V Is for Vengeance

a loss no parent should have to bear and nothing will make up for it. But Phillip’s dead either way. At least you know now he didn’t die through any will of his own.”
    “Enough. You’ve had your say. Now get away from me. I’m tired.”
    “Hell, Nora. We’re all tired.”
    She closed the door. He stood on her doorstep for one minute more and then he turned and went back to his car.
    He thought their conversation was the low point of his day, but there was worse in store. When he reached home, the upstairs rooms were dark. Lights in the kitchen, dining room, and living room were ablaze, but there was nothing cheery waiting for him. Lola was long gone. He left his car in the driveway for Tomasso to put in the garage and entered the house through the front door. He was relieved to see there was no sign of his father. He went into the library and fixed himself a drink. He left the house by way of the back door, greeting Sophie briefly in passing. She gave him a long look, apparently aware that Lola had packed up and departed. While she knew better than to commiserate, she was in the process of preparing all of his favorites: beef Wellington and haricots verts. Chunks of potato were simmering on a low burner and he knew she’d mash them with butter and sour cream. The tureen was set out for the fresh tomato soup she’d made. She’d also made a green salad she’d be dressing just before she served him. This was the only form of mothering he knew—someone cooking his supper, fixing everything he loved. He paid her handsomely, but so be it. Nurturing was nurturing.
    Sophie said, “Your uncle’s been asking for you. Cara’s been in here six times.”
    “I’m on my way now. I should be back in half an hour or so. Pop on the premises?”
    “He took the limo. Tomasso drove. He said he’d swing by Cappi’s house and take him out to dinner.”
    Dante made no comment. What did he care what Pop did with Cappi?
    It was still light out, but the day was fading, which made the lights in the guesthouse look cozy. He could smell wood smoke and imagined Cara had laid a fire to warm the old man, who was growing more feeble by the day. When she opened the door for him, she kept her voice low. Over her shoulder, he caught sight of his uncle, whose chair was pulled up as close to the hearth as she could place it.
    She was looking at him oddly. “Are you going someplace? Your uncle keeps talking about your leaving. He’s been agitated.”
    “No plans at the moment. Lola’s gone. She left for Los Angeles this morning, so he might have caught sight of her going down the drive and thought I was in the car.”
    “Well, do what you can to calm him. This is as bad as I’ve seen him.”
    Dante crossed to the fireplace, where Cara had set out a chair close enough for easy conversation. Alfredo was swaddled in a comforter, his head sunk on his chest. Only the occasional light snore suggested he was still among the living. Dante hated to wake him, so he sat and sipped his drink. Better to wait in companionable silence than to leave and suffer the silence of the main house. He watched the fire and when he next looked at his uncle, the old man’s eyes were open, fixed on him with an intensity Dante hadn’t seen for many years. Dante said, “How’s it going? You still hangin’ in there?”
    “I had a dream about you going on a journey. You kept looking back, motioning like I was supposed to come with you.” He paused to smile. “One of those dreams where I worked hard to catch up, but I couldn’t close the distance. Like walking in deep water up to here.” He laid a trembling hand on his chest.
    “I feel like that sometimes when I’m awake,” Dante said. “Meantime, I’m not going anyplace, so you can rest easy on that score.”
    “Time’s getting short and there’s something I need to get off my chest.”
    “You don’t have to do this now . . .”
    Alfredo shook his head. “Listen to me. This, I know. Shadows are getting longer and I’m cold. My blood pressure’s dropping. Cara won’t talk about it, but I can feel it in my soul. Those hospice people can tell you to the minute, which is why I didn’t want them hovering over me. Cara’s better-looking and she’s got those big tits.”
    Dante smiled. “I thought you’d appreciate her attributes.”
    “What I’m saying, you don’t want to know or you’d have figured it out years ago. I don’t tell you this to cause you pain, but in order to set