sadness went away. She peered in on the sleeping child before returning downstairs to sit on the patio. She stared at the stars; she renamed the brightest one Shanda. The girl had so much potential and now she was gone.
“Ah, I will miss you,” she whispered to the dark as she blinked, not wanting to cry any more. She had to stay strong for Carlo.
Sophie frowned, and then reclined.
The night was thick, but the clock showed it was too early to retire. The weeks had become too long, the days torturous. She felt burdened of late, perhaps because her birthday was coming and Shanda and Amelda had planned a big celebration. They thought she didn’t know, but she had ears in many places. The loyal cook, Viola had hawk eyes and canine hearing for an elderly woman and conveyed household gossip to her employer.
Sophie chose to forego a fiesta this year. She could not dance or smile pretending she were happy when she lost a woman who had become a second daughter.
A guard appeared on the lawn. “Signora Dichenzo there is a man at the gate; he says his name is Yosef.”
Ice froze her veins. Yosef was in prison for twenty years, at least she had thought. The frost became a furnace and her ventricles thawed. Her eyes did not reflect her panic. Controlled, she nodded. “Sí let him enter but ensure he is relieved of any weapons,” she instructed . Although this was normal procedure, reiteration of security protocol revealed her concern.
The guard disappeared and Sophie exhaled hard, and then she stood. She would face Yosef without fear. In business, a lady cannot show weakness. She had made risky business deals in the past with hard men. The one she married was quite fierce. Whatever compensation Yosef expected; she was unwilling to give. The Statute of Limitations had run, it’s not as if she committed murder.
Sophie marched through the house. Viola had retired for the night, her arthritis had flared. The poor woman refused to go to Syracuse to live with her daughter.
A mirror in the foyer is where Sophie glanced at her reflection. A few pounds here and there enhanced her figure. As a girl she’d been too thin. She scoffed. Her mother said she resembled Sophia Loren. “You should become an actress,” her mother often encouraged, but Sophie loved cooking. She had no interest in memorizing scripts or spending hours in make-up and wardrobe with children .
She opened the door before anyone rang the bell. She did not want to wake Carlo. Yosef approached, escorted by a soldati with an automatic rifle. He wore a crisp white shirt, black slacks and polished shoes. The former mane of black hair was peppered with grey beneath his yarmulke. He had aged but well, the rock cell gave him an even meaner disposition she noticed by the sneer on his mouth. But, he played the gentleman. “Shalom, Sophie Dichenzo, my sympathies are delayed.”
Sophie waved him in, leaving the soldati outside the door. When they were alone she offered Yosef refreshments; she refused to acknowledge his disingenuous condolences. “Would you like tea, or coffee?”
He waved his hand. The inspection of her home was made without turning his head. “No,” he answered walking to the settee but he did not sit. “Beautiful villa. Carlo made you a very rich widow.”
“What do you want Yosef?” she asked without further ceremony.
The sharp white of his teeth showed. “Must I say?”
Her eyes flicked over the well-formed physique, further sculpted by what many say is prison exercise. What else is there to do behind bars besides reading for an inmate with a lengthy sentence?
“Our business concluded upon your arrest ,” Sophie stated.
“Oh, but Signora Dichenzo, that is not how it works.”
Sophie’s eyes were spiteful. “It is what I say, capisce?”
Yosef snorted. “What you say does not alter the debt.”
“I owe you nothing!”
“I am here to conclude our transaction. I demand the balance. I sat in jail because of you.”
“ You were
“Ah, I will miss you,” she whispered to the dark as she blinked, not wanting to cry any more. She had to stay strong for Carlo.
Sophie frowned, and then reclined.
The night was thick, but the clock showed it was too early to retire. The weeks had become too long, the days torturous. She felt burdened of late, perhaps because her birthday was coming and Shanda and Amelda had planned a big celebration. They thought she didn’t know, but she had ears in many places. The loyal cook, Viola had hawk eyes and canine hearing for an elderly woman and conveyed household gossip to her employer.
Sophie chose to forego a fiesta this year. She could not dance or smile pretending she were happy when she lost a woman who had become a second daughter.
A guard appeared on the lawn. “Signora Dichenzo there is a man at the gate; he says his name is Yosef.”
Ice froze her veins. Yosef was in prison for twenty years, at least she had thought. The frost became a furnace and her ventricles thawed. Her eyes did not reflect her panic. Controlled, she nodded. “Sí let him enter but ensure he is relieved of any weapons,” she instructed . Although this was normal procedure, reiteration of security protocol revealed her concern.
The guard disappeared and Sophie exhaled hard, and then she stood. She would face Yosef without fear. In business, a lady cannot show weakness. She had made risky business deals in the past with hard men. The one she married was quite fierce. Whatever compensation Yosef expected; she was unwilling to give. The Statute of Limitations had run, it’s not as if she committed murder.
Sophie marched through the house. Viola had retired for the night, her arthritis had flared. The poor woman refused to go to Syracuse to live with her daughter.
A mirror in the foyer is where Sophie glanced at her reflection. A few pounds here and there enhanced her figure. As a girl she’d been too thin. She scoffed. Her mother said she resembled Sophia Loren. “You should become an actress,” her mother often encouraged, but Sophie loved cooking. She had no interest in memorizing scripts or spending hours in make-up and wardrobe with children .
She opened the door before anyone rang the bell. She did not want to wake Carlo. Yosef approached, escorted by a soldati with an automatic rifle. He wore a crisp white shirt, black slacks and polished shoes. The former mane of black hair was peppered with grey beneath his yarmulke. He had aged but well, the rock cell gave him an even meaner disposition she noticed by the sneer on his mouth. But, he played the gentleman. “Shalom, Sophie Dichenzo, my sympathies are delayed.”
Sophie waved him in, leaving the soldati outside the door. When they were alone she offered Yosef refreshments; she refused to acknowledge his disingenuous condolences. “Would you like tea, or coffee?”
He waved his hand. The inspection of her home was made without turning his head. “No,” he answered walking to the settee but he did not sit. “Beautiful villa. Carlo made you a very rich widow.”
“What do you want Yosef?” she asked without further ceremony.
The sharp white of his teeth showed. “Must I say?”
Her eyes flicked over the well-formed physique, further sculpted by what many say is prison exercise. What else is there to do behind bars besides reading for an inmate with a lengthy sentence?
“Our business concluded upon your arrest ,” Sophie stated.
“Oh, but Signora Dichenzo, that is not how it works.”
Sophie’s eyes were spiteful. “It is what I say, capisce?”
Yosef snorted. “What you say does not alter the debt.”
“I owe you nothing!”
“I am here to conclude our transaction. I demand the balance. I sat in jail because of you.”
“ You were
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