Page 105 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

He turned and looked at me with his good eye. “Che cosa, signora?”

“I need to call Giacomo, but I don’t have his number.”

“Of course, of course.” Sal turned the burner off as he pulled out his mobile. We met at the counter and Sal connected the call, then handed the phone to me.

“Pronto,” a familiar deep voice said after one ring. “What is it, Sal?”

“It’s me, not Sal.”

“Hold on.” I heard movement in the background, like Giacomo was going somewhere to speak privately. Biting my lip, I waited until he said quietly, “What is it, bambina? Are you okay?”

“The phone in your office rang and I picked it up.” I saw Sal flinch, but I let that go for now. “It was your sister.”

There was dead silence on the other end. If Giacomo was breathing, I couldn’t tell. Finally, he said, “I’ll be there in fifteen.” Then he disconnected.

I gave the phone back to Sal. “He said he’ll be home in a few minutes.”

“He doesn’t speak about business on the phone. He is like the older bosses in that way. You never know who could be listening.”

“Oh.” He set a glass of sparkling water in front of me and I took a long drink. “Did you know about her?”

“I’ve been on the estate a long time, signora. I know a great many things about the Buscettas.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

Sal went back to the stove. “That is for your husband to decide. It wouldn’t be right for me to share.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I shouldn’t have answered the phone, I know. But it kept ringing and I thought it might be Giacomo. I’ve never heard any of the phones in the house ring.”

“He speaks only to her on that phone, no one else.”

“I didn’t know that.”

The list of things I didn’t know around here kept growing and growing. My stomach churned with dread. What was I doing? I didn’t have a clue as to who Giacomo really was, or anything about his family history. For god’s sake, this man has a sister he never told me about.

“Stop worrying, signora,” Sal said gently. “It will all work out.”

He placed a small bowl of frozen lemon granita in front of me. It was like the shaved lemon ice sold at the fair back home in Toronto, except smoother. I loved it and Sal always had it on hand.

“I wish I had your optimism,” I said. “Can you at least tell me if there are more family members I don’t know about? Then I won’t be so surprised later on.”

He patted my hand. “Viviana and Giacomo are the only two left. There is no one else.” He gestured to my lower half. “At least, not yet.”

We sat in silence until the sound of a car engine approached the back of the house. When Giacomo burst through the kitchen door, his brow was wrinkled with concern. It was as on edge as I’d ever seen him.

He barked, “What did she say?”

“She heard that you married—”

“Who told her?”

“She said a friend who talks to people on the outside. I didn’t know what that meant.”

My husband exchanged a look with Zani, who was just walking in. “It has to be the boy. Try to call her again.”

Zani dipped his chin then stepped outside. Giacomo motioned to me. “Tell me every word of the conversation, if you can.”

I repeated as much of the exchange as I could recall. When I got to the part where Viviana speculated that her brother’s marriage was her fault, Giacomo grimaced. “Minchia! What did she say next?”

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