Chapter 22: Silvia's Verdict

My father came down the slip alone, with his hat held against his chest.

He stopped in front of the old man, and the six heads turned to face him.

"I've come to answer," he said.

"Then answer."

My father looked past the heads and found my mother, who had arrived in Fabio's car with her navy coat buttoned to the neck.

"Not here," he said. "She should hear it where she can sit."

The old man considered that.

"Tomorrow at ten," he said. "The parish hall. Bring nothing."

The next morning the table sat in the same room where I had asked for a chair.

My father stood at the end of it.

My mother sat on my right, and Cassio sat in a folding chair by the wall with a fresh bandage and a doctor's disapproval.

My father looked at the floor.

"On the night of the crash," he said, "I had been drinking at the club until midnight."

He swallowed.

"I took the wheel against my own wife's advice."

My mother's hands went still.

"I lost the road, and the car went over. Silvia's father pulled me out, and then he died."

"Say the rest," the old man said.

"I told the families it was ice on the road. I paid the police."

His voice dropped.

"I let a girl of sixteen live in my house for nine years believing her father died a hero for a friend."

He stopped.

"He was one. And I was the reason."

Nobody breathed.

"Seat and name," the old man said. "Tell the table what you offer."

"Both."

"The Lanzetta seat is no longer yours," the old man said. "It passes to Viviana Lanzetta, for good. Do you accept?"

"I accept."

"You will not enter the Lanzetta house. You will live above the dock office, without a vote, until the table says otherwise."

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