Chapter 3

I kept staring at the red mark on Nelia's hand, ready to ask more.

Leonzio stepped in front of her again. "Mom, let's eat first. It won't taste good cold."

"Step aside."

I looked at him. "I asked what happened to her hands."

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the doorbell rang twice in quick succession.

My son immediately went to answer it.

Fiora Bellomo stood outside.

She'd been our live-in housekeeper for twenty years.

She was in her early forties, her hair neatly curled. She looked more pampered now than when she'd worked at the estate.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Donna."

She looked into the room with a smile. "I knew you were getting together tonight, so I roasted a turkey."

"Leonzio's loved my herb stuffing since he was little. I may not work at the estate anymore, but I haven't forgotten your family."

Fiora had worked for the Balestri family for twenty years, handling the kitchen and looking after our daily needs. She'd never given me a reason to worry.

Two years earlier, in the second year of Nelia's marriage, I'd been told that Nelia had fired her because a live-in housekeeper's salary was too high.

At the time, I'd thought this woman couldn't even tolerate someone cooking for her, yet never spent a cent less herself.

Now that Fiora had brought us a turkey without being asked, I couldn't be rude.

I could only set my questions aside for the moment.

She put an insulated roasting pan on the table and lifted the lid.

The scent of butter and rosemary rose from it, making the cabbage look even more meager.

My eyes fell on her hands.

Pale skin, soft fingertips, pale pink polish. Not a single crack.

Then I looked at Nelia in the corner, her hands rough, her cuticles split, that injury still between her thumb and forefinger.

The former housekeeper looked more like the pampered wife of the family's heir.

What fraudulent spa was taking Nelia's forty-five thousand dollars every month?

My chest tightened, but I didn't let it show.

"Sit down. Since you're here, eat with us," I told her.

She accepted without protest, sat beside my son, and deftly cut off a turkey leg to put on his plate.

"Leonzio, eat the skin first. It won't stay crisp once it's cold."

She'd watched my son grow up. At the time, I didn't think twice about that familiarity.

With the turkey, the table finally looked like Thanksgiving.

I turned to Nelia.

She huddled in the farthest chair, staring at the roasting pan. Her throat moved slightly.

[A month.]

[I haven't eaten meat in a whole month.]

[Even smelling it makes me hungry.]

[If I take a turkey leg, will she say I don't even know how to behave at the family table?]

I paused, my hand still around my fork.

No meat for a month?

Forty-five thousand dollars every month, and she couldn't afford one serving?

Or was she dieting again?

I'd gotten my start selling food. I couldn't stand seeing anyone go hungry with food right in front of them.

I cut off the other turkey leg and put it on her plate.

"Eat."

She looked up at me, disbelief flashing in her eyes.

[Is it really for me?]

[Or is she waiting for me to make a mistake so she can lecture me again?]

She didn't even pick up her knife.

I had to keep my face stern and urge her.

"It's on your plate because it's yours to eat."

Only then did Nelia lower her head and cut into the turkey leg. She didn't leave even the scraps along the edge of her plate.

She hardly looked like a woman accustomed to fine dining.

Something seemed wrong.

I saw Fiora's fork pause. The corners of her mouth turned down, and she seemed to glare fiercely at Nelia.

But a moment later, her smile was back.

"The whole neighborhood knows how much you love your daughter-in-law, Donna."

I assumed I'd misread it.

In the time it took to say those few words, only a bone remained on Nelia's plate.

How long had she been hungry?

I put down my fork and looked at her, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"We can save money elsewhere. We don't cut corners on food."

"Fiora worked at the estate for twenty years. I trust her with the kitchen."

"It's my call. She's coming back."

"Nelia, pay her a thousand-dollar signing bonus today. From now on, she'll take over the kitchen."

"If word gets out that the heir can't get a decent meal at home, who will take us seriously?"

Fiora's eyes lit up, though she protested. "Donna, I'm just coming back to help. You don't need to give me so much..."

I waved a hand. "Twenty years of loyalty is worth that much."

Nelia didn't answer.

She stared at the bone on her plate without moving.

One second. Two...

Fiora's smile slowly stiffened. She turned to look at me.

Her meaning was clear: Nelia wouldn't pay.

Vittore took a sip of wine and tried to smooth things over.

"It's a holiday. I'll pay the bonus."

I raised my hand to stop him.

"No."

Spending my money was one thing, but bringing the housekeeper back would make her own life easier.

She spent forty-five thousand dollars without a thought.

Now she couldn't part with a thousand dollars?

I stared at her and spoke each word distinctly.

"Nelia will pay this."

Everyone at the table looked at her.

But she only pressed her lips together and remained silent.

I raised my hand to slap her. She didn't move away.

But her thoughts now sounded close to tears.

[You old bitch! You could break my hand, and I still couldn't come up with a thousand dollars!]

[I earned this cabbage unloading goods at the wholesale market until nine.]

[Why should I have to pay your housekeeper a bonus?]

[A hundred and twenty a month for me, but you hand out money to everyone else like it's Christmas!]