“No. She was alone, from what I could see.”
“Hmm,” I rumble, mulling over the thought. My mind drifts back to the necklace.
“And the necklace?” I ask him, wondering if it's the same she wore in the hospital room back when I first noticed the locket around her neck—a piece of jewelry I can’t recall from our time together. It piques my curiosity now, in the same way it did then.
“Yeah, like one of those heart necklaces that open up.”
“A locket.”
“Yeah, a locket. She kept playing with it, which, as I say it out loud, doesn’t seem weird. But it was just a combination of everything. I know I don’t really know her. It just seemed like odd behavior for anyone. Thought you should know.”
Something about Sully’s encounter doesn’t sit right, but I cannot place what about it bothers me the most. I know I will have plenty of time to consider my thoughts when I am forty-thousand feet in the air.
“Thank you for telling me, mio amico,” I tell him, knowing I need to end the call.
“Yeah, of course. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, but I know how much she meant to you, and knowing you, I’m sure she’s still important. I wouldn’t feel right sitting on this information.”
“I appreciate it. It is odd, and I’m not sure what to make of it, honestly. But I will find out.”
“I know you will. If you need me in any way, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you, Sully. Truly.”
“Travel safe,” he says, and then he disconnects us, leaving me to reflect on his encounter with Vinnie. Her behavior seems odd, but what I can’t stop thinking about is her playing with her necklace.
I flip the phone over in my hand a few times as my mind wanders. What bothers me the most is thetypeof necklace it is.
Perhaps I am reading too far into things.
As I flip the phone upright in my hand, my fingers brush across the screen until I’ve reached Vincenza’s contact, and I push the button to connect us.
The click of the phone sounds against my ear, and it goes straight to her generic voicemail, robbing me of the opportunity to even hear her voice.
Before I can continue to think about things further, the pilot comes over the intercom to greet me and warn that we are five minutes from takeoff. As he speaks, I put my seatbelt on and switch my phone into airplane mode.
Leaning my head against the headrest, I turn to my right and look out the window, relaxing into my seat as the plane begins to taxi the runway.
It gains speed, and before long, we ascend, pushing forward into the California sunset. Ridgewood’s airport is small, and it only takes moments before the plane is leveling above the city.
The buildings sparkle against the hues of purples and blues as a thin coverage of clouds comes in over the tops of them. I can’t help but smile at the beauty of the small city I called home for these last few months, but as I stare down at the skyline, I feel a small twinge of excitement to see the extravagant skyscrapers of Manhattan.
Exhaling a deep breath, I let my eyes close as I settle in for the next six or so hours of my flight.
Goodbye, Ridgewood.
Anticipation bubbles in my chest as I walk up the steps and into my parents’ home. The first thing to assault me is not the scent of the meal that is being prepared, or even the comforting smell thatistheir house. It’s my mother.
Quite literally.
The palm of her hand meets the back of my head as I walk through the door before she pulls me into a tight hug. Tears stream down her face as she pushes up on her tiptoes to squeeze around my neck.
“I cannot believe you put me through that, Sylvester Lucchetti! You are lucky you did not cause me a heart attack.”
Kissing her on both cheeks, I gently run my hands up and down her arms as though I am warming her. “Please forgive me, Mamma.”
“I already have,” she says, pulling me back into another hug. I inhale the scent of her—the perfume she wears mixing with the scent of garlic from whatever she’s been cooking. She smells of my childhood—ofhome.
In the arms of my mother, I let go of some of the pent-up stress I’ve been holding onto and allow my eyes to shut for a moment.
