Chapter 11 - THE THANKSGIVING MEAL
At exactly noon, a black town car pulled up the long driveway of the Russo estate. I stood on the front steps, not wearing my black-and-white uniform, but a beautiful navy blue dress I had bought years ago and never had a reason to wear. Dominic stood beside me, looking relaxed in a simple sweater. The car door opened. Sofia stepped out. She was seventeen, bright-eyed, and radiating the kind of innocent joy that Dominic had fought so hard to protect. She ran up the steps and threw her arms around her father. “Dad!” she laughed. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” Dominic smiled, holding her tight. Sofia pulled back and looked at me. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Maria? You look beautiful! Are you a guest today?” I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. “Yes, Sofia. I am.” She didn’t hesitate. She hugged me just as tightly as she had hugged her father. “I’m so glad,” she whispered. We walked into the grand dining room. The long mahogany table, which had been the site of so much chaos and betrayal just twenty-four hours earlier, was set for three. The crystal sparkled. The white roses smelled sweet. There was no Evelyn. There was no Carla. Just a father, his daughter, and the woman who had watched them both grow up. We sat down. The new catering staff brought out the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the gravy. I didn’t pour it. I just passed the silver boat to Sofia. Dominic raised his glass of wine. “To family,” Dominic said, looking directly at me. “The one you’re born with, and the one you choose.” “To family,” Sofia echoed, clinking her glass against mine. I took a sip of the wine. It tasted sweeter than anything I had ever had.
