Page 2 of The White Picket Fence

“She’sthe victim?”

Marian nodded sadly. “She was attacked in her own home. Luckily Charlie has been checking on her nearly every day. She found her only about a half hour later.”

Oh God. Charlie. No, not Charlie. Charlotte.

Once again Tino’s knees wobbled. “Charlotte is here?”

She’d been his first kiss. His first love. His first heartbreak.

Marian’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh. If I’d known you were in the dark, I’d have texted you. Given you the heads-up. When was the last time you saw Charlie?”

“Graduation. She went off to college and we parted ways.” He shrugged. “Grew apart.”

“Well, she’s in there with Dorothy, so pull up your big boy pants and get your butt in there.”

The command in Marian’s tone almost made Tino smile. He’d heard that tone so many times as a teenager, usually because he and Cliff had gotten into some trouble or other.

And several of those times, Charlotte had been right in there with them. She’d been a good girl, but she’d liked adventure. Wanted out of Philly. Wanted to see the world. Wanted to be somebody.

Tino wondered if she’d gotten her wish.

“Yes, ma’am. But first, I have something for you.” From his sketchbook, he pulled a single sheet, its edges finished and smooth. “Happy birthday, Mrs. G.”

Marian took the portrait done in charcoal, her eyes suddenly glassy with tears. “Tino,” she breathed. “It’s...I have no words, son.”

And he had no words every time she called him son. “Turned out okay, I guess.”

She gazed at the portrait of her granddaughter, blinking once to send the tears in her eyes streaking down her cheeks. “You are magic.”

He shrugged, uncomfortable with her praise. He was an artist. A pretty damn good one, if he said so himself. But to hear the woman who’d been more of a mother to him than his own had been say he was magic...

That was everything.

“Cliff made a pretty baby,” he said.

She sniffled, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I think Sonya had something to do with it.”

Sonya and Cliff had become first-time parents ten months ago and Tino was little Addison’s godfather. It was the first time he’d been a godfather to someone outside the Ciccotelli clan. Although Cliff was as much his brother as Dino, Gino, and Vito. Sonya was as much his sister as his own sister, Tess.

Cliff and Sonya and Tino and Charlotte. They’d all been joined at the hip in high school. Tino had assumed they’d all be together forever. Then Charlotte had gone away.

“Probably more than something,” Tino allowed, “considering Addison’s a carbon copy of Sonya as a baby.” He sighed. “I need to go. I’ve stalled long enough.”

He had to go in and see Mrs. Johnson. Hurt and scared. He didn’t want to see her that way. He selfishly wanted to remember her as his high school art teacher with her colorful headscarves and flowing dresses and the bangles that sounded like little bells whenever she moved.

“Not stalling,” Marian said kindly. “We all need to recharge every now and then, Tino.” She cupped his cheek again. “You come see me at home, and I’ll make you a pie.”

“Cherry?” he asked hopefully.

“Would I make you anything else?”

He grinned at her and squared his shoulders. “Gotta work.”

She hesitated. “She looks bad, Tino. Be prepared.”

Tino swallowed and forced himself to ask the question he’d been dreading. “How bad?”

“She’s here, kiddo, in the ICU. Her chances of survival are fifty-fifty.”

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