Chapter 20: The Table After

Luca had Stefano's wrist before the gun cleared the jacket.

He turned it, once, and the pistol hit the floor and slid under the table.

Stefano cried out and went down on his face on the boards.

Nobody else in the hall had moved.

Luca knelt on his back and looked up the table at Dario.

"Take him out," Dario said quietly. "He leaves tonight. Put him on a plane, and let him find out what his name is worth in Florida."

"And the three?"

"Tomorrow. I will see each of them alone."

The oldest capo stood up with his hands in plain sight, and his gold watch shook.

"Don Dario," he said. "Your wife is the best man at this table."

"I know," said Dario.

By eight o'clock the house was empty.

The cars went down the drive in a long line, and the last of the cousins kissed Teresa and did not look at me.

Teresa held my face in both hands in the hall.

"I was so afraid for you," she said. "I'm so proud of you. Go to bed, and don't let him talk."

Then she went up the stairs and shut her door.

I stood alone at the foot of them.

I found that my hands had started to shake.

The reaction had waited until the last person left.

I walked back into the dining hall.

The lamps were low.

The long walnut table stretched away into the dark, scattered with water glasses and napkins, and my phone still lay in the middle of it.

I picked it up.

Behind me the door closed, and the lock turned.

"You're shaking," Dario said.

"I know."

"Come here."

I did not move.

"I held the whole room, and I can't hold a glass," I said. "Why is that?"

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