seraphina's chair scraped against the floor.
Isabella glanced toward her.
Then she turned back to Lorenzo.
"How long have you been following me?"
"Long enough to know you've been lying."
Her eyes filled with something that looked less like guilt than disappointment.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?"
"Tell me."
"You followed me because you think I'm dangerous."
"Shouldn't I?"
Isabella touched the pearls.
For one terrible second, Lorenzo imagined that her fingers had found the altered one.
Then she said, "I went to see Margaret because she has something that belongs to your mother."
Seraphina whispered, "Isabella, don't."
Lorenzo turned toward her.
"Mother?"
Isabella rose.
"No. I'm tired of being the only person at this table expected to keep promises."
She reached into her handbag and removed a worn photograph.
She placed it faceup beside Lorenzo's plate.
The picture showed Seraphina standing outside a hospital.
Beside her was Margaret Ellis.
Between them stood a young woman with chestnut hair, holding a newborn wrapped in a yellow blanket.
Lorenzo studied the photograph.
The woman looked familiar.
Then he saw the handwriting beneath it.
Anna Carter — November 14.
He looked up.
"Why is my gardener in a photograph with my mother?"
Isabella's voice broke.
"Because Anna isn't the woman you think she is."
May you like
And Seraphina, staring at the photograph, whispered something even worse.
"Isabella, that picture was supposed to have been destroyed."
