Chapter 10: Broken Glass

Graziella reached under the desk and caught a handful of my hair.

She pulled.

I came out on my hands and knees onto the rug.

"Look at you," she said. "Crawling around his study in the dark like a cat."

I got to my feet.

The phone was flat against my stomach, under the maid's apron.

I kept my arms loose at my sides so she wouldn't look there.

She was dressed already, in white trousers and a cream jacket, with the clinic folder under her arm.

My grandmother's emerald was on her hand.

"I know what he paid you," I said.

Her smile didn't move.

"Rent's expensive in Palermo."

"You were my friend."

"I was your cook's daughter."

She said it lightly.

"Do you know how many times your mother called me in to clear your plate?"

"While you sat there in the same dress as me?"

"I never asked her to do that."

"You never asked her to stop."

She tucked the folder tighter under her arm.

"I wore your dresses. I went to your school. I sat at the back of your first wedding."

"And every Family on this island looked straight through me to get to you."

"So you took my husband."

"Saverio asked me to. And he paid. And it was easy."

She stepped closer.

"Then he asked me to stay. That part was my idea."

"And I know about the car on Sunday," I said.

For the first time, something flickered across her face.

Then it was gone.

"So you heard. Good. I hate surprises."

She looked past me at the desk.

On the corner, in a silver frame, was the photo of the old Don with the mayor.

She picked it up and turned it over in her hands, almost admiring it.

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