Page 25 of Que Será, Syrah

“That’s…actually a fair point,” Vitto concedes after an awkward moment of silence. “There are a lot of things like that, aren’t there? Things the whole family knows, but which are never discussed.”

“You’re not wrong,” Gianni agrees ruefully.

Even Leo reluctantly nods. “No, you’re not. ‘We’ll never tell’ might as well be the family motto.”

“We should get matching tattoos,” I say, before anyone else can suggest it.

But even as they’re agreeing with me, I find myself wondering. How much of what I just said is true? And was that really the only reason I never said anything? Memories surface. I remember I was home the day James Davenport came to the house to talk to Nonna about the new will she wanted him to make for her. I remember how he’d argued with her, advocating for greater transparency. And then how he’d questioned me, asking what I thought of my grandmother’s plan, and which of us had originally suggested the idea…

* * *

“Jimmy, stop badgering the child,” Nonna had scolded. “Do you really think I’m so weak-willed, that I don’t know my own mind? The decision is mine. And the idea for it was mine. If anyone influenced my decision, it was my son. Allegra had nothing to do with it.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Think about it, Carmela. You do want me ‘badgering’ her. Because when—God forbid—the time comes, you want me to be able to testify—under oath, if need be—that I spoke with you both and that I was satisfied that you were acting on your own cognizance. And if I predecease you, my successor will need the records I leave behind to make sure your wishes are carried out. Otherwise?—”

“Basta,” Nonna said fretfully. “No more. Stop it now. I’ve made my decision, and that’s enough. I don’t want to think about this anymore. It’s too depressing.”

“I know,” Jimmy sighed. “This is hard for you. And you’ve already suffered so much loss. But it’s my job to think about these things for you, cara. There’s a great deal of money involved, after all. And if you don’t think questions of mental soundness and undue influence are going to be raised, you’re fooling yourself.”

* * *

So yeah, maybe there had been other reasons why I hadn’t wanted to talk about it—and why I’m wishing I hadn’t said anything about it now. Because of course everyone is going to assume that it was my idea, that I’d somehow manipulated Nonna. And maybe I was also afraid that if anyone found out ahead of time that they’d try and talk her out of it.

“For what it’s worth,” I tell them. “I’m sorry that you were all blindsided. And I understand why Geno in particular would be upset about that. But did he really have to involve the Sheriff’s department and file a bunch of sketchy complaints against my sisters? What’s up with that? That’s low. That doesn’t help anyone.”

Another silence falls over the cousins—deeper and somehow even more awkward than the ones that came before. And I find myself wondering if I’ve somehow stepped in it again?

“You probably should know,” Leo says at last. “That Geno denies having made those calls.”

“Do you believe him?” I ask—this time directing the question at all of them.

No one answers at first. Finally, Leo shrugs and says, “We don’t not believe him.”

I stare blankly at him. What does that even mean?

“Look, someone’s obviously been working over-time trying to cause trouble for you and your sisters,” he continues. “And we know Geno was responsible for some of it. But the complaints…that doesn’t have to be him, too, right? It could be someone else.”

“I…guess?” I’m still confused because who else could it be? And I’m about half a second from asking, when I notice the uncomfortable expressions on all three of my cousins’ faces, the way they’re all very carefully not looking at each other. And I change my mind.

I allow the conversational ball to drop, dip a piece of artichoke into some parmesan aioli and spend a few moments stuffing my face while I consider what it all might mean.

Do they suspect each other? Is that what’s going on here? Are they trying to protect the guilty party? Or do I have it all wrong again? Maybe Geno was the master mind behind the calls, but someone else actually made them. Could my Aunt Janet be involved?

“All we really know, at this point,” Vitto says, picking up the conversational ball. “Is that someone’s been causing problems for Caparelli. Which has caused problems for Belmonte, as well. Would Geno really not have thought of that beforehand? It’s hard to tell. I suppose it’s possible that there never were any calls. Maybe that deputy— Romero, isn’t it? —is making the whole thing up, for some reason of his own. But that doesn’t seem too likely, either, does it?”

“I dunno about that,” Gianni says, shooting a scowl at something—possibly someone—over my shoulder. “You have to admit it’s a little weird the way he keeps popping up. Seems like everywhere any of us go, there he is. Why’s he gotta keep sticking his nose in where it don’t belong? Why can’t he just mind his own business and stay out of our way?”

“Theoretically, it is his business,” Leo says. “He’s in law enforcement. If someone’s making complaints he has to follow up, doesn’t he?”

“Does he?” Gianni claps back. “Why? This shit’s been going on for months. He’s gotta know by now that someone’s just capping on him. Why’s he wanna waste time and taxpayer dollars on this shit? Doesn’t he have anything better to do than follow us around and harass us?”

Leo, seated next to Gianni, glances across the room and shrugs. “Well, it doesn’t look like it, does it?”

“Speaking of which,” I say. “Do any of you happen to know his first name?”

“Whose name?” Gianni asks. “Romero’s? No. Why?”

“No reason.” I shrug. “Just curious.”

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