Chapter 5 – A Little Girl’s Place at the Table

Caroline stared at her daughter.

“What did Daddy say?”

Sophie looked confused.

“That we might not come here on Sundays.”

Luca lowered himself into the chair beside her.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Uncle Luca.”

“Did Daddy say why?”

She shrugged.

“He said grown-ups were talking.”

“About what?”

“Changing the restaurant.”

She looked toward the walnut walls.

“I don’t want them to change the pictures.”

Luca swallowed.

“Neither do I.”

Sophie studied his face.

“Are you mad at Daddy?”

The question caught him completely unprepared.

“No, honey.”

“Because he was worried you were.”

Luca looked down.

Then he reached for her hand.

“Your dad could never lose my friendship over a restaurant.”

Sophie nodded as though that settled everything.

But Caroline was crying silently.

She pulled her daughter close again.

“Would you sit with Aunt Donna for a minute, sweetheart?”

Sophie agreed.

Her aunt took her to the other end of the table and brought her a glass of water.

Luca watched them.

Then he turned toward Vanessa.

“You made Anthony believe his family might not be welcome here.”

“I never told him that.”

Caroline wiped her face.

“You told him if he couldn’t support your plans, he should stop treating this place like his second home.”

Vanessa looked startled.

“That was during an argument.”

“Did you say it?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then he heard you correctly.”

Vanessa’s shoulders dropped.

“I was angry.”

Caroline looked toward Sophie.

“He went home and asked whether we’d be making things harder for Luca if we kept showing up.”

The room fell quiet.

Luca sat back.

“My father used to call Anthony his second son.”

“I know,” Vanessa whispered.

“Then why would you make him feel like a stranger?”

She couldn’t answer.

I looked at Sophie’s drawing.

The chairs were uneven.

Some were much bigger than others.

But she had squeezed everyone around the same table.

Even me.

She’d drawn a small woman in a black dress carrying a tray.

For reasons I couldn’t explain, that almost made me cry.

I’d spent eleven months entering this dining room through the service door.

Yet a nine-year-old girl had thought to give me a place at the table.

Luca turned back to the contractor’s estimate.

“Rosa, tell me exactly what needs fixing.”

For the next several minutes, she explained.

The roof above the pantry.

A damaged exhaust motor.

Two refrigeration units.

None of it was pleasant.

None of it was cheap.

But the forty-eight-thousand-dollar estimate covered the urgent repairs.

The larger renovation could be completed in stages.

Luca studied the numbers.

“Why didn’t we do this months ago?”

Rosa hesitated.

“Your father always handled repairs himself. After he passed, we had a manager. Then the manager retired.”

“And I stopped checking.”

“You trusted people,” Rosa said.

Luca shook his head.

“I left too much on their shoulders.”

Vanessa looked at him.

“This is what I’ve been saying.”

He met her eyes.

“You were right that something needed to change.”

She looked relieved.

For one second, I thought she might apologize.

Then Luca continued.

“But you were wrong to decide that everybody else had to disappear.”

Vanessa looked away.

Caroline turned toward the estimate.

“Where did Anthony get the money for the deposit?”

Rosa hesitated.

“He paid it from his business account.”

Caroline frowned.

“His business account?”

“Yes.”

She looked almost relieved.

Then her expression changed.

“That’s still our emergency fund.”

Luca pushed the paper toward himself.

“I’ll have it repaid.”

“Luca, please. Stop promising things before we know what they cost.”

He looked at her.

She was right.

Again.

Caroline took a shaky breath.

“I don’t need another man trying to rescue everyone without asking his wife.”

Luca nodded.

“Then no more decisions tonight without showing the people affected.”

Teresa reached across the table and took Caroline’s hand.

“That’s a good place to start.”

Vanessa leaned against the sideboard.

“You’re all acting as though the smaller estimate solves everything.”

Luca looked at her.

“It doesn’t.”

“The restaurant still has bills. The roof is only part of the problem. One slow winter could put us right back where we started.”

Rosa lowered her eyes.

She knew Vanessa wasn’t inventing that concern.

So did I.

Some February evenings, we served fewer than twenty customers.

I’d once watched Luca quietly cover the difference between our wages and the restaurant’s earnings.

Vanessa continued.

“My father’s company offered guaranteed income for ten years. That isn’t nothing.”

“No,” Luca said. “It isn’t.”

“Then why won’t you even consider it?”

“Because you asked Anthony to lie to me before I could.”

Vanessa opened her mouth.

But Caroline spoke first.

“There’s something else you haven’t explained.”

She reached into Anthony’s coat.

From an inside pocket, she removed a folded white envelope.

There was no address.

Only Anthony’s handwriting.

“I found this at the hospital,” Caroline said. “I couldn’t bring myself to open it.”

She laid it on the table.

Luca unfolded the papers inside.

The first page was a schedule of repairs.

The second listed several companies willing to book private dinners over the winter.

Each entry included a proposed date, expected guest count, and estimated deposit.

Luca stared at the list.

“Anthony was trying to bring us business?”

Caroline nodded.

“He spent the last two weeks calling old customers and people who knew your father.”

Luca looked toward Vanessa.

“Did you know about this?”

Her silence answered.

He read the last page.

There was a handwritten note at the bottom.

This gives us a chance without asking Teresa to give up the place.

Then Luca looked at the date.

It was from the morning before Anthony met Vanessa.

He turned toward her.

“You knew we had another option, and you let my best friend believe I didn’t want him in my life anymore?”