Chapter 11: Who Is Worth Less

Nobody at that table breathed.

Santo set down his glass without a sound.

"You would trade my wife for your sister," he said.

"A better wife," Massimo said quickly. "A bond, Don Corvaia. Viola made a rash choice, and--"

"Viola made it in front of four hundred phones after you gave her no other."

"Massimo," Nerina said.

She had gone white under the green silk.

"I never asked you for this," she said. "Not this."

"You're an Ardizzone, tesoro. You deserve the best man in Sicily."

"I want Tullio."

"You'll want whatever keeps this family alive."

At the end of the table, Tullio shoved back his chair.

"Massimo, you gave her to me," he said.

His voice cracked.

"You said it in front of everyone. I broke my word to Viola for her."

"You broke your word for a seat at the Table," Massimo said coldly. "Sit down, or you won't keep that either."

Tullio looked at Nerina, and Nerina looked at her plate, and he sat down.

The old man who had laughed said something low to his neighbor.

I stood up.

Twelve faces turned.

My knees were weak, but my voice came out steady.

"May I speak, Don Corvaia?"

"My wife has the floor," Santo said. "Anyone who interrupts her can leave."

I looked down the table at the heads of every family that had crossed the square and left me alone on the steps.