Chapter 10 - The Flowers on the Floor|
We reached my mother's flower shop seventeen minutes later.
I don't remember the drive.
Only the sound of Luca's voice speaking to the police through the car's hands-free system.
Only the flashing lights reflected in the rain.
Only the terrible image of my mother standing behind the counter, frightened and alone.
The shop sat on a quiet street in Oak Park.
My parents had owned it for nineteen years.
Every childhood memory I treasured seemed to contain the smell of fresh roses.
My mother taught me to make bouquets there.
My father built the shelves.
I'd spent entire summers carrying buckets of water and sweeping petals from the floor.
Now the front window was broken.
Glass covered the sidewalk.
Yellow police tape stretched across the entrance.
I tried to open the car door before we'd fully stopped.
Luca caught my wrist.
"Emma, wait."
"That's my mother!"
"I know."
"Let me go!"
He released me.
I ran toward the shop.
An officer stepped into my path.
"Ma'am—"
"My mother owns this place!"
His expression softened.
"Are you Emma Moretti?"
"Yes."
He glanced toward Luca.
Then moved aside.
Inside, the shop looked like a storm had passed through it.
Flower buckets had overturned.
Water covered the floor.
White roses lay beneath broken glass.
The cash register was open.
And my mother's favorite ceramic vase had shattered beside the counter.
I covered my mouth.
"Mom?"
No answer.
I called again.
"Mom!"
An officer approached.
"Mrs. Moretti, your mother was taken to the hospital."
My knees weakened.
"What happened?"
"She sustained a minor injury during a confrontation. She's conscious."
I closed my eyes.
Relief struck so suddenly that I almost collapsed.
Luca reached me.
"Which hospital?"
The officer answered.
We hurried back toward the car.
But before we left, an older detective called my name.
"Mrs. Moretti?"
I turned.
He held up a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a black bead.
One polished bead.
Like those on the rosary left on Isabella's pillow.
"Do you recognize this?"
I stared at it.
"Yes."
The detective studied me.
"Where have you seen it?"
"At my house."
I explained about the rosary.
His expression changed.
Then he asked something unexpected.
"Does your husband know a man named Peter Salvi?"
Luca stepped forward.
"He worked on our security system."
The detective nodded.
"We have surveillance footage of a man matching his description entering the shop shortly before the incident."
Luca's jaw tightened.
"Where is he?"
"We're looking for him."
The detective glanced toward me.
"Your mother managed to activate the shop's emergency alarm. That brought officers to the area before the man could force her into his vehicle."
I pressed a hand against my chest.
She had escaped.
My mother had fought for herself.
And she'd survived.
We reached the hospital shortly afterward.
I found her sitting upright on a bed, a small bandage above her eyebrow.
When she saw me, she began crying.
"Emma."
I rushed into her arms.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I pulled back.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded.
"I'm fine, sweetheart."
I looked at the bandage.
"Mom."
She gave a watery smile.
"I've survived worse than one foolish man."
I laughed through tears.
That sounded like her.
Luca stood quietly near the door.
My mother noticed.
"Leonardo."
He approached.
"Mrs. Whitmore."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then asked, "Is my granddaughter safe?"
"Yes."
"With your grandmother?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Good."
Then her expression hardened.
"Now tell me why your mistress sent a man to my shop."
Luca lowered his eyes.
I watched him.
He could have denied responsibility.
He could have blamed Vanessa.
He could have reminded my mother that the threats had begun without his knowledge.
Instead, he said, "Because I brought someone dangerous into my family."
My mother studied him.
"That wasn't what I asked."
Luca swallowed.
"Vanessa is trying to gain control of property interests connected to the Moretti and Bellini families. She has used our daughter and your family as leverage."
My mother closed her eyes.
"Just like her grandmother."
I frowned.
"What?"
Helen opened the drawer beside her hospital bed.
She removed a small envelope.
"I was going to give you this after dinner on Sunday."
She handed it to me.
Inside was a photograph.
Rosa DeLuca.
My grandmother.
Standing beside a younger Francesca Moretti.
I stared.
"They knew each other?"
My mother nodded.
"Rosa and Francesca met years after Rosa left Vittorio. They corresponded quietly."
I looked toward Luca.
His expression changed.
My mother continued.
"Rosa had proof that Giovanni Bellini's family stole money from the DeLuca properties. She wanted the records corrected."
I swallowed.
"Did she ever succeed?"
"No."
Helen looked toward the photograph.
"But before she died, she gave me something."
"What?"
"A ledger."
Luca immediately straightened.
"What kind of ledger?"
"Financial records. Payments. Property transfers. Names."
My mother looked directly at him.
"Your grandfather wasn't the man who stole from Rosa."
Luca frowned.
"Then who?"
"Alessandra Bellini."
Silence filled the hospital room.
Helen continued.
"She forged documents after Rosa disappeared. She convinced Giovanni and Vittorio that Rosa had betrayed them both."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"Because the DeLuca property shares would become valuable once the waterfront was developed. Alessandra wanted them."
Luca slowly sat down.
My mother looked toward him.
"Rosa spent years trying to prove what happened. She never wanted revenge. She wanted her daughter to inherit what was rightfully hers."
I looked at the envelope.
"Where's the ledger?"
My mother smiled faintly.
"Somewhere Vanessa would never think to look."
I waited.
She reached beneath her pillow.
And handed me a small brass key.
"The flower shop has a basement, Emma."
I nodded.
"Of course."
"Do you remember the old refrigerator your father never let us throw away?"
I frowned.
"The green one?"
She nodded.
"There's a false panel beneath it."
My heart began pounding.
"The ledger is there?"
My mother shook her head.
"No, sweetheart."
She looked toward Luca.
"The original trust agreement is there."
Then she whispered, "And it says that if a Bellini ever attempts to claim the property through fraud, the disputed shares must be held for Rosa's descendants until a court decides the rightful owner."
Luca looked at me.
I looked back.
For the first time, I understood why Vanessa was so desperate.
May you like
She wasn't trying to obtain something that belonged to her.
She was trying to steal something before anyone could prove it belonged to someone else.
