Page 18 of Blood Money

Warily, I opened the flap, which was tucked in and not sealed, and I about fell over. Thumbing through it, I counted a grand in hundred-dollar bills.Fucking hell, Nonna is going senile.I needed to ask the doctors if there were signs of a stroke. Anything that could explain why she accidentally put a thousand dollars in cash in a customer’s order.

I closed the box back up and pressed a hand over my heart. The door jingled, and I quickly shoved the envelope under a stack of pastry tissues. No one needed to see that much cash just lying around. As I spun, I pasted a bright smile on my face.

A man in a suit was approaching the counter as he was talking on his phone. “Yeah, I know. I’m running a little behind. I’m at the bakery place now. I’ll be there soon.”

“Can I help you?” I asked, my heart beating double time against my ribs.

“Yeah, I have an order for Spinelli.” The guy didn’t even make eye contact, too busy glancing at his watch and then tapping away on his phone.

I breathed a sigh of relief that I’d thought to look at the cake before he arrived. “Of course. I have it right here.” I swooped up the customer’s box and set it in front of him. “I just need you to sign for it here,” I instructed as I pointed to the order slip taped to the top. Carefully, I peeled it off and set it and a pen on the granite counter in front of him.

He scrawled an illegible signature, then lifted the lid, snorted a laugh, and closed it again. “Thanks, babe,” he said with a wink and a smirk.

As he walked out, my lip curled.Ew. Then I scurried around the counter and locked the front door as I flipped the sign to Closed. I snagged the envelope and shut off the lights. With the money in hand, I went into the office and locked it in the safe, then covered it with the canvas print of my grandparents on their wedding day. Once I was satisfied it was straight, I used the spiral staircase to go up to the apartment. Since I was already in the office, it made sense. Truth was the sun was going down, and I hated using the outdoor stairs in the alley after sundown.

Using my spare key, I unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and went into my grandma’s apartment. The scent of cinnamon apples hit me the second I went in, transporting me back to my younger years.

And that summer.

That familiar shaft of pain nearly crippled me, and I hated that after almost ten years, it could still do that. At twenty-six, I shouldn’t still be grieving over the heartbreak of sixteen-year-old me. Too bad a deep breath did little to alleviate the ache in my chest.

Doing my best to shake it off, I went into my grandmother’s room and grabbed an oversized makeup bag from under her bathroom sink to pack the things she’d texted me about, asking me to bring back for her.

With brisk motions, I efficiently placed everything inside and zipped it closed. As I passed the spare bedroom I’d called mine that summer, I paused. It was a bad idea. Yet a little part of me needed to see it again. I didn’t know why.

When I placed my hand on the knob, I closed my eyes. No matter how much I told myself I could handle turning the worn brass, my fingers only shook before I let it go as if it were on fire.

I’d never told my parents why I didn’t come back for years after that summer. Thank goodness they never asked. And I’d lied to my nonna about why I wanted to switch to the smaller, original guest room to sleep when I finally came back. She thought I didn’t like the sun waking me up in the mornings because it shone through the big window in my mom’s old room.

“Stupid girl,” I cursed my sixteen-year-old-self and left the apartment. The metal treads rattled as I rushed down, the downward spiral matching my feelings.

By the time I got back to the hospital, I had my emotions under control.

Mostly.

“Sprite,” Nonna fondly whispered when I entered her room. She looked like she had a little more color than when I’d left.

Tears welled at her childhood pet name for me, but I blinked them away. I placed her things on the rolling table that was in front of her and leaned down to kiss her satin-soft, wrinkled cheek.

“Hey, Nonna. How are you feeling?” I murmured as I lightly trailed my fingers along her hairline and down her cheek. It was like I needed to touch her to prove to myself that she was still with us.

“Eh, I’m all right. Too many people panicking. I’m ready to go home,” she gruffly replied.

“What did the doctors say?” I asked her, already knowing the answer.

She huffed but didn’t answer.

“Nonna,” I admonished.

“Fine. He said another day at least, and no more Negronis. I’m going to have fluid restrictions, more walking, and those damn pills that make me piss all day,” she grumbled.

“Nonna, you said you were gonna do that last time,” I said with a groan as I sat in the chair by her bed.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know everything,” she muttered, and I palmed my face.

“They know what you need to do to stay healthy,” I argued and let my hand fall to my lap.

“Humph! I’m in heart failure. I’m not gonna be healthy.” She scowled as she smoothed the blanket over her lap.

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