Chapter 6: Schedule B

The rowhouse in Carroll Gardens had a green door and a brass knocker shaped like a lion.

Leandro unlocked it with a key from his own ring.

"My grandfather bought it," I said, looking at the hallway. "I used to come here with him for cannoli."

"He bought it under his own name, and he never sold it."

Leandro set my suitcase at the foot of the stairs. "It's yours tonight."

In the kitchen, he laid a cream envelope on the table.

My name was on it in my grandfather's slanted handwriting.

The flap was sealed with red wax pressed with the Roselli crest.

I sat down with my coat still on.

I had not seen that handwriting in three years.

"He wrote this before he died," Leandro said.

"He told me to keep it until the day you walked out of a house that wasn't yours, on your own two feet."

"Why on my own feet?"

"Read it."

I broke the wax with my thumbnail.

My grandfather had written with a fountain pen, and the lines leaned to the right.

Mirella, if you are reading this, you have walked out of a house that wasn't yours, and I am proud of you.

I have made you the head of this family.

Your father will tell you otherwise.

He burned the real will, read a false one aloud to the lawyer, and thought he was done.

Leandro has the copy that doesn't burn.

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