Chapter 7 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN'T HERS
“Forged?”
Teresa looked at the paper in disbelief.
Nora Pierce nodded.
“Mrs. Hart believes she purchased the ring legally. She doesn't want to return it to someone who might not be the rightful owner.”
Luca stared at the signature.
“The rightful owner is sitting right here.”
“I understand that.”
Nora's voice remained calm.
“But Mrs. Hart has been given conflicting information.”
Celia folded her arms.
“This is becoming unnecessarily complicated.”
Luca turned toward her.
“You submitted my mother's signature.”
“I provided paperwork.”
“Paperwork bearing a signature she didn't write.”
Celia looked away.
Vanessa stepped toward her mother.
“Did you sign Teresa's name?”
Celia didn't answer.
“Mom.”
Finally, she whispered, “I copied it.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
Luca's expression hardened.
“From what?”
Celia hesitated.
“An invitation.”
I felt sick.
On Monday, Teresa had signed several invitations for a family luncheon.
I remembered helping her steady the pen.
She'd complained that her handwriting no longer looked elegant.
I'd told her the recipients would be pleased simply to receive something she'd written personally.
Now someone had used that kindness against her.
Luca stared at Celia.
“You copied my mother's signature from an invitation?”
She nodded.
“I thought it would make the paperwork easier.”
“Easier for whom?”
Celia began crying.
“For Vanessa.”
Vanessa took a step backward.
“Don't put this on me.”
Celia looked wounded.
“Sweetheart, I was trying to help.”
“No.”
Vanessa's voice trembled.
“You told me the rings were safe.”
“They were.”
“Until you sold one.”
Celia couldn't answer.
Vanessa shook her head.
“I asked you to help arrange the jewelry. I never asked you to forge anybody's signature.”
Luca looked at her.
“You asked for the rings to be melted.”
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Knowing my mother had refused.”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“So don't confuse what your mother did with what you did.”
Vanessa began crying.
“I know.”
For a moment, I thought Celia might defend herself again.
Instead, she sat down.
Her shoulders sagged.
“I've spent so many years trying to make things look better than they are.”
Teresa watched her quietly.
Celia wiped her cheeks.
“When Vanessa was little, her father left us with bills I didn't know how to pay.”
Vanessa looked up.
“Mom?”
“I told everybody he was traveling.”
She gave a sad laugh.
“I told the neighbors we were doing wonderfully.”
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“You told me the same thing.”
“I know.”
Celia looked toward her daughter.
“I thought if people believed we were respectable, they wouldn't ask questions.”
She paused.
“Then I watched you grow up believing being respected meant never admitting you needed anything.”
Vanessa lowered her head.
“I learned it from you.”
Celia nodded.
“Yes.”
The words seemed terribly difficult for her to say.
But she said them.
Teresa spoke softly.
“Pride can keep a person standing when life gets hard.”
Celia looked toward her.
“But sometimes it keeps you from reaching for the people who love you.”
The two women sat in silence.
Then Luca spoke.
“Mrs. Bellini, whatever you've been through, you don't get to take my mother's belongings.”
Celia nodded.
“I understand.”
“And you don't get to use an employee's name to make the transaction look legitimate.”
She looked toward me.
For the first time, she seemed to see me as a person rather than someone standing beside the furniture.
“Hannah.”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes, ma'am?”
“I shouldn't have used your name.”
I looked at her.
“No, ma'am. You shouldn't have.”
She swallowed.
“I'm sorry.”
I didn't know what to say.
I wanted to believe she meant it.
But the previous evening, she'd suggested I might be confused about signing paperwork I'd never seen.
My father still needed medication.
My mother still worried about bills.
A false accusation could've cost me far more than an evening's wages.
Finally, I said, “I appreciate the apology. But I need it made clear to everyone involved that I didn't authorize anything.”
Luca nodded.
“It will be.”
Then he looked at Celia.
“In writing. To both businesses.”
Celia lowered her eyes.
“Yes.”
Nora returned to the paperwork.
“I'll make sure Eastgate corrects its records.”
Luca turned toward her.
“And the sale?”
“I'll explain the situation to Mrs. Hart.”
Teresa looked up.
“Would it help if I spoke to her?”
Nora hesitated.
“I think it might.”
Luca shook his head.
“Mom, you shouldn't have to defend yourself.”
Teresa touched his arm.
“Sweetheart, I know.”
Then she smiled sadly.
“But that woman doesn't know me.”
She looked toward Nora.
“And she may have bought the ring because it reminded her of someone she loved.”
Nora's expression softened.
“That's possible.”
Teresa nodded.
“Then perhaps we can talk.”
I watched Luca study his mother.
He looked worried.
Protective.
But he didn't interrupt.
For so much of the evening, people had made decisions about Teresa without asking what she wanted.
Now she was asking to speak for herself.
That mattered.
Later, when Nora had gone, I helped Teresa settle into her chair beside the fireplace in the adjoining sitting room.
She held Antonio's recovered wedding band against her palm.
Luca sat nearby.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Teresa looked toward me.
“Hannah, do you think I'm being foolish?”
I sat beside her.
“About what?”
“Wanting to speak to the woman who bought my ring.”
“No, ma'am.”
She smiled faintly.
“I've been thinking about how much trouble everyone has gone through.”
I shook my head.
“Mrs. Moretti, you didn't cause this trouble.”
“I know.”
She looked down.
“But sometimes being old makes you feel as though everything you need is an inconvenience.”
Luca immediately moved closer.
“Mom.”
She touched his hand.
“I'm not saying you make me feel that way.”
Her voice softened.
“I'm saying it's a feeling you have to fight.”
He nodded.
Then she looked at Antonio's ring.
“Your father and I didn't have much money.”
“I know.”
“But we always had enough for a little celebration on our anniversary.”
She smiled.
“One year, he couldn't afford dinner out, so he made spaghetti.”
Luca laughed softly.
“Dad couldn't cook.”
“Oh, it was terrible.”
Teresa laughed through her tears.
“He burned the garlic and dropped the noodles.”
She looked at the ring.
“But we ate every bite.”
For a moment, the sitting room felt warm again.
Then Mrs. Carter entered carrying a small velvet pouch.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
Teresa looked up.
“Yes, Helen?”
“Martin Vale sent the remaining jewelry back with Daniel.”
She placed the pouch on the table.
Inside were the anniversary bracelet, Luca's first-paycheck necklace, and the little gold locket.
Teresa reached for them.
Her eyes filled.
“Oh, thank goodness.”
I helped her fasten the necklace.
Luca put the bracelet around her wrist.
Then he opened the locket.
Inside was the tiny photograph of himself as a baby.
He smiled.
“Mom, you still have this?”
She laughed softly.
“Of course.”
“It's a terrible picture.”
“You were beautiful.”
“I had no hair.”
“You had plenty of personality.”
He laughed.
Then he turned the locket over.
His expression changed.
“Mom?”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
“Why is the back scratched?”
Teresa frowned.
“What?”
Luca held it toward the light.
A fresh mark ran across the gold near the clasp.
I leaned closer.
The surface looked as though someone had tried to remove an engraving.
Teresa went still.
“That wasn't there before.”
Luca slowly turned toward Vanessa, who had come to collect her belongings.
“Did you tell the jeweler to alter this?”
Vanessa looked at the locket.
Her face changed.
“No.”
Celia appeared behind her.
And for the first time, I saw genuine fear cross her face.
Because the engraving on that locket hadn't merely been damaged.
May you like
Someone had deliberately tried to erase the words Antonio had placed there.
And Celia knew why.
