Chapter 17: Take Off the Ring

Nobody in the hall made a sound.

Giacomo stayed on his knees on the bare floor with his head bowed, an arm's length from my daughter's blanket.

"Daisy," he said.

It was the first time I had heard him say her name.

"I held a can of formula in my hand and put it back. I let her cry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Daisy stirred against my neck and went back to sleep.

"She can't hear you," I said.

"I know."

"I can."

He raised his head, and his face was wet.

"What do I do?" he said. "Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

The old capo leaned on his cane.

"That is the right question, at last," he said. "Mrs. Ferraro. The table will hear your answer."

I looked down at the man who had been my husband for six years.

"Take off the ring," I said.

He stared at it.

It was the Ferraro signet, heavy and gold, the one he had worn at our wedding.

"That is the Family's seat," he said.

"It is Daisy's seat, and you've held it for her. Give it to the man who will hold it until she's grown."

"Moira..."

"The old capo," I said. "Not Santo, and not me."

The old man's eyebrows rose.

"I'm eighty-one years old," he said. "I won't live to see her grown."

"Then teach someone while you do."

Something moved at the edge of his mouth, and it might have been a smile.

Giacomo pulled the ring off his finger.

It stuck at the knuckle, and he worked it free with his teeth set.

He held it out, and the old capo took it between two fingers.

"Giacomo Ferraro is no longer boss," the old man said to the table. "Does anyone object?"

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