Chapter 3 - THE EMPTY CHAIR AT THE HEAD OF THE TABLE|
I had never seen thirty wealthy people fall silent so quickly.
Not when Luca Moretti entered a room.
Not when police sirens passed the mansion.
And certainly not during a Thanksgiving dinner.
But when Luca walked into the dining room holding his father's hand, every conversation stopped.
Frank was still wearing his navy-blue suit.
His silver hair had become slightly disheveled.
And his eyes were red from crying.
Luca guided him toward the enormous mahogany table.
Then he looked at me.
"Claire, where's Dad's chair?"
My throat tightened.
"Mrs. Moretti ordered me to remove it, sir."
A few guests exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Vivienne stood beside her mother, Celeste, near the fireplace.
"Darling, surely we don't need to discuss this in front of everyone."
Luca ignored her.
"Bring the chair back, Claire."
I hurried into the hallway.
The chair was exactly where I had left it.
Against the wall beside a decorative table, hidden beneath an enormous vase of white roses.
I carried it into the dining room.
Luca took it from my hands.
Then he placed it beside his own seat.
"Sit down, Dad."
Frank hesitated.
"But Vivienne said her family needed the best places."
Luca pulled the chair back.
"This is your home."
"Son, I don't want an argument."
"Neither do I."
His voice softened.
"I want Thanksgiving dinner with my father."
Frank slowly sat down.
Something extraordinary happened.
An elderly woman seated near the fireplace stood and began applauding.
Her name was Mrs. Eleanor Whitcomb.
She had known Frank since the days when Rosa's Table served three-dollar spaghetti dinners to factory workers.
"About time," she said firmly.
A few guests joined her.
Others looked away.
Vivienne's face turned scarlet.
"How dare you humiliate me in front of my family?"
Luca looked at her.
"You told my father I didn't want him here."
"I was protecting your reputation."
"From the man who raised me?"
She pressed her lips together.
Celeste stepped forward.
"Luca, darling, Vivienne has been under tremendous stress."
"Then perhaps she should sit down."
Celeste recoiled.
Nobody had ever spoken to her like that in her daughter's presence.
I approached Frank with a fresh plate of turkey.
He touched my wrist gently.
"Thank you, sweetheart."
I smiled.
Then he reached into his jacket pocket and removed the small wrapped present.
"Before everybody eats," he said, "I wanted to give Luca something."
The room grew quiet again.
Luca sat beside him.
"Dad, you didn't have to buy me anything."
"I didn't buy it."
Frank looked embarrassed.
"I just finally found the courage to give it to you."
Before Luca could open the package, the dining room doors swung open.
A tall man in a charcoal overcoat entered without knocking.
His dark hair was streaked with silver.
He had the same sharp jaw as Luca, but his smile never reached his eyes.
Matteo Moretti.
Luca's younger brother.
I hadn't seen Matteo inside the mansion for nearly three months.
He rarely attended family dinners.
When he did, Frank usually spent the evening apologizing for arguments nobody else seemed to understand.
Matteo glanced at the empty seat beside Luca.
Then at his father.
"Well," he said, "this is unfortunate."
Luca stood.
"Explain the guardianship petition."
Matteo removed his gloves.
"Happy Thanksgiving to you too."
"Why is my signature on a document I never signed?"
Matteo sighed.
"Vivienne said you'd overreact."
"Answer me."
Several guests started gathering their coats.
But Luca lifted a hand.
"Please stay."
Vivienne's eyes widened.
"Luca!"
"No more private explanations."
He pointed toward Frank.
"My father deserves to hear what people have been saying about him."
Matteo straightened his coat.
"Fine."
He looked around the room.
"Dad has been displaying signs of cognitive decline."
Frank stiffened.
"That's not true."
"He forgets appointments."
"I missed one dentist appointment."
"He becomes emotional about people who died decades ago."
Frank looked at him with wounded eyes.
"Your mother was my wife, Matteo."
Matteo continued as though he hadn't heard.
"We arranged an evaluation because we're concerned about his safety."
Luca stepped closer.
"Who arranged it?"
"Dr. Nora Vale."
"Who recommended her?"
"Vivienne."
"And who paid her?"
Matteo didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I watched Frank lower his head.
He suddenly looked smaller in that enormous chair.
Something inside me snapped.
"Mr. Moretti," I said.
Matteo turned.
"What?"
"Your father remembers every appointment I make for him."
I could feel Vivienne staring at me.
"He keeps a calendar beside his bed."
"Claire, this is a family matter."
"Then why did your brother hire armed strangers to take him away?"
A murmur passed through the room.
Matteo's expression changed.
"Be careful what you're accusing me of."
I was shaking, but I didn't back down.
"Mr. Frank was frightened."
"He misunderstood."
"He told me exactly what happened."
Luca moved beside me.
"She doesn't need your permission to speak."
Matteo reached into his coat and produced a thick envelope.
"You think this is about hurt feelings?"
He threw it onto the dining table.
"This is about an eight-million-dollar development agreement."
Frank stared at the envelope.
"What agreement?"
Matteo looked at him.
"The agreement you signed."
"I didn't sign anything like that."
"You signed the authorization last week."
Frank shook his head violently.
"No."
Luca opened the envelope.
Inside was a copy of a property purchase agreement involving Rosa's Table and the adjoining parcel of land.
The buyer was a company called Lakefront Capital Holdings.
The proposed purchase price was eight million dollars.
And near the bottom was a signature resembling Frank's.
But I knew that handwriting.
After five years of reading his grocery lists, birthday cards, and handwritten recipes, I could recognize it anywhere.
"That's not his signature," I whispered.
Matteo laughed.
"You're a maid, Claire."
"Yes."
"Not a handwriting expert."
"No."
I looked directly at him.
"But I know your father's hands don't shake when he signs his name."
Frank raised his eyes.
Matteo's smile faded.
Luca placed the document on the table.
"Nobody sells that building."
Matteo stepped closer.
"You can't stop this just by shouting."
"Watch me."
His brother's face darkened.
"You always think you can protect everyone."
"Someone has to."
For a moment, Matteo looked almost hurt.
Then he glanced at Frank.
"Tell him, Dad."
Frank looked confused.
"Tell him what?"
Matteo leaned across the table.
"Tell Luca what happened eight years ago."
Frank's face went pale.
"Matteo, please."
"Tell him why you signed the first agreement."
Luca turned toward his father.
"Dad?"
Frank covered his face with both hands.
May you like
And through his tears, he whispered five words.
"I was trying to save him."
