Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I know you’ll do a good job running this place. Whenever you’re ready, let me know what you need, and we’ll get to work.”
“I need some time. I feel like we should have a funeral.” My father had a lot of friends in a lot of places. For a reserved man, he was quite social. Maybe it was just about networking, but he seemed to care about everyone he mingled with. Remembered the names of their children and even their grandchildren. To him, business and friendship went hand in hand.
“Yeah, we should,” he said. “Maybe we can do it here. People can pay their respects at his grave, and then we can have dinner on the terrace like we used to. I think he would like that.”
“Yeah, I do too.”
He moved a little closer to me and pressed his hand on my shoulder. “You know I’m here for you, Frankie. Whatever you need, I’m your man.”
“Thank you, Elio.”
He squeezed me before he let go. Then he walked off.
“Baby.”
I looked behind me and saw Wolfe appear at the top of the stairs. He was in his dark jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, the skin of his neck glistening from the sweat. He’d probably been working all morning getting this place back in shape.
He came down the stairs but didn’t kiss me like he normally would. He seemed distant, like he wanted to give me space after the hard day I’d had yesterday. His eyes flicked back and forth as he took in my appearance, seeing the despair I didn’t try to hide. “You should eat something.”
“Not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten in over a day.”
I usually got a headache when I fasted too long, but apparently my body had shut down in the sadness.
“Come on,” he said as he nodded toward the terrace. “At least have some coffee and a couple pastries.”
I didn’t want to fight it. I also didn’t know what else to do with myself at the moment. My brain was in a fog, and I couldn’t think beyond the present.
His hand moved to the small of my back, and he escorted me to the terrace. He pulled out the chair for me under the umbrella and helped me sit before he walked to the kitchen in the house. He returned a moment later with a cappuccino and a basket of pastries, a pistachio croissant, biscotti, brioche with a cup of mulberry granita.
“A couple things…or a buffet.”
He smirked at the joke. “I told you food would make you feel better.”
I tore off the brioche and spooned the granita onto the bread before I put it in my mouth, the cool touch perfect against the warm bread. I still wasn’t hungry, but I definitely felt better when the food hit my stomach.
Wolfe relaxed in the chair, his arm draped over the back of another chair as he took in the surroundings and me. He didn’t ask me a lot of questions, just let me sit there and enjoy my food in comfortable silence.
I picked at everything in the basket but never ate an entire pastry. My coffee cup was empty, but the caffeine didn’t have the same effect it normally did.
Wolfe stared at me with a discerning gaze.
“I want to have a funeral for him.”
“We can do that.”
“Elio said it should be here since this is where he’s buried.”
Wolfe nodded.
“Do you know where he’s buried?”
Wolfe turned his head and looked at the oak tree far into the distance. “Under the tree.”
I followed his gaze and could make out the stone cross against the base of the tree. I imagined it had his name engraved in it. “Well, at least Leo did right by him.”
“Leo didn’t do that,” he said. “I did.”
I turned back to look at him.
“He didn’t have a proper burial before.” Wolfe met my gaze.
I didn’t ask for details because I didn’t want to know. I’d told myself whatever happened to his body didn’t matter because my father’s soul had left his body the moment he’d been shot. But it still hurt to think…about the possibilities. “Thank—thank you for doing that.”
“He was a good man. He deserves to be remembered.”
My eyes were able to well with tears, but I blinked them back. “Can you take me to see him?”
His eyes filled with a distinct look of sadness as he regarded me. “Of course, baby.” He left his chair and took my hand, and together, we walked down the path to the oak tree in the near distance. The canopy was full of leaves, and the sound of birds singing grew more audible as we drew near.
The headstone came into closer view. I could see my father’s name written from one side of the cross to the other, and then the shaft of the cross showed his date of birth and his date of death. The mound was still slightly elevated from the ground because the grave was fresh.