Chapter 21: The Chair

Tancredi's POV

On the eleventh morning I sat down in my father's chair.

It stood behind the desk in his study, tall and leather, with the arms worn pale where his hands had rested.

I had used the visitor's chair for fourteen months.

My uncle had told me the big one was too heavy for me.

I sat in it with the door open.

Eleven captains came through that morning, one at a time, and each of them stood with his hat in his hand.

The old baker asked me to forgive his son.

The garage owner brought a tray of pastries his wife had made.

None of them said Don Falzone as if it were a joke.

I found that I could not answer without my voice shaking.

At noon Remo put his head in the door.

He still had his arm in a sling and a sour look about the hospital food.

"The hearing's over, boss," he said. "The new judge gave him time served."

I stood up so fast the chair rolled back into the wall.

The courthouse had the same side ramp, and the same grey light.

I stood against the Escalade's fender with my hands in my pockets.

I had left the ring on the desk.

I did not want him to think I had come to be a Don at him.

The doors opened.

Emilio came out on a cane, in the sweater Sabina had saved for him.

He was thin, and his hair was cut short.

She walked at his side with her hand under his elbow.

When she saw me, she said something low to him, and she let go.

She went to stand by the car and did not look at either of us.

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