Chapter 22: The Chair

On Saturday night Alessia took her father to dinner at a pizza place with paper menus and red vinyl booths.

Dario wore a coat.

It was a charcoal wool coat, bought that morning, and the tag still hung from the back of the collar.

"You're wearing the tag," Alessia said, sliding into the booth.

"I was told to wear a coat. Nobody mentioned tags."

She reached across and snapped it off, and put it in her pocket.

I sat at a table by the door, as agreed, with a glass of water and two of Dario's men pretending to read the news.

Alessia opened a menu and did not look up.

"Question one. Do you like pineapple on pizza?"

"I don't."

"Question two. Have you ever been in a fight?"

"Many."

"Did you win?"

"Mostly."

"Question three. What's the dumbest thing you've done?"

Dario was quiet for a moment.

"I stepped aside from a door," he said.

Alessia lowered the menu.

I saw her look at him, then at me, and then back at the menu.

"Okay," she said. "That's a good answer. We're ordering a large."

She stayed through dessert.

On Sunday the Brancato dining room was set for the whole family, and the eleven captains stood when Alessia walked in.

She wore jeans and a sweater over her brace, and she looked at them with her chin level.

"Please sit," the oldest captain said, and turned his hearing aid up.

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