Chapter 6 - ELENA’S WATCH
Teresa did not deny it.
That hurt Vincent almost more than if she had.
She rose from the table without speaking and walked toward the door.
Gabriel blocked her path.
“Mom.”
“I’m getting it.”
No one followed.
Three minutes later, Teresa returned carrying a small velvet pouch.
Matteo recognized it immediately.
His entire body went still.
Teresa placed the pouch on the table.
“I should have given this back a long time ago.”
Vincent opened it.
Elena’s watch slid into his palm.
The silver case was scratched.
The brown leather strap was torn near the buckle.
The blue hands had stopped at 9:42.
Matteo stared.
“That’s Mom’s.”
Vincent handed it to him.
The boy pressed the watch against his chest.
Clara looked away.
Vincent noticed tears in her eyes.
Then he remembered.
“You were accused of taking this.”
Clara nodded.
Teresa looked at her.
For the first time since Clara entered the Rossi home, Teresa seemed unable to meet the younger woman’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Clara’s expression hardened.
“You knew?”
“I learned later.”
“How much later?”
Teresa hesitated.
“Three days.”
Clara laughed once.
Three days had cost her a job.
A reputation.
Maybe more.
Vincent looked at Clara.
“What happened after the hospital fired you?”
“I wasn’t fired exactly.”
Her voice was controlled.
“My supervisor said there had been a complaint from a powerful family and it would be easier if I resigned.”
“That came from us?”
“I believed it did.”
Vincent looked toward Gabriel.
Gabriel shook his head.
“I knew nothing about it.”
Teresa whispered, “Carlo handled security.”
Clara looked at her.
“He came to the hospital.”
Vincent turned.
“Carlo questioned you?”
“Yes.”
“He told me Mrs. Rossi’s watch was missing. I told him what I had seen.”
“The person leaving Matteo’s room.”
Clara nodded.
“I couldn’t identify him clearly. It was early. He wore a dark coat.”
She glanced toward Gabriel.
“I said he was tall, dark-haired and carrying something in his right hand.”
Gabriel’s face tightened.
“That described half the men around Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“What did Carlo say?”
“That accusing this family without proof was dangerous.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
Clara saw it.
“He didn’t threaten me directly.”
“Good.”
“But he made sure I understood.”
Vincent turned toward his mother.
“How did you get Elena’s watch?”
Teresa sat.
“Gabriel brought it downstairs with Matteo that night.”
Gabriel frowned.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I would remember.”
“It fell from the coat pocket when I found you on the west landing.”
Matteo whispered, “After I fell?”
Teresa’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
The room became quiet.
She looked at her grandson.
“You were lying at the bottom of the stairs.”
Matteo stared at the watch.
“Were you there before?”
Teresa’s mouth trembled.
“Yes.”
Vincent stepped forward.
Matteo noticed.
“Dad.”
Vincent stopped.
His son had become the only person in the room capable of controlling him with one word.
Teresa continued.
“I was upstairs when I heard you crying.”
“Why didn’t you tell anybody?”
“I was ashamed.”
“For the picture?”
“For everything.”
She looked at Vincent.
“I had created the fear that sent Gabriel upstairs. Gabriel tried to take Matteo away because of me.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“I made my own choice.”
“So did I.”
Teresa looked back at Matteo.
“When I reached the stairs, Gabriel was below me. You were between us.”
Matteo’s face tightened.
Clara took his hand.
“You don’t have to remember all of it.”
“I want to.”
Teresa nodded.
“You were crying. Gabriel was trying to explain. Then the photograph fell from his coat.”
Matteo whispered, “The garden picture.”
“Yes.”
“You picked it up.”
Teresa’s eyes widened.
“You remember?”
“Some.”
“What happened next?”
Matteo closed his eyes.
The room waited.
“He said Daddy lied.”
Gabriel stood abruptly.
“No.”
Matteo opened his eyes.
“Somebody said it.”
Vincent looked around.
“Who?”
Matteo pressed his hand to his forehead.
“I don’t know.”
Clara knelt.
“What do you hear when you remember?”
Not what do you see.
Vincent understood why.
Matteo closed his eyes again.
“Rain.”
“Yes.”
“Uncle Gabriel breathing.”
Gabriel looked devastated.
“Grandma saying my name.”
Teresa covered her mouth.
“And?”
Matteo frowned.
“Shoes.”
Clara waited.
“Walking?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Stopping.”
Vincent felt cold.
“Someone else was there.”
Matteo’s eyes opened.
“I think so.”
Gabriel looked toward Teresa.
She shook her head.
“I saw no one.”
Matteo gripped Elena’s watch.
Clara touched his shoulder.
“That is enough.”
The boy nodded.
This time Vincent did not argue.
Later that morning, Clara wheeled Matteo toward the breakfast room.
Vincent followed her into the corridor.
“Clara.”
She stopped.
He looked at her for a long moment.
“I owe you an apology.”
She said nothing.
“My family cost you your job.”
“Your security chief did.”
“On my authority.”
“You didn’t know.”
“That does not erase responsibility.”
Clara studied him.
Vincent continued.
“You entered this house knowing what happened.”
“I knew part of it.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I came to help Matteo.”
“You could have told me.”
“Would you have believed me three weeks ago?”
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Clara gave him a tired smile.
“That’s why.”
She turned to leave.
Vincent said, “Why did you come back at all?”
Clara stopped again.
“When the agency showed me the position and his first name, I thought it was coincidence.”
She looked at Matteo ahead of them.
“Then I saw his photograph.”
“And?”
“I remembered a little boy at St. Catherine’s who thought his father had sent him away.”
Vincent’s face tightened.
“I wanted to know whether he still believed that.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
The answer landed cleanly.
Vincent looked through the doorway at his son.
Matteo was trying to move his toe again beneath the breakfast table.
Gabriel sat beside him pretending not to watch.
Teresa stood farther away.
A family gathered in one room and divided by fourteen months of silence.
Clara walked away.
Vincent looked down.
Something small lay on the carpet near his shoe.
A brass button.
Dark around the edges.
Stamped with the Rossi crest.
He picked it up.
The same buttons decorated his black overcoat.
Except the coat on the dining-room table was missing none.
Vincent turned the button over.
A narrow strip of faded blue thread still clung to the back.
Behind him, Matteo whispered from the breakfast room.
“Dad?”
Vincent looked up.
His son was staring at the button.
“I remember that too.”
May you like
A pause.
“It came off the other coat.”
