Chapter 12: The Candle

We had until ten the next morning, and the first thing we needed was a bank that opened at eight.

Bianca came to the shop at midnight in the back seat of Sandro's car.

She had her gown over her arm and her coat buttoned wrong.

Paola came ten minutes later with a folded paper.

The three of us sat around my cutting table under one lamp.

For the first time in my life I was the one at the head of it.

"Say what you have," I told Paola.

"The council list." She smoothed the paper flat. "Eleven votes. Aldo has bought seven."

"How?"

"Pier contracts, mostly. And the stout man from the engagement dinner owes him for a boat."

"Then why does he need me at the altar?"

"Because the rite is void without you." Paola's mouth twisted.

"A vote can't fix a rule. Only the first wife's blessing can. That's why he offered you his name."

I looked at Bianca.

"When I say no at the altar," I said, "what does he do?"

"I don't know." Bianca twisted her hands.

"He has men in the church. Ten of them. He said he would leave nothing to chance."

"Good," I said. "Neither will I."

I took the white gown off its hanger.

I laid it across the table and ran my thumbnail along the seam of the train.

"Bianca. Do you want to marry my husband?"

"No."

"Do you want to leave your father's house?"

"Yes. More than anything."

"Then tomorrow, when the priest asks, you will not say a word either." I picked up the shears. "And you'll need to run."

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