Chapter 13: Rule One

I carried both papers home under my coat and didn't sleep.

The register went in the drawer of the nightstand, under the paperback with the cracked spine.

The petition stayed on top of the quilt, where I could see my name missing from it.

At six I came down to the kitchen in my sweatshirt.

Rocco was at the table with his arm strapped and a cup of coffee going cold in front of him.

He stood up when I came in. He had not slept either.

Zia Ines looked at the two of us, put a basket of bread on the table and went out to the garden.

I set the petition down between the sugar jar and the butter.

"I'm not signing it today," I said.

"It's yours to sign whenever you want."

"The terms stay. Thirty days, I listen, then the capos vote, then I decide."

"All right."

"And I'm staying in my own room."

"All right," he said again, and then, quieter, "Livia, you said it was adrenaline."

"I did."

"I've been shot before. It never did that to me."

I buttered a piece of bread so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"Eat something," I said. "We have to go and be looked at."

The capos had asked for lunch at the club, so that they could see us together.

There were six of them in the back room, spread down the oak table, and a waiter went around with a tray of baked clams.

Silvio's chair sat empty at the head. Nobody had taken it.

The old man with the cane had the seat next to mine.

"Signora Danieli," he said, with a small nod.

"Livia is fine."

"Livia is for your father. Today you are your husband's wife, and that is what they want to look at."

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