Chapter 2 - THE SECOND WISH
Dante was the first person to recover.
He lifted his wineglass, took a slow drink, and smiled at the guests gathered around the dining room as though nothing unusual had happened.
“Children say strange things,” he said.
Nobody answered.
They were Morettis.
They knew better than to interrupt a conversation between brothers when one of those brothers had stopped smiling.
I looked at Clara.
“Sit down.”
She hesitated.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Sit.”
She sat.
Ellie climbed onto the empty chair beside her mother, still holding the one-eyed rabbit.
I pushed the second gold coin toward her.
“You still have two wishes.”
Clara shook her head.
“Please don't encourage her.”
“I’m not encouraging anything.”
I looked at Ellie.
“I’m listening.”
She studied the coin.
Then she looked at her mother.
Then she looked at Dante.
Finally, she whispered her second wish.
“I want Mommy to stop saying sorry.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Dante placed his glass down.
“Vincent.”
I raised one finger.
He stopped.
“Why does she say it?” I asked Clara.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“You aren't causing trouble.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
She looked toward Dante.
That tiny movement told me more than any confession could have.
I stood.
“Everyone leaves.”
My guests began moving immediately.
Dante remained seated.
“Vince.”
“Everyone.”
He stared at me.
Then he stood.
As he passed me, he leaned close.
“You’re letting grief make you reckless.”
I turned my head.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“No.”
My voice was quiet.
“I heard you say my daughter’s anniversary has made me reckless.”
Dante's jaw tightened.
“I didn't mean—”
“You did.”
He walked away.
Ten minutes later, the dining room was empty except for Clara, Ellie, and me.
I sat across from them.
“Start at the beginning.”
Clara wiped her face.
“There isn't much to tell.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
She looked at the floor.
“I worked for your brother before I worked for you.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“Doing what?”
“Housekeeping.”
“Here?”
“No. At one of his properties in Queens.”
“And why did you leave?”
She swallowed.
“Because I saw something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“That answer won't help you.”
“I saw Mr. Dante arguing with a man.”
“What man?”
“I never learned his name.”
“About what?”
“Money.”
That wasn't surprising.
“What happened?”
“The man threatened to expose him.”
“And?”
“Three days later, the man disappeared.”
I stared at her.
“Did you report it?”
She gave me a tired smile.
“To whom?”
That answer was painfully honest.
“What does this have to do with you apologizing?”
Clara looked at Ellie.
“After I left that property, Dante found out I had seen the argument.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
“He threatened you?”
“He didn't need to.”
“How?”
“He told me that if anything happened to me, nobody would believe a housekeeper.”
She paused.
“And then he told me something worse.”
“What?”
“That he knew where Ellie went to preschool.”
My anger arrived quietly.
That was always when it was most dangerous.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Clara laughed bitterly.
“You're his brother.”
“I am also your employer.”
“Exactly.”
She looked at me.
“I didn't know which one mattered more.”
I had no answer.
Ellie suddenly tugged on my sleeve.
I looked down.
She was holding her rabbit.
“Mr. Vincent?”
“Yes?”
“Can I have my last wish now?”
I nodded.
She looked at the third coin.
Then she whispered:
“I want you to find Mommy's box.”
Clara went completely still.
I turned toward her.
“What box?”
She didn't answer.
“Clara.”
Her eyes closed.
“The box isn't mine anymore.”
“Whose is it?”
May you like
She looked toward the hallway.
“Dante's.”
