Chapter 7 - THE LAST WORDS ON TAPE
“His last words?”
Teresa's voice trembled.
Michael Hart looked at her kindly.
“The final part of the message. I don't know yet how much has been damaged.”
Teresa stared at the cassette.
“That's where he says he loves me.”
Michael nodded.
“I understand.”
She pressed her hand against her chest.
“Please tell me you can save that part.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Mr. Hart, whatever equipment you need—”
Michael gently raised a hand.
“Mr. Moretti, the cost isn't the problem.”
Luca stopped.
“The tape is very old. Once it gets stretched or creased, we can't always recover the sound underneath.”
He looked toward Teresa.
“I won't promise something I can't guarantee.”
She nodded slowly.
“I appreciate that.”
Michael opened his case.
Inside were small tools, empty cassette shells, splicing materials, and a compact audio player.
He asked Mrs. Carter to clear a section of the sideboard.
Then he carefully laid out the damaged pieces.
I stood nearby.
I remembered Vanessa pulling the tape around her finger.
The way it had caught against her diamond bracelet.
The thin ribbon stretching as she tugged harder.
I spoke before I could lose my nerve.
“Mr. Hart?”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“The tape caught on a bracelet before it was cut.”
His eyes moved toward me.
“Was it pulled tight?”
“Yes.”
“How tight?”
I swallowed.
“Enough that I thought it might snap.”
Michael looked down at the creased section.
“That explains the damage.”
Vanessa shifted uncomfortably.
I could feel her watching me.
But I kept my eyes on Michael.
“What happens now?”
“I can splice the clean cut. The stretched section is harder. I'll inspect it and make a transfer before trying anything unnecessary.”
Teresa frowned.
“A transfer?”
“A digital copy, if the recording can still be played.”
Her eyes brightened.
“So I wouldn't have to keep using the old machine?”
“That's right.”
She looked toward Luca.
“That would be nice.”
Luca nodded.
“We should have done it years ago.”
Teresa gave him a sad smile.
“I was frightened somebody would break it.”
Nobody answered.
Because that was exactly what had happened.
Michael began working.
He asked for quiet.
Luca invited the guests to finish their dinner or leave whenever they wished.
Several quietly excused themselves.
Others remained, including Peter Romano, who sat beside Teresa and reminded her of the time Antonio had tried to repair his neighbor's lawn mower and accidentally made it run backward.
Teresa laughed.
“He was furious with himself.”
Peter grinned.
“Then he charged me five dollars for teaching him something.”
For a few minutes, I watched her smile without worrying about the cassette.
It felt like a small gift.
Then Vanessa approached the sideboard.
“Mr. Hart,” she asked, “is there really no way to replace the damaged section?”
He looked up.
“Replace it with what?”
“A copy. Another recording. Something.”
Michael studied her.
“Do you have another copy?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No.”
“Then there's nothing to replace it with.”
She pressed her lips together.
“I see.”
He returned to his work.
Vanessa remained standing beside him.
Finally, she whispered, “I didn't think the sound could disappear forever.”
Teresa heard her.
Neither woman spoke.
I wondered whether Vanessa had finally understood what she'd done.
But understanding something after destroying it didn't put it back together.
Luca came to stand beside me.
“Emily.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You stayed with my mother when the recording was broken?”
I nodded.
“She was frightened.”
He looked at Teresa.
“Thank you.”
I lowered my eyes.
“I wish I'd stopped it.”
“You tried.”
“Not hard enough.”
Luca shook his head.
“Vanessa was the one holding the scissors.”
I swallowed.
“I kept thinking if I said one more thing, she'd fire me.”
His expression tightened.
“Did she threaten you before tonight?”
I hesitated.
There had been smaller moments.
Being warned not to contradict her.
Having my afternoon breaks shortened after defending Teresa.
Being told I should remember that good positions were difficult to find.
I had convinced myself those things were ordinary problems at work.
Now I wasn't so sure.
“She'd reminded me several times that she controlled the schedule,” I admitted.
Luca looked ashamed.
“I gave her that responsibility.”
I said nothing.
“I should have paid attention to what she was doing with it.”
He wasn't asking me to comfort him.
That made it easier to speak.
“Mr. Moretti, most of us thought you'd already approved her decisions.”
He looked toward Mrs. Carter.
She was standing near the doorway, holding the evening's service book.
Luca called her over.
“Mrs. Carter, who's responsible for the staff schedule?”
She hesitated.
“Miss Bellini has been approving the final changes.”
“And if someone disagreed?”
“We were expected to follow her instructions.”
“Even when they affected someone's job?”
Mrs. Carter looked down.
“I'm afraid so.”
Luca rubbed his forehead.
“What about Emily's schedule?”
Mrs. Carter didn't answer.
I felt a strange coldness in my stomach.
Luca noticed.
“Mrs. Carter?”
She opened the service book.
Then hesitated again.
“Miss Bellini made some adjustments this afternoon.”
Vanessa turned sharply.
“Those are private staffing matters.”
Luca looked at her.
“Not anymore.”
Mrs. Carter slowly opened the folded weekly roster.
I could see my name halfway down the page.
Emily Parker.
Monday through Friday.
Morning service.
Dinner preparation.
Then a dark line drawn through every shift.
My heart began pounding.
I had worked those hours for almost three years.
I had never requested time off.
Luca took the schedule.
He looked at the crossed-out name.
Then at the small handwritten note beside it.
REMOVE FROM ROTATION — EFFECTIVE TOMORROW.
He raised his head.
“Emily?”
I couldn't answer.
May you like
Then he turned toward Vanessa.
“Why was she being dismissed before she ever told me the truth?”
