Chapter 3 – THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE COATROOM

Luca didn’t wait for Vanessa to explain.

He turned and hurried toward the staircase.

I followed him.

Behind us, Vanessa called his name, but he didn’t stop.

The restaurant’s lower floor was quieter than the dining room upstairs.

A few customers sat in leather booths.

Someone was playing soft piano music.

Near the coatroom, a young hostess stood beside a little girl wearing a yellow raincoat.

The child held a faded blue wool coat against her chest.

Her dark curls were tied back with a crooked pink ribbon.

She looked up when Luca approached.

“Are you Uncle Luca?”

He stopped several feet away.

For a second, he couldn’t speak.

Then he lowered himself to one knee.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I’m Luca.”

She studied his face.

“Mama said you look like Daddy.”

His eyes filled immediately.

“I’ve been told that.”

Lucy shifted the coat in her arms.

“Are you mad at her?”

“No, sweetheart.”

“Because I can be good here.”

Luca looked confused.

Lucy hurried to explain.

“I don’t spill things. I can make my bed. Mama taught me.”

Something changed in his expression.

I recognized it.

The terrible moment when an adult understands how much fear a child has been carrying.

Luca reached for her hand, then stopped.

“May I?”

She nodded.

He held her small fingers between both of his tattooed hands.

“You don’t have to earn a place here by being good.”

Lucy looked toward the stairs.

“Then Mama can stay?”

Luca swallowed.

“I’m going to find out exactly what’s happening.”

The little girl seemed disappointed by that answer.

I understood why.

When you’re frightened, uncertainty can feel almost as painful as rejection.

I crouched beside her.

“Hi, Lucy. I’m Natalie.”

“Are you his friend?”

“I work for his family.”

She considered that.

“Do you like my mama?”

“I haven’t met her yet.”

“She makes good pancakes.”

I smiled.

“That sounds pretty promising.”

For the first time, Lucy almost smiled back.

Then she opened the blue coat.

Inside was a small silver pocket watch with cracked glass.

The minute hand had stopped near twelve.

“Daddy’s,” she explained.

Luca stared at it.

I saw his throat move.

“Enzo carried that everywhere.”

Lucy held it out.

“Mama said you used to fix it.”

Luca accepted it carefully.

“I did. He always broke the little winding piece.”

“He said you were better at fixing things.”

Luca lowered his head.

A tear fell onto the back of his hand.

When he looked up, he was trying to smile.

“I wasn’t better at everything.”

Lucy leaned closer.

“Can you fix this?”

“I’d like to try.”

A sudden noise came from the entrance.

A woman hurried through the front doors carrying an overnight bag.

She wore a plain brown coat, worn sneakers, and the exhausted expression of someone who hadn’t slept properly in weeks.

“Lucy!”

The little girl turned.

“Mama!”

She ran across the floor.

The woman dropped her bag and caught her.

For several seconds, neither said anything.

Then the woman looked over Lucy’s shoulder.

Straight at Luca.

Her expression changed.

“You.”

Luca stood slowly.

“Rebecca?”

She pulled her daughter closer.

“I was told you wouldn’t see us until tomorrow.”

“Who told you that?”

“Vanessa.”

Luca looked toward the stairs.

Rebecca’s voice shook.

“She said Lucy would stay with your family while I completed the training program. Six weeks. That’s all I agreed to.”

Luca’s jaw tightened.

“Did she tell you I wanted you to leave Chicago?”

Rebecca looked startled.

“She said you wouldn’t consider helping Lucy while I was nearby.”

“That isn’t true.”

Rebecca stared at him.

Then she gave a small, disbelieving laugh.

“That’s what your father said, too.”

Luca went still.

“My father?”

“Eight years ago.”

Lucy tugged at her mother’s sleeve.

“Mama, can we go home?”

Rebecca kissed her hair.

“Soon, baby.”

I glanced at the overnight bag.

There was a bus tag attached to its handle.

Milwaukee.

Tomorrow morning.

Rebecca followed my gaze.

“Vanessa said a training coordinator would meet me at the station. She promised I’d be able to visit Lucy every weekend.”

“Did you speak with the coordinator yourself?” Luca asked.

“Once. But Vanessa handled everything afterward.”

Luca took a slow breath.

“Rebecca, I never agreed to take your daughter away from you. I didn’t even know she existed until tonight.”

The woman stared at him.

I watched years of anger and disappointment move across her face.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Your father knew.”

“My father died three years ago.”

“I know.”

Her voice softened.

“Enzo came here before he died. He wanted you to meet Lucy.”

Luca looked down at the watch.

“Why didn’t he call me?”

“He tried.”

“Rebecca, I would’ve answered.”

“You weren’t answering his calls then.”

That landed hard.

Luca didn’t deny it.

Rebecca continued.

“He drove here one afternoon. Lucy was barely a year old. I waited in the car while he went to speak to you.”

Luca frowned.

“I never saw him.”

“That’s what he told me afterward.”

She opened her handbag and removed a faded photograph.

Enzo stood in front of the restaurant, holding baby Lucy beneath his coat.

Snow covered the sidewalk.

On the back, someone had written a date.

December 14, 2018.

Luca stared at it.

“I remember that day.”

Rebecca looked up.

“You do?”

“I was upstairs handling a private event. Nobody told me Enzo came.”

Rebecca’s eyes filled.

“He waited almost three hours.”

A quiet voice spoke behind us.

“He did.”

Mrs. Carter stood at the bottom of the staircase.

Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her.

Luca turned.

“Mrs. Carter?”

The elderly housekeeper looked at Rebecca, then at Lucy.

“I remember the baby. She had a pink blanket.”

Rebecca nodded slowly.

“Enzo carried it.”

Mrs. Carter began crying.

Luca stepped toward her.

“What happened that afternoon?”

She couldn’t look at him.

“Your father gave me an instruction.”

“What instruction?”

She pressed a hand against her mouth.

Then she whispered something that made Luca step backward.

“Enzo never got inside, Mr. Moretti. I was the one who turned the lock.”