Chapter 2 - THE NAME THAT BROUGHT AN OLD MAN TO HIS KNEES
“Your grandfather was supposed to be dead before you were born.”
Salvatore Gallo spoke so quietly that Nora almost missed the words.
She was still holding the two leather menus. Across the table, Dante watched his father with an expression she couldn't understand.
“What did you say?” Nora asked.
Salvatore's fingers tightened around his silver-handled cane.
“Pietro Rossi. From Prizzi. Was he missing two fingers on his left hand?”
Nora felt the blood drain from her face.
“Yes.”
“And did he have a scar beneath his right ear?”
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
Salvatore closed his eyes.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then he whispered something in Sicilian.
“God forgive me.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Papa, who is this man?”
His father opened his eyes but continued looking at Nora.
“Did Pietro ever speak about Sicily?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did he ever mention the Gallo family?”
“No.”
Salvatore gave a small, painful laugh.
“Of course he didn't.”
Nora was beginning to regret every word she'd spoken.
She wanted to return to her tables, collect her tips, and go home to the little apartment where her grandfather's photograph still sat beside an old kitchen clock.
Instead, she stood before two men who could change her life with a sentence.
“Mr. Gallo,” she said carefully, “I apologize for speaking disrespectfully. I should get back to work.”
“You speak exactly like him.”
Salvatore's voice trembled.
“Same stubborn mouth. Same eyes when you're angry.”
Dante rose.
“Papa, you're frightening her.”
“Then perhaps she should be frightened.”
The words turned the dining room cold.
Nora took one step backward.
Salvatore noticed.
“Not of me, child. Of what your grandfather never told you.”
Before Nora could answer, Paul appeared beside the table.
“Mr. Gallo, my deepest apologies. This employee has clearly overstepped. I'll remove her immediately.”
Dante looked at him.
“Did anyone ask you to speak?”
Paul froze.
“No, sir.”
“Then don't.”
Salvatore reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.
One bodyguard immediately moved closer.
The old man ignored him.
He withdrew a small silver pocket watch.
Its surface was scratched, and a fine crack crossed the glass.
Salvatore opened it.
Inside was a faded photograph of two young men standing before a stone farmhouse.
One was Salvatore, perhaps twenty-five years old.
The other was Nora's grandfather.
Young. Smiling. Whole.
Nora covered her mouth.
“I've never seen that picture.”
Salvatore turned the watch toward her.
“Your grandfather was my brother in everything except blood.”
Dante stared at the photograph.
“You told me Pietro Rossi betrayed you.”
“I did.”
“You said he stole from the family.”
Salvatore lowered his eyes.
“I know what I said.”
Nora suddenly understood why her grandfather had refused to discuss his life before America.
He had always said the same thing whenever she asked why he never went home.
“Some roads are safer when you don't walk backward.”
She had assumed he missed his village.
Now she wondered whether he had been hiding from it.
“Why would my grandfather steal from someone he loved?” she asked.
Salvatore didn't answer.
Instead, he closed the watch and placed it on the table.
“Because sometimes the people we call thieves are the people who refuse to become criminals.”
Dante's expression hardened.
“Explain that.”
“Not here.”
Salvatore looked toward the dining room.
Several guests quickly returned their attention to their plates.
“Bring the girl somewhere private.”
Nora immediately shook her head.
“No.”
Both men looked at her.
“I don't know you. I don't know what happened forty years ago. And I am not going into a private room with people whose bodyguards are carrying guns.”
For the first time that evening, Dante looked almost amused.
“You're right.”
Salvatore frowned.
“Dante—”
“No, Papa. She's right.”
He turned to Paul.
“Her shift is finished. Pay her for the entire evening.”
Nora bristled.
“I haven't agreed to leave.”
“Then stay,” Dante answered. “Your choice.”
That surprised her.
Men like Dante Gallo weren't supposed to offer choices.
Nora looked at Salvatore.
“What exactly do you want from me?”
The old man touched the pocket watch.
“One answer.”
“About what?”
“When Pietro died, did he leave you anything from Sicily?”
Nora hesitated.
Her grandfather had owned almost nothing when he died.
A few suits.
A battered suitcase.
An old rosary.
And a dark wool coat that smelled faintly of cedar and the peppermint candies he kept in its pockets.
“He left me his belongings.”
“Was there a coat?”
Nora stared.
“Yes.”
“Dark brown? With horn buttons?”
“Yes.”
Salvatore's breathing changed.
“Do you still have it?”
“I think so.”
His eyes filled with tears.
Dante leaned forward.
“Papa?”
Salvatore gripped the edge of the table.
“Then Pietro kept his promise.”
Before anyone could ask what he meant, the old man's face twisted.
His cane struck the floor.
Dante caught him as his knees buckled.
“Call an ambulance!”
Nora dropped the menus.
Salvatore was conscious, but his breathing was shallow.
Dante supported him while one bodyguard cleared the surrounding tables.
“Papa. Look at me.”
The old man seized Nora's wrist.
His hand felt frighteningly cold.
“Listen carefully.”
“Sir, please don't talk.”
“The coat.”
“I have it.”
“Don't give it to Dante.”
Dante went still.
“Papa?”
Salvatore's eyes remained fixed on Nora.
“Don't give it to anyone until you understand what he carried.”
Then he pulled her closer.
And whispered six words that made her heart stop.
“Your grandfather did not betray me.”
Salvatore struggled for breath.
“I betrayed him.”
The ambulance arrived seven minutes later.
Nora watched from the entrance as paramedics carried Salvatore into the vehicle.
Dante climbed inside with his father.
Before the doors closed, he looked directly at her.
“Miss Rossi.”
She turned.
“Whatever my father told you tonight, don't throw anything away.”
Then the doors slammed shut.
Paul appeared behind her.
“You're fired.”
Nora turned slowly.
“What?”
“You embarrassed the owner in front of an entire restaurant.”
“He collapsed!”
“And you were the reason.”
Paul folded his arms.
“Collect your belongings.”
Nora wanted to argue.
But the familiar arithmetic began inside her head.
Rent.
Electricity.
Her grandfather's remaining hospital bills.
The loan payment due Monday.
She walked silently into the employee changing room.
Carla was waiting.
“I heard.”
Nora opened her locker.
“Apparently the whole restaurant heard.”
Carla hesitated.
“Paul was making calls before Mr. Gallo arrived.”
Nora stopped.
“What calls?”
“I couldn't hear everything. But he kept asking whether you'd been assigned table four.”
“Why?”
Carla shook her head.
“He told somebody the Rossi girl would be there.”
Nora felt something cold move through her stomach.
Paul hadn't assigned her the table by accident.
He had pushed her toward it.
And someone had known exactly who she was.
She hurried outside.
The Friday night air felt damp against her face.
By the time she reached her apartment, her hands were shaking.
She pulled the old coat from the back of her closet.
The fabric was heavier than she remembered.
One pocket contained two peppermint wrappers.
The other held a yellowed bus ticket.
Nora almost smiled.
Her grandfather had never thrown away anything he thought might be useful.
Then she felt something stiff beneath the lining.
She fetched her sewing scissors.
Her grandfather had taught her to repair clothes, not destroy them.
But the stitching along the inside seam was uneven.
Someone had sewn it by hand.
She carefully opened three inches.
A small envelope slipped onto the floor.
Inside was a black-and-white photograph.
Three men stood beside a farmhouse in Sicily.
One was Pietro.
One was Salvatore.
The third man's face had been scratched away.
On the back, her grandfather had written a single sentence in English.
If Salvatore Gallo ever finds Nora, tell him the wrong brother paid for the fire.
Nora stared at the words.
Then she turned the photograph over again.
Because beneath the scratched-out face, barely visible in the corner, was a familiar silver-handled cane.
May you like
And beside it stood a little boy.
A boy who looked exactly like Dante Gallo.
