She settles us, and once the room grows still, the scary man stands and clinks a knife against his short glass filled with a dark-golden liquid.
“I find myself to be a reasonable man. Afamilyman. Which is why I’d like to welcome you all to my home this evening for dinner. Though unplanned, it seems fitting, as I have recently learned that things don’t always goas planned.I hope that through this act of breaking bread and sharing time, minds will change before the night is over.” His words trail off as he staresat my uncle, who I see gulp, the knob in his throat moving. “Now, please join me in prayer. Dear Heavenly Father, we ask that you bless our food and the guests we have here tonight to share it. May you offer your wisdom and guidance to those who may need it the most, and that you share your light by blessing our families, cultivating our relationships, and nurturing our businesses. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Amen,” I whisper, as everyone joins in.
Mamma and Papà exchange a look right before the sound of a loud snap echoes through the room.
With it, four people in black clothes walk forward and reach between us, pulling the shiny silver tops off the food sitting in the middle of the table.
Immediately, several scents hit me, and my stomach growls. Roasted chicken, steak, capellini pasta with Alfredo sauce, penne marinara, and fresh baked bread. My eyes bounce from dish to dish, skipping quickly over anything green—Mamma will make me eat my vegetables, but that doesn’t mean I have to look forward to them.
With the clatter of dishes around us, I hear Mamma whisper to Papà, “Cosa significa che spera che le menti cambiano?”What does he mean he hopes minds will change?
“Shh, shh,” Papà whispers, before painting on a smile and turning to the head of the table. “Everything looks delizioso, Maurizio. Grazie.”
The scary man, Maurizio, begins to serve himself, and as soon as his wife does, the rest of the adults do the same.
When our plates and our mouths are full, I realize no one is speaking. A rarity for a meal with my family.
Looking around the table, I see the scary man sending mean looks in my uncle's direction, while his wife fusses over the girl, trying to get her to try the food on her plate.
I don’t know why she wouldn’t want to.
Shoveling my mouth full bite after bite, I clear my plate and lean back in my chair, my stomach protruding.
“That was delizioso!” I exclaim loudly, knowing I was to be seen and not heard tonight, but not liking the silence. We speak at dinner. Why is no one speaking?
The scary man turns his attention to me, and suddenly I wish I had kept quiet. I am surprised when his grumpy look wipes clean. “I am glad, piccolo Lucchetti.”
His gaze sweeps along the table, and he turns to his wife. “Leighton, my dear, perhaps now that we have finished, the men can speak once more?”
“Sure, my love,” she tells him, then leans over to kiss him—ew. “Ladies, kiddos, shall we?”
Standing, she helps her daughter pull out her chair while Mamma and Aunt Andrea help us. Mamma casts another look to Papà, who nods, and Aunt Andrea bends to kiss Uncle Gabriele.
Why is everyone kissing?
As we walk away, I slow my steps to eavesdrop. “Have you thought about my offer,Gabriele?”
“Maurizio,please, there must be another way I can?—”
“You have stolen from me, Gabriele! I have given more than enough time and patience because at one time I called you my most loyal employee, butnowI need an answer. Have we come to an understanding?”
I look over my shoulder in time to see my uncle shake his head no, and watch as the scary man stands, forcing my uncle to look up at him. “How disappointing. You abuse my patience, even after I am gracious enough to take in your family for a meal.”
My mother turns and sees that I have completely stopped walking, and hurries back to grab my arm. As she pulls me toward the door, the scary man continues yelling at my uncle, without actually raising his voice. “I put my trust in you, Gabriele. It was misguided, and it won’t be forgotten. Let this be a warning to you, Antonio, of what happens when you cross Maurizio Paladino.” Maurizio’s gaze lifts and he watches us as we near the door.
We hardly cross the threshold before their butler pulls both doors closed behind us, slamming them shut. They hardly click into place when the piercing sound of a gunshot rings out behind them.
“NO!” Aunt Andrea screams, charging toward the door, but the man blocking it holds her back.
The girl, Vincenza, whimpers at the sound and curls into her mother, burying her head into the fabric of her dress. Her mother’s hand covers her own mouth as though she’s surprised.
“I’m so sorry,” she cries out, but she’s already pushing her daughter down the hall and away from us.
They disappear quickly as Mamma rushes to Aunt Andrea, pulling her into her arms while she sobs louder than I’ve ever heard anyone cry before.
Seconds later the doorknobs twist loudly, and Papà appears, tossing open the doors and stepping through them. His eyes are wild and fearful as he looks at each one of us. “Come,” he says hurriedly. “We must leave.Now.”