Chapter 68 RóISE

I laugh out loud at the post Fiona put up on the family social media app.

Rambo has started living up to his name. He's taken over for Pusheen and is jumping on the soldiers' heads from high perches.

The latest picture Fiona posted shows the cat sitting on the face of a soldier knocked flat on his back. It must have been quite a jump.

This isn't the only picture Fiona posted of Rambo's new pastime. I scroll through giggling.

Everyone has posted comments on them. Everyone but Aria.

Enough is enough. Miceli says that trust has to start somewhere. Maybe if I start trusting his mom, she'll learn she can trust me.

It worked for Miceli with me, didn't it?

I scroll through my contacts and tap on Aria's phone number, calling before I have a chance to chicken out.

When Aria answers, I don't waste time on pleasantries. Moma wouldn't be happy, but sometimes polite behavior just gets in the way.

"We need to talk, Aria. Can you come over today?" I don't identify myself.

She has my number even if she doesn't want to use it.

"I'm not sure I have an opening in my schedule," is her stiff reply.

Refusing to be daunted by her cool demeanor, I ask, "When would be a good time?"

"Well… " The sound of a sigh over the line. "Yes, in fact this afternoon is available. What time would you like me to come over?"

"Would 4 o'clock work? "

"Yes. I'll be there."

I rush around getting things ready, making sure I have both Italian and Irish pastries on hand to go with the coffee. I deliberately mix them on the plate, so it's not like Irish on one side and Italian on the other.

Will she notice the subtle message?

Aria arrives promptly at 4 o'clock and I show her into the living room. She does not have access to the penthouse and I have to let her up.

Miceli did that. Did he know I would invite his mom over one day and need that extra reminder that this is my home?

I pour her coffee and she asks about plans for the wedding. I tell her the things moma and I have discussed. It's probably not anything Aria doesn't already know.

Moma is keeping her in the loop and asking for Aria's opinion on things she thinks will matter to the former don's wife.

So, really this is just stalling.

"Here's the thing, Aria," I dive in bluntly. "I know you lost someone to hostilities between the Bonanno Family and the Shaughnessy mob."

"It was my brother. My baby brother." Old grief creases the fine lines of her face. "He had just gotten made and then he was gone."

"I am truly sorry for your loss."

Aria nods. "Thank you. I know you lost your mother to another flare up between the families many years later."

"She was gunned down in front of me." I don't sugarcoat it.

There's no point. Aria knows what happened.

"Can you imagine how hard it was for me to even contemplate this marriage with your son."

"Better than most. But all the strife, the conflict, it's because of you stubborn Irish."

I could blow up, but that wouldn't accomplish anything. Build trust, I remind myself.

Aria wrings her hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Maybe not, but hiding behind manners isn't going to solve the issue between us."

"It's just…I'll never understand why your family won't sell those properties to the Bonannos." Aria snaps her mouth shut.

Like she's said too much. Like I don't know exactly what the source of the tension between the two syndicates is.

"If my uncle asked your son to sell the De Luca apartment building to him because it is technically in our territory, would you expect Severu to do it?"

"Of course not. We have over a century of history there. "

"How old do you think the Queens properties are?"

Aria puts her cup down without taking the drink she planned to. "I don't know."

"The first of the Shaughnessy clan came over in 1869. More of the clan emigrated over the next decade. They weren't alone, other clans like them came too."

"Like them in what way?" Aria sounds curious in spite of herself.

"They were not law-abiding citizens. They flouted the laws and what they saw as the tyranny of the wealthy back in Ireland. They did the same when they came to America, forming mobs, some still connected to those in the Old Country ."

"Are you trying to point out we have a similar history?" Aria asks.

"Yes. The warehouse the Bonanno don wants so badly is on the first tract of land my ancestors purchased in New York."

"So you're saying sentimentality keeps them from selling the warehouse?"

"No. Necessity. Not many years after they bought the land that the warehouse is on, they purchased the land to build an apartment building where they could all live. Which they did. They added a second apartment building a couple of years later."

"How interesting," Aria says, but her eyes are glazing over.

"I'm not a great storyteller, unless it's someone else's story written down for me," I admit. "The point is that they had three buildings, not far from each other in the middle of Queens."

"What are you trying to say?"

It's all about the Bunker. Telling Aria about it is a risk, but like Miceli says, trust has to start somewhere.

"The agreement between the Cosa Nostra and our family to operate different major criminal enterprises in New York is supposed to keep peace between the syndicates."

"I am aware of that." Aria sounds a little snippy and I like her more for it.

The perfect persona she presents to the world isn't the woman in the portraits her husband painted.

"I don't know what happened when your brother died, but twelve years ago, the Bonanno don decided he wanted to get into the weapons trade and he wanted our warehouse to store them."

"I didn't know that."

"And what your former don didn't know was that even if my grandfather had been willing to allow him to horn in on the weapons trade, he would never sell any of the properties in Queens."

"But why?" she asks in a voice laced with old anguish .

"Because those buildings are connected by a warren of tunnels and storage rooms impervious to being spied on and in over one-hundred years, have never been found and raided by the FEDs."

Aria's eyes widen in understanding. "Those properties aren't just a piece of Shaughnessy history, but that's where you store the things that are most important to your mob."

"People are the most important thing to any mob, or mafia. You can't build an empire on things, only with people. But you're right, we can't sell those buildings without giving those spaces up and they are important."

"I can't believe you're telling me this. What if I pass the information on to the Bonanno don?"

"You won't," I say with conviction. "You have too much integrity."

"You can't know that."

I can because she raised Miceli. "Your son told me once that trust has to start somewhere. And he trusted me with something very important to him."

"Is that how you reconciled yourself to your coming marriage?"

"It's part of it." A big part. I couldn't love Miceli if I didn't trust him.

"One of the things he trusted me with is the family social media app."

"I know."

"If you never unblock me from your feed, I'm okay with that, Aria. I can promise I'll never betray Miceli or my new family, but that's all I can do. Is promise."

Aria nods. "It should be enough."

But I don't agree. "You know how you said that you understand better than anybody how hard it was for me to agree to marry into the Italian mafia and give birth to a child that would become one of them?"

She nods again.

"Well, I understand better than anybody too how hard it is for you to accept me. So, let's just start by getting to know each other, okay?"

"You know a lot about your family's business…" She lets her voice trail off. I smile.

"For a woman?" I ask. " Mamo says women in the underworld have to hoard information."

"My daughter-in-law would agree with her."

"Catalina is pretty great."

"She likes you too."

"I'm glad." One day maybe Aria will be able to say the same thing .

"Miceli says that if I spend time with you, I won't be able to help but like you," Aria takes a bite of one of the Irish soda bread cookies. "My son is a wiser man than I give him credit for."