Chapter 2 – THE SUITCASE BESIDE THE BED

“Packed?”

Luca stared at his mother.

Teresa nodded.

“Vanessa said somebody would collect it Monday morning.”

He looked at me.

“Emily, where is it?”

“In Mrs. Moretti’s bedroom, sir.”

“Bring it downstairs. Please.”

I hurried upstairs.

The first thing I noticed was the empty dressing table.

Teresa’s favorite silver-backed hairbrush was gone.

So was the little porcelain dish where she kept her pearl hairpins.

The framed photograph of Antonio kissing her cheek on their forty-fifth anniversary had disappeared from beside the mirror.

For a moment, I couldn’t move.

I’d helped Teresa choose clothing earlier that afternoon.

But I hadn’t realized Vanessa had already begun removing the things that made the room hers.

The suitcase stood beside the bed.

Brown leather.

One of Antonio’s old traveling cases.

Teresa had insisted on using it because the handle still carried a small brass tag with his initials.

I lifted it carefully.

It was heavier than I expected.

When I returned to the sitting room, Luca had moved a chair beside his mother.

He was holding her gold bracelet.

“Set it here, Emily.”

I placed the suitcase on the rug.

Teresa looked embarrassed.

“You don’t have to go through my things.”

Luca shook his head.

“I want to understand what they made you believe you had to leave behind.”

He opened the case.

Inside were three folded dresses.

Two nightgowns.

A pair of comfortable shoes.

Her medication.

And a small framed photograph of Antonio.

Nothing else.

Luca stared.

“Mom, where are your other clothes?”

She looked down.

“Vanessa said there wouldn’t be much closet space.”

“And your jewelry?”

“I was supposed to leave most of it here.”

He picked up the photograph.

Antonio stood beside Teresa beneath a flowering tree, his arm around her waist.

They were both laughing.

Luca recognized it immediately.

“This was taken at your anniversary party.”

Teresa nodded.

“The year before your father got sick.”

His thumb brushed the edge of the frame.

Then he looked inside the suitcase again.

“Where’s Dad’s watch?”

Teresa blinked.

“What watch?”

“The pocket watch he always kept in his winter coat.”

Her expression changed.

“Vanessa said I shouldn’t bring his coat.”

Luca slowly lowered the photograph.

“Why?”

“She said Mr. Hale might find it uncomfortable.”

I watched his fingers tighten around the frame.

The room became very quiet.

“Mom,” he said, “you weren’t going to Edward Hale’s house to replace Dad.”

Teresa began crying.

“I know.”

“Then why were you leaving everything behind?”

She looked at him helplessly.

“Because I thought you wanted a fresh start.”

Luca stood.

For a moment, he looked almost angry with himself.

Then he turned toward me.

“Emily, did my mother agree to packing this little?”

I hesitated.

“Mrs. Moretti chose the clothes, sir.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

I swallowed.

“Vanessa gave her a list.”

Teresa looked embarrassed.

“Emily—”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Moretti.”

I turned toward Luca.

“The list said one suitcase. No unnecessary keepsakes. No jewelry connected to a previous marriage.”

Luca stared at me.

“Previous marriage?”

“Yes, sir.”

His face darkened.

“She was married once. For forty-six years.”

“I know.”

He put the photograph down.

“Where is that list?”

I hesitated.

“Vanessa took it.”

Daniel appeared in the doorway.

“Sir, Miss Bellini has left.”

Luca nodded without looking up.

“Make sure she doesn’t return without arranging it with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then Daniel glanced toward the suitcase.

“There’s something else you should see.”

He handed Luca a small brass key.

A faded red thread was tied around its handle.

Teresa recognized it immediately.

“My bedroom key.”

Luca frowned.

“Why did Daniel have it?”

Daniel answered.

“Miss Bellini left it with the household keys. She said Mrs. Moretti wouldn’t need access to the room after Monday.”

I felt Teresa stiffen beside me.

Luca looked toward his mother.

“Did you give Vanessa this key?”

Teresa nodded.

“She asked for it yesterday.”

“Why?”

“She said the room would be needed for the wedding preparations.”

Luca’s voice dropped.

“Your room?”

“Yes.”

He looked genuinely confused.

“Mom, your bedroom isn’t part of the wedding preparations.”

Teresa touched the empty place where her braid used to rest.

“Vanessa said things would be different once you had a wife.”

Luca’s eyes filled again.

He sat beside her.

“Mom, this has been your bedroom since before I was born.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Dad carried you across that doorway when you were newly married.”

She laughed through her tears.

“He nearly dropped me.”

Luca smiled faintly.

“He told me.”

Then his expression grew serious.

“No one is taking that room away from you.”

Teresa covered her face.

I looked toward Daniel.

He seemed as shaken as I was.

Then he spoke.

“Mr. Moretti, there’s another problem.”

Luca turned.

“What?”

“Miss Bellini left a folder in the dining room. She asked me to put it with the wedding materials.”

He handed Luca a pale-blue folder.

A small white label was attached to the front.

Luca opened it.

There were seating arrangements.

Photograph schedules.

Lists of furniture.

And several drawings of the upstairs rooms.

At first, he seemed relieved.

“This is the renovation proposal I approved last month.”

He turned a page.

Then stopped.

I watched his expression change.

The drawing showed Teresa’s bedroom.

But the handwritten label beside it no longer said Mrs. Moretti’s Suite.

It said New Bridal Dressing Room.

Her sitting area had been marked for removal.

Antonio’s portrait was listed under storage.

And the small adjoining room where Teresa kept her sewing things was labeled Private Lounge.

Luca stared at the drawing.

“Who changed this?”

Daniel leaned closer.

“I don’t know, sir.”

Teresa looked frightened.

“Luca, please don’t be angry.”

He turned toward her.

“Not with you, Mom.”

Then he looked back at the page.

His hand stopped moving.

In the lower-right corner was a familiar signature.

His own.

I watched the color drain from his face.

He looked at Daniel.

Then at the drawing again.

And whispered, “That’s my signature.”

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Finally, Teresa asked the question none of us wanted to hear.

“Sweetheart, did you know they were going to take my room?”