Chapter 2 - The Message He Never Saw
Chloe had barely pushed through the kitchen doors when Marco grabbed her by both shoulders.
“What did you do?”
Chloe balanced the stack of plates against her hip.
“I took an order.”
“You argued with Gabriel Costello.”
“I corrected an order.”
“You corrected Gabriel Costello.”
“His mother wanted risotto.”
Marco stared at her as though she had just announced plans to rob a bank.
“Chloe, people do not correct that man.”
“She also wanted wine.”
Marco closed his eyes.
“Please stop talking.”
Chloe carried the dishes toward the sink.
Behind her, the kitchen slowly came back to life.
The chef shouted for another pan.
Someone dropped silverware.
A dishwasher whispered, “She’s definitely getting fired.”
Chloe heard him.
“I can hear you, Anthony.”
“Enjoy unemployment.”
“Thanks.”
But underneath her sarcasm, Chloe’s hands were shaking.
She had stood in front of Gabriel Costello and embarrassed him in front of six men.
She knew enough about Chicago to understand why that was a terrible idea.
People knew his name.
They just rarely said it loudly.
The Costello family owned restaurants, construction companies, warehouses, trucking companies, and enough property along the river to make city officials suddenly remember other appointments whenever certain questions came up.
Whether every rumor was true did not matter.
Fear worked just as well when only half the stories were real.
Marco followed her to the service station.
“Take the risotto in and then stay out of that room.”
“That’s the plan.”
“And do not translate anything else.”
Chloe stopped.
“What if she talks to me?”
“Pretend you don’t see it.”
Chloe’s expression hardened.
“I’m not doing that.”
“Chloe.”
“She has probably spent years being ignored by people who thought looking away was easier.”
Marco lowered his voice.
“This isn’t about right and wrong.”
“It usually is.”
“This is about keeping you alive and keeping my restaurant open.”
Chloe looked toward the mahogany doors.
She thought about Beatrice lowering her hands when Gabriel misunderstood her.
She thought about Leo doing exactly the same thing when their father became frustrated.
She remembered being twelve years old and watching Leo stop trying to tell their relatives stories because everyone kept turning toward Chloe and asking her to translate instead of looking at him.
Eventually, Leo had simply stopped talking to them.
Chloe swallowed.
“I’ll bring the risotto.”
She picked up the plate.
“And after that?”
Marco asked.
“After that, I’ll try not to overthrow organized crime before dessert.”
Marco looked sick.
“That is not funny.”
“It was a little funny.”
She went back inside.
The atmosphere had changed.
Gabriel was sitting again.
His men were talking in lower voices.
Beatrice looked up the moment Chloe entered.
Her expression immediately softened.
Chloe set the risotto in front of her.
Then she placed a glass of Barolo beside the plate.
Beatrice signed.
Perfect.
Chloe smiled.
Enjoy.
Gabriel watched every movement.
He said nothing until Chloe turned to leave.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
Gabriel nodded toward the chair beside his mother.
“Sit.”
Chloe glanced around.
“I’m working.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
Beatrice frowned at him.
Chloe looked back at Gabriel.
“See, that right there is what she meant about your manners.”
One of the lieutenants dropped his gaze to hide a smile.
Gabriel leaned back.
“You really don’t know when to be afraid, do you?”
“Oh, I’m terrified.”
“You don’t look terrified.”
“I worked brunch at a restaurant across from Wrigley Field for three years.”
Chloe folded her hands.
“I developed survival instincts.”
Beatrice laughed silently.
Gabriel noticed.
Again, that strange uncertainty passed over his face.
“Sit down for one minute.”
This time his voice was quieter.
Chloe hesitated.
Then she sat.
Gabriel turned slightly toward his mother.
“Ask her if she’s comfortable.”
Chloe stared at him.
“You could ask her.”
“I don’t know how.”
“That’s becoming obvious.”
His jaw tightened.
Chloe signed to Beatrice.
Gabriel wants to know if you’re comfortable.
Beatrice answered immediately.
Tell him I would be more comfortable if he stopped discussing the docks while I’m eating.
Chloe translated.
Gabriel’s eyes flicked toward the folder in front of him.
He closed it.
Beatrice continued.
And tell him I hate when strangers stand behind me.
Chloe glanced toward the two bodyguards near the wall.
Gabriel followed her gaze.
He lifted two fingers.
The guards moved outside.
Beatrice’s shoulders relaxed.
Gabriel noticed that too.
His expression shifted.
Not because Chloe had told him something shocking.
Because the information was ordinary.
His mother had preferences.
Small ones.
Simple ones.
And apparently he had missed them.
“What else?”
Gabriel asked.
Chloe translated.
Beatrice gave him a suspicious look.
Then she signed.
He finally wants to know what I think?
Chloe hesitated.
“Yes.”
Beatrice’s hands moved more slowly now.
Tell him I have been trying to talk to him for three weeks.
Gabriel’s expression hardened.
“About what?”
Chloe signed the question.
Beatrice looked toward the men around the table.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes moved from face to face.
One man in particular noticed.
Vincent Moretti.
Early forties.
Narrow face.
Silver tie.
He had barely spoken during dinner.
Yet the second Beatrice looked at him, his hand tightened around his wineglass.
Chloe saw it.
So did Gabriel.
Beatrice signed.
Not here.
Chloe translated.
Gabriel looked at his mother.
“What does that mean?”
“It means not here.”
“I know what it means.”
“Then why did you ask?”
His eyes flashed.
Chloe almost smiled.
Beatrice suddenly reached across the table and touched Chloe’s hand.
Then she signed.
Tomorrow.
Chloe frowned.
Tomorrow what?
Beatrice pointed toward herself.
Then toward Chloe.
You come to my house.
Chloe blinked.
Gabriel immediately said, “No.”
Beatrice did not even look at him.
She continued.
There is something I need to tell my son.
Chloe’s humor vanished.
Something important?
Beatrice nodded.
Then she signed one word.
Danger.
Chloe stopped breathing for a second.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“What did she say?”
Chloe looked at Beatrice.
The old woman’s eyes were serious now.
Afraid.
Chloe had not seen fear in them before.
Gabriel repeated, “What did she say?”
Chloe answered.
“She said danger.”
The room went silent.
Gabriel’s gaze snapped toward his mother.
“Who?”
Chloe translated.
Beatrice shook her head.
Not here.
Gabriel stood so quickly his chair scraped across the floor.
Vincent shifted in his seat.
“What is this?”
he asked.
Gabriel did not look at him.
Instead he stared at Chloe.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Chloe frowned.
“What?”
“You’re coming with us.”
“That sounds less like an invitation every time you say it.”
“You’ll be paid.”
“I have a shift.”
“I’ll pay the restaurant.”
“I have rent.”
“I’ll pay your rent.”
Chloe crossed her arms.
“You solve every problem with money?”
“No.”
Gabriel’s eyes became cold.
“Only the easy ones.”
Beatrice slapped his forearm again.
Gabriel closed his eyes briefly.
Chloe nearly laughed.
Then Beatrice signed.
Nine o’clock.
Chloe signed back.
I’ll come.
Gabriel looked between them.
“You agreed?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
Chloe stood.
“I thought we established that this is your mother’s conversation.”
She collected the empty appetizer dishes.
Gabriel watched her carefully.
“Do you always talk like this?”
“Only when exhausted.”
“How many hours have you worked?”
“Eleven and a half.”
“Go home.”
Chloe blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I said go home.”
“I’m still on shift.”
Gabriel looked toward the door.
Marco appeared almost immediately, as though he had been listening with one ear pressed against the wood.
Gabriel reached into his jacket.
He placed several hundred-dollar bills on the table.
“Her shift is over.”
Marco stared at the money.
“Yes, Mr. Costello.”
Chloe pointed at him.
“Coward.”
Marco whispered, “Alive coward.”
Beatrice laughed again.
Chloe took off her apron.
Before leaving, she looked once more at Vincent Moretti.
He was no longer eating.
He was staring directly at Beatrice.
And there was something in his face that Chloe did not like.
Not anger.
Calculation.
Outside the restaurant, cold Chicago air hit Chloe’s cheeks.
She pulled her coat tighter.
Her old Honda sat three blocks away.
She walked quickly.
At the corner, a black sedan rolled slowly past her.
Chloe barely noticed.
Then it turned at the next intersection.
She reached her car.
The black sedan appeared again.
Chloe stopped.
Her pulse quickened.
She unlocked the Honda.
Got inside.
Locked the doors.
The sedan stopped across the street.
Nothing happened.
Ten seconds passed.
Then twenty.
Chloe started the engine.
The sedan pulled away.
She told herself she was imagining things.
She was exhausted.
She had just spent an hour with a man whose reputation could make anyone paranoid.
Still, when she finally reached her apartment building, Chloe checked the street twice before getting out.
She climbed the stairs.
Unlocked her door.
And found an envelope lying on the floor inside her apartment.
Chloe froze.
She had locked that door that morning.
She slowly bent down.
The envelope had no stamp.
No name.
Only one sentence written across the front.
STOP TRANSLATING FOR BEATRICE COSTELLO.
Chloe stared at the words.
Then she looked toward the dark apartment behind her.
For the first time that night, the joke disappeared completely from her face.
May you like
Someone had been inside her home.
And whoever it was already knew exactly what Beatrice planned to do tomorrow.
