Chapter 4: Her Things

At nine the next morning, three cars of Lanzetta men stopped at Cassio's gate.

I watched them from the porch with a cup of coffee going cold in my hand.

My father got out of the middle car first, in his good gray suit, with his hat in his hand.

Carlo got out behind him, and Fabio stayed in the back seat.

Cassio's men stood along the fence with their hands loose at their sides.

Twelve of ours faced twelve of theirs, and nobody drew anything.

Cassio came out and stood beside me.

"You don't have to go down there," he said.

"Yes, I do."

I walked down the gravel in yesterday's dress, because I hadn't had a chance to buy another.

My father opened his arms.

"Vivi. My girl."

I stopped two steps short of them.

"You scared us half to death," he said. "Come home. The families are asking questions, and I have to answer every one."

"What do you tell them?"

"That you're grieving. That you said things you didn't mean."

"I meant every word."

His smile stayed where it was.

"Viviana, a veto is a family matter. It stays inside the family. You made a scene in front of the six heads."

"So I did."

"Come home, and we'll fix it quietly."

"Fix what? The funeral?"

He glanced at Cassio's men and said nothing.

I turned to Carlo.

My brother was sweating through his collar, though the morning was cool.

"Carlo," I said, loud enough for the fence line to hear. "What's in the coffin?"

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