Chapter 4 - THE SIGNATURE ON THE WRONG PAPER
“Whose signature was it supposed to be?”
Luca held the transaction summary in one hand.
Michael stared at the table.
“Evelyn's.”
Teresa looked confused.
“But I never owned the Addison house.”
“Not directly,” Michael said.
Luca flipped through the pages.
“The property's held by a trust.”
“Yes.”
“Mom is listed as the person whose consent is required before the house can be transferred.”
Michael nodded.
“And Evelyn has the right to live there?”
“For the rest of her life.”
“Then why is there a transfer agreement?”
Michael looked at Vanessa.
“Because someone decided those conditions were inconvenient.”
Vanessa's face flushed.
“Don't blame everything on me.”
“I wasn't going to,” Michael replied.
Luca put the paperwork down.
“You both have ten seconds to explain why my mother's name appears on something she never authorized.”
Vanessa moved toward him.
“Luca, the intention was to simplify the estate before our wedding.”
“Don't touch me.”
She stopped.
He had spoken without anger.
Somehow, that made it worse.
Michael sank into his chair.
“Carlo wanted the Addison property included in the redevelopment package. I told him it couldn't happen while Evelyn retained her lifetime rights.”
“And?”
“He said his attorneys could handle it.”
Luca looked at the papers.
“They couldn't handle it without Mom's consent.”
“No.”
“So someone tried to make it look as though she agreed.”
Michael was silent.
Teresa whispered, “You told me those were papers for my medical care.”
Every face turned toward her.
She stared at Michael.
“Last Sunday. You asked me to sign something about having help when I got older.”
Michael's eyes widened.
“Mom, I didn't ask you to sign anything.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No. I showed you a letter from Dad. I asked whether you'd be willing to speak to Evelyn.”
Teresa looked uncertain.
Then her expression changed.
“Vanessa brought the papers.”
Vanessa stepped back.
“I brought information about assisted living.”
“Assisted living?” Luca repeated.
Teresa lowered her eyes.
“She said it was only a possibility.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“Did you plan to send my mother away?”
Vanessa looked suddenly exhausted.
“I planned to discuss it.”
“With her son?”
“With you, eventually.”
He stared at her.
“Eventually.”
She swallowed.
“Your mother has become increasingly dependent on Hannah. I thought she might benefit from a place with professional support.”
I felt heat rise in my face.
Teresa was seventy-eight, but she still read two newspapers every morning, remembered every family birthday, and insisted on watering her own roses.
She needed kindness.
Not removal.
“Mrs. Moretti doesn't need someone to decide where she belongs,” I said.
Vanessa turned.
“Nobody asked you.”
Luca looked at me.
“I did.”
For the first time since I'd started working in that house, I didn't lower my eyes.
“Your mother was frightened because people kept speaking about her future as though she wasn't in the room.”
Teresa squeezed my hand.
“That's exactly how it felt.”
Luca looked toward Vanessa.
Something in his expression closed.
“Our engagement is on hold.”
Her lips parted.
“You can't be serious.”
“I am.”
“Because of a misunderstanding?”
“Because you used my mother's fear to get what you wanted.”
Vanessa looked at the abandoned dinner table.
At the flowers.
At the engagement decorations she'd chosen herself.
Then her voice broke.
“You promised me we'd build a life together.”
“We were supposed to build it together,” Luca replied. “Not by taking away someone else's.”
She turned and walked out.
Michael started after her.
Luca stopped him.
“You're coming with us tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“West Addison.”
Michael nodded slowly.
“I'll come.”
Then Teresa caught Luca's sleeve.
“Take Hannah.”
I looked at her.
“Mrs. Moretti—”
“Please, sweetheart.”
Luca studied me.
“If you're willing.”
I thought about my mother.
About the payments due next week.
About the possibility of being pulled deeper into problems I didn't understand.
But I also thought about Teresa sitting alone on that narrow daybed.
“I'll come,” I said.
The next morning, Chicago was covered in low gray clouds.
Luca drove himself.
Michael sat beside him.
Teresa and I occupied the back seat.
Nobody spoke much during the drive.
At a red light, Teresa took something from her handbag.
A silver wristwatch.
Its leather strap was cracked, and the face had stopped at 8:17.
“Your father's,” she told Luca.
He glanced in the rearview mirror.
“I remember.”
“He wore it the night Daniel got hurt.”
Michael turned.
“Mom, why did you bring that?”
“Because Evelyn fixed the strap after he broke it.”
She ran her thumb over the watch.
“He stopped wearing it afterward.”
I wondered what had happened at 8:17.
And why Teresa had kept a broken watch for nearly three decades.
The house on West Addison was smaller than I expected.
Red brick.
White porch railing.
Yellow roses along the front path.
It looked like the sort of house where somebody would leave a porch light on for a late-arriving family member.
Luca parked.
Then he stared through the windshield.
“I remember this place.”
Teresa smiled sadly.
“You learned to ride a bicycle here.”
“And Dad painted the porch blue.”
“It was blue for years.”
Michael looked toward the front windows.
“She knows we're coming.”
Luca turned.
“You told her?”
“She needed time.”
Before Luca could respond, the front door opened.
An elderly woman stepped onto the porch.
Silver hair.
Brown eyes.
The same woman from the photograph.
Evelyn Ward.
She leaned against the railing.
Then she saw Teresa.
The two women looked at each other for a long moment.
Finally, Evelyn opened her arms.
Teresa climbed the steps and embraced her.
Neither spoke.
Luca watched, bewildered.
Michael stared at the ground.
Evelyn eventually released Teresa.
Then she turned to Luca.
“You look so much like your father.”
“I've heard that.”
Her eyes filled.
“You were a good boy.”
He frowned.
“You knew me?”
“Oh, Luca.”
She reached toward him.
“You came here every Sunday for almost a year.”
He stepped back.
“That's impossible.”
Evelyn's expression softened.
“You brought Daniel comic books. You helped him practice reading. You sat on the porch when he was too frightened to sleep.”
Luca shook his head.
“I don't remember that.”
“Your father told you to forget.”
Michael whispered, “Evelyn.”
She turned sharply.
“No more.”
Then she invited us inside.
The house smelled of cinnamon and old wood.
Family photographs covered the hallway.
And on a small table beside the staircase sat a blue wooden box.
Evelyn picked it up.
“Daniel asked me to give you this if you ever returned.”
She handed it to Luca.
Inside were comic books, a toy car, and several folded letters.
All addressed to him.
But beneath them lay something that made Michael sit down.
A photograph of their father standing beside Carlo Bellini.
Carlo was holding Daniel's arm.
Daniel was crying.
On the back, in their father's handwriting, were seven words.
The night Carlo threatened to take Daniel.
Luca looked at Michael.
“Take him where?”
Michael covered his face.
May you like
And Evelyn answered.
“Back to the people who believed Daniel belonged to them.”
