Chapter 7: Her Mother's Green Dress

I wore my mother's green dress to Saturday's dinner.

It had hung in a garment bag in the cottage closet for fourteen years, and it still fit.

Remo came to the boathouse stair in his dark patrol uniform, pressed and buttoned to the throat.

He looked at me for a long moment and did not say anything.

"Is it wrong?" I asked.

"No." His voice was rough. "No. It's fine."

He gave me his arm, and I took it.

The dining room in the lake house had a table that seated forty.

Both families were there, and the talk stopped as the doors opened.

I saw cousins, uncles, the Delmonte Don with his silver hair and his folded hands, and the guards along the walls.

Cesare sat at the old man's right hand, and Fiora sat beside him in white, with the crest bracelet at her wrist.

At the left of the table stood an old carved chair with a brass plate on its back.

ARCURI.

Nobody sat in it.

Nobody ever had.

The old man nodded to me from the head of the table, and I let go of Remo's arm and took a seat halfway down, as I had agreed to.

Remo sat next to me.

A cousin muttered "the boatman" behind his hand.

Fiora looked straight at me and smiled with great warmth.

The soup came and went.

Then the old man tapped his glass with a spoon, and the table fell quiet again.

"Tonight," he said, "I'm glad to announce something that has been settled between our houses."

I saw Fiora's hand go to Cesare's.

"My son Cesare and Fiora Delmonte will be married in the spring."

Applause went down the table.

Fiora lifted her left hand, and a ring flashed.

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