Chapter 2 - The Story Marco Had Been Told
Domenico did not open the envelope that afternoon.
That decision surprised both Camilla and Marco.
He placed it on the mantel where all three of them could see it, then told Marco to sit down and Camilla to stay where she was.
“If either one of you touches that envelope,” he said, “this conversation ends, and I call the company attorney tonight.”
Marco gave a humorless laugh.
“Of course you do.”
Camilla looked at him sharply.
“Marco.”
“No, let him.” Marco’s anger had returned now that the envelope was out of reach. “He’s good at making everything sound official.”
Domenico studied him.
“What does that mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.”
“I don’t.”
Marco leaned forward.
“My father helped you start that company.”
Domenico said nothing for several seconds.
There it was.
Anthony Bellini.
The surname written on the envelope.
Marco’s father had worked beside Domenico when DeLuca Architectural Millwork had been little more than two men, a rented shop, three saws, and more debt than customers.
Anthony had been dead for nine years.
Domenico had not heard his name from Marco in nearly as long.
“He worked with me,” Domenico said carefully.
Marco shook his head.
“That’s how you tell it.”
“That’s what happened.”
“He put money into the company.”
Camilla closed her eyes.
Domenico noticed.
“How much?” he asked.
Marco stared at him as if the question itself were insulting.
“You really want to play this game?”
“I asked you how much.”
“Sixty thousand dollars.”
Domenico’s expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for Camilla to notice.
Marco noticed too.
“There,” he said. “You remember.”
“I remember a lot of things.”
“My father told my mother you took his money, pushed him out, and spent the next thirty years acting like the business was yours alone.”
“That is not what happened.”
“Then why did Aunt Teresa keep paying my family after he left?”
The use of Teresa’s name caught Domenico off guard.
Marco had called her Aunt Teresa as a child, years before he and Camilla had started dating. Their families had attended the same parish for a while. Gina Bellini had once brought Marco to summer cookouts at the DeLuca house.
Domenico had almost forgotten.
Almost.
Camilla finally spoke.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you before.”
Domenico turned toward her.
“When?”
“Last month.”
“You told me Marco was upset about his role at the company.”
“He was.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Camilla pressed her lips together.
Marco stood.
“My father put sixty grand into your business. Then you got successful and somehow he ended up with nothing.”
Domenico’s voice remained even.
“And you know this because?”
“My mother had copies of old bank records.”
“Copies of what?”
“A withdrawal. 1997. Sixty thousand.”
Domenico frowned.
Anthony had brought money into the company in 1997.
That part was true.
But not in the way Marco believed.
Domenico looked toward the mantel.
The envelope appeared smaller from across the room.
Camilla followed his gaze.
“Mom told me about it once,” she said.
Domenico turned back.
“About what?”
“The envelope.”
That hurt more than he expected.
“Your mother told you?”
“Not what was inside.”
“When?”
“I was nineteen.”
“Eight years ago?”
Camilla nodded.
“She said if Anthony’s name ever became a problem in the family, there was something hidden in the vase that explained it.”
Domenico stared at his daughter.
Teresa had still been alive then.
And she had never told him.
“Why didn’t you mention that after she died?”
“Because Anthony wasn’t a problem.”
“Until Marco started working for me?”
Camilla hesitated.
“Until Marco found the old withdrawal record at his mom’s house.”
Marco cut in.
“And before you start blaming her, she didn’t believe me at first.”
Domenico looked at Camilla.
“Do you believe him now?”
Her answer took too long.
“I believe something happened that you never told me.”
It was the first sentence she had spoken that afternoon that sounded completely honest.
Domenico sat back.
He could have opened the envelope immediately.
Part of him wanted to.
But Teresa had hidden it deliberately. Anthony was dead. The business records still existed. And Camilla’s fear suggested the current problem might matter more than a twenty-nine-year-old argument.
So Domenico asked a different question.
“What have you two done because you believed Anthony was owed money?”
Marco’s face hardened.
May you like
Camilla looked down.
And suddenly the old envelope was no longer the only thing in the room Domenico was afraid to open.
