Chapter 4: Be Practical

The emerald looked wrong on her.

Her fingers were longer than mine, and the band stopped at the knuckle.

Graziella pushed it down hard until it went over.

She held her hand up to the dome so the stone caught the light.

"It's a little old-fashioned," she said. "I'll get used to it."

Saverio shut the door.

I heard the key turn.

I spent the night on the floor beside the bed with my back against the wall.

I didn't lie under the glass.

I couldn't stand to see the stars through it.

Sometime after midnight I heard Graziella laughing downstairs.

Then I heard her on the stairs.

Then the guest room door across the hall opened and closed.

In the morning the key turned again.

One of Saverio's men stood in the doorway.

"Your parents are here."

I nearly ran.

I went down the stairs in yesterday's dress with dried mud on the hem.

My father would see me.

My father would see what Saverio had done, and he'd take me home.

They were on the terrace.

The sun had come out, and the sea behind them was flat and blue.

My father sat at the iron table in his Sunday suit.

My mother sat beside him in her pearls.

Across from them, in my white robe, sat Graziella.

My mother was pouring her coffee.

She looked up at me and finished pouring.

"Papa."

My father looked at the mud on my dress and then at the table.

"Sit down, Rosaria."

"Papa, he slept with her. The night before our wedding. In the car. And then here, in our house."

"I know."

"He pushed me out of the car. He canceled my card. I walked home barefoot in the rain."

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