Page 48 of Letters From Victor

My heart skipped.

“No,” I said, perhaps too quickly. “The neighbors would talk.”

Victor chuckled a low, knowing rumble. “Let them. But if it concerns you that much…” He trailed off, considering. “There’s a small diner not far from you—Hanson’s on Wilshire and Fairfax. You know it?”

I pictured the intersection in my mind—bustling streets lined with palm trees and sun-bleached storefront façades. “Hanson’s—sure I know it.”

“The owner is a friend of mine. He’s got a discreet room in the back where we can meet privately. You could take the bus.”

My heart warred against my better judgment. The risks were obvious, but so was the pull toward the life he represented. “I suppose that could work,” I conceded. “But I’ll have Frankie with me. I can’t call my sister on such short notice.”

“I’d love to meet the tyke. Let’s say two-thirty?”

I let out a shaky breath and nodded. Realizing that he couldn’t see me, I murmured, “Perfect. See you then.”

“Wonderful,” Victor said, warmth curling around his words. “Until then, my darling.”

“The wheels on the bus go round and round.” I took Frankie’s hands in mine, guiding them in little circles in the air as we sang softly. His giggles bubbled up like a fountain, pulling a smile from me despite the tight knot in my stomach.

The bus jostled us as it turned a corner, and I held Frankie closer, kissing the top of his tousled hair. Outside the window, familiar streets passed by in a blur. We were getting closer, and my heart started to race.

Frankie pointed out the window. “Look, Mama! A big dog!”

Sure enough, a shaggy mutt trotted down the sidewalk, bushy tail wagging.

“Woof woof!” Frankie beamed, bouncing on my lap. Enthusiasm spread across his face and lit up his eyes.

I smoothed his hair. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

The intersection of Wilshire and Fairfax came into view, and I tugged the cord above the window. The bus began to slow, and the brakes hissed as we pulled up to the curb.

“Almost there, darling,” I told Frankie, adjusting him on my hip as we stood and made our way to the front of the bus. The driver eased the door open, and we stepped out into the bright afternoon sun. I shaded my eyes and looked toward the diner.

“Mommy has to see a friend real quick,” I said as I set Frankie down on his stout little legs and took his hand in mine. As we walked, I continued, “It won’t take long. Then we’ll get ice cream.”

Frankie squealed with delight as he curled his fingers around mine. “Okay, Mama.”

I took a deep breath, forcing my nerves into check, and led him toward the diner.

A bell tinkled overhead as I pushed open the door. The diner gleamed with chrome and turquoise vinyl, its long counter lined with swivel stools. A jukebox in the corner crackled out a scratchy rendition of “Bewitched,” and the thick scent of bacon grease and griddled beef clung to the air. I scanned the room and saw no immediately familiar faces.

A stout man with a thick mustache approached, wiping his hands on a grease-streaked apron. “Can I help you, miss?”

I shifted Frankie closer, scanning the room again. “We’re meeting someone.”

The man gave a slight nod, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His breath reeked of garbage, and I fought the urge to lean away as his voice rattled like crumpled newspaper.

“If you’re looking for Mr. Cardello, he’s in the back. Follow me.”

He led us past the counter, through a swinging door, and into a small room with a single booth. The walls were lined with framed photographs, their edges yellowed and curling fromyears of heat rolling off the kitchen. A rickety ceiling fan spun overhead, stirring the thick air into sluggish ripples.

Victor stood as we entered. His tall frame cast a long shadow over the booth, the soft glow of the overhead bulb catching on the sharp cut of his charcoal-gray suit. His dark hair was slicked to a perfect shine.

“Barbara,” he greeted smoothly, stretching out an arm to take my hand. He kissed it lightly, sending an electric jolt skittering across my skin as he locked his intense eyes with mine. He bent down to Frankie. “And this must be Frank. Hello, young man.”

I placed a hand on my son’s shoulder. “Say hello, Frankie.”

Frankie looked up at Victor with curious eyes. “Hello.”

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