Chapter Three

My siblings and I are gathered in the mansion's kitchen, a space that has always offered safety and comfort. The discussion is a hard one, but the warm food and cold drinks make it bearable.

"I've started organizing for Nonna to go into the crypt, like Mom and Dad," Enzo says. I had a feeling that would be his plan, but I already knew I was going to veto the decision. Grazia stays silent.

"Nope," I say quickly, "She needs to be buried next to her husband, the man who helped create this family." Nonna Ginny loved Nonno like it was written in the bloody stars and she would want nothing more than to spend eternity lying next to him.

She often told me their love story, and it was almost sickly sweet. How they managed to bond over their true love for each other while hustling within our dark world has always been difficult for me to comprehend.

Nonno died before the family crypt was started, and it was decided that we would never move him. Sure, Nonna loved my parents, my father was her only son, after all, but they had each other, and that's what I believe Nonna would say.

Enzo sighs, "Luca, when the crypt was bought, everyone agreed to be put in there." Everyone agreed to this after Nonno died, so the argument is non-existent in my eyes.

"Honestly, Nonna always told me she didn't give a crap about what happened after she died because she'd be dead. She told me that as long as the family stays together and continues to look after each other, the rest is up to us." I can feel myself getting too worked up and take a breath to calm down. My siblings aren't the enemy here.

"But then, Luca, doesn't that mean she wouldn't care about going into the crypt?" Grazia interjects in the softest way she knows how.

"There's already a piece of land ready for her, right next to Nonno's grave. The woman gave this family everything she had for most of her life. Marrying into the Baldini clan is no small job. Surely we can give her this one thing?" My voice is getting louder, but I don't mean it to. I just feel so strongly that this is the way to go.

Enzo finally relents. "Fine, Luca. But you know this will ruffle some feathers." The feathers of my aunts, and perhaps a few cousins. I don't give a fuck, though. Their feathers can be as ruffled as they like. None of them spent any time with Nonna. They didn"t visit while she was sick or even call to check up on her. They could take their opinions on the funeral and burial arrangements and shove them up their asses.

I nod in return. "I know, but it"s what Nonna would have wanted, even if she never said so out loud."

My siblings ultimately know that I will fight tooth and nail to ensure our grandmother is laid to rest in the best way we can manage.

***

We organize a lunch memorial, offer a menu of foods that Nonna loved, and everyone is invited. Everyone. That's just how our funerals are.

There"s an abundance of food, an abundance of faces, and an abundance of flowers. Oh, the flowers, there are more black lilies in the mansion than I"ve ever seen in my life. It"s eerie. But the smell must be what heaven smells like—honey and spice.

And there are so many people here, I'm surprised the mansion can fit them all. Every allied family and business associate has made their way to pay their respects. Plus, all of our extended family.

The mansion, once alive with the sounds of business deals and hushed conversations, now hosts a grim affair. We pay our respects, swapping stories of Nonna and how her counsel shaped the paths of many in our family.

The power play subtly shifts as we all reckon with the void left by the woman who used to help us navigate our moral compass. Knowing I won"t hear Nonna"s sharp advice or witness her strategic mind at work leaves a gap that even the darkest corners of our world can"t fill.

Watching my family gather in Nonna's honor brings me some sort of peace, although I can still imagine her being here, calling most of them out on their bullshit.

She was never one to keep quiet just to keep the peace, and yet somehow, no one ever held anything she said against her. She"d always tell me to smile more, and as I look at her casket, I wish I had done so, just for her. There's not much worth smiling about now, though.

The day has gone well so far. My siblings have helped where they can with the plans, and cousins have shown up all week bringing food and filling up the house with welcome distractions.

But I'm tired of seeing new faces. I'm tired of hearing their condolences. I'm just tired. I feel like ever since Enzo called me in Mexico, I've barely slept more than a few hours at a time.

As family and associates leave their blessings, I hear a few of them speaking about Nonna's last few months, many of which I regrettably missed. I've received many hugs today from well-meaning aunts and business associate"s wives.

I end up in the red and gold passageway that leads to the foyer, where I see my brother and sister already fixed, right underneath a portrait of Nonna and Nonno standing in front of the family mansion the very day they bought it.

I walk up to them, wanting to support and comfort them, but the heavy grief in my own chest is hard to navigate.

"Remember that summer when Nonna taught us how to make her infamous cannoli?" I ask them, trying to bring out a good memory on this sad day. It's not my specialty, but they both look like they need it as much as me. "She turned the kitchen into a battlefield of flour."

Enzo"s face lights up, the weight of his grief momentarily replaced by the joy of the recollection. "Yeah, I remember. She insisted we learn the family recipe, said it was a rite of passage."

Grazia, a reminiscent smile on her lips, adds, "She didn"t just teach us to cook; she turned it into a celebration. I can still hear her laughter echoing through the kitchen. I think even Luca laughed that day." She looks at me with a cheeky grin.

I roll my eyes but nod. "And the mess we made? She had us in there cleaning up to opera music, making it seem like part of the fun."

Enzo says, "That day felt so light, unlike the heavier days she often protected us from." He was never fully protected from those heavy days, being the oldest, so he knows what he's talking about when he says it felt lighter.

Grazia, her eyes sparkling with the memory, says, "I remember her saying that traditions are the threads that weave the fabric of a family. That day, we were weaving our own thread."

My siblings and I stand there for a few more minutes, moving our gazes from the portrait to the people in our home. I decide it's time to fill up my glass, the liquor helping to calm my nerves and keep my emotions in check. Every time someone mentions what a sad time this is, I feel a burning sensation in my chest, but it's all I can do to acknowledge them politely and keep going.

Today feels worse than almost any other day I've had to endure in my adult life, but I also know that once everyone has left and the day is over, I'll be left with just my own thoughts—and that's an even scarier realization right now.

I keep hearing about the connection between Nonna Ginny and Emelia. My aunt starts off. "Oh my, Luca, what a shame to lose dear Ginny while you were away and Grazia was busy with school. You must have been so happy to have Emelia here to keep your Nonna company." I nod at her and accept her hug, moving on through the crowd.

But then I hear it from neighbors, from Nonna's bridge club ladies, and even from the doctor's wife, who used to enjoy gossiping sessions with Nonna.

I look over at where Emelia is standing with her father. Perhaps us all chasing her away from helping with arrangements was a mistake, since everyone here seems to back up her story about how close she had gotten with Nonna.

When we were all kids growing up, Emelia followed my sister around like a shadow. Not that her home life was terrible, but she seemed magnetically attracted to our Baldini clan. Her father didn't mind, considering he was more than happy to have the Baldinis as allies.

Grazia had kept Emelia as much to herself as she could. The rest of us would get a glimpse of her now and then, but Grazia was the one dragging Emelia back to her room when she felt like we were giving her friend a little too much attention.

As they reached their late teens, and Emelia became a stunning young woman, I seemed to see them even less. Perhaps that was partly my fault, being away often and working so hard on figuring out my role in the family business.

I had always found Emelia to be a bit of a drama queen, but her being so close to my sister meant I couldn't help but feel protective over her. And she had been there for many of my girlfriend-based heartbreaks, school exam fails, and even a car accident I had, all of which she'd helped me through without ever saying a word to my siblings, especially my sister.

We were not what I'd call friends—I have very few of those—but she had been an integral part of our family, and now perhaps she was an even bigger part of our clan.

If my Nonna had trusted her to be by her side so much during her last months, I have no doubt that she was trustworthy.

Nonna Ginny was a hard woman to please, so Emelia would have had to go through a few tests before she was accepted as Nonna's bedside companion.

Emelia is currently speaking with guests. She's smiling, but there's a definite sadness in her emerald, green eyes.

Her long hair, which I"ve always been fond of, is pulled back into a loose bun with soft brown tendrils hanging loose around her face. It"s as though her striking features are being perfectly framed.

She's in an opulent black gown and has a black lace shawl thrown over her shoulders. She seems a bit overdressed and she"s giving off Wednesday Addams at the ball vibes, but on her it works.

I think about how she came to fetch me when I landed, and cringe just slightly at how I reacted. I was running on very little sleep and barely holding back the tears, but she came to keep me company, and for that, I should have been more grateful.

I've never been one to openly show any sort of emotion really, which is why Grazia always jokes about the few times I've laughed with them.

Looking at Emelia, though, I think about how she's been there for my previous moments of weakness and has never once brought them up or judged me.

If I am going to get through the next few weeks, I may just need her to be around to bring a sense of calm to the chaos that"s about to unfold.