Chapter 10 – A Place at Her Own Table

Luca looked at his mother.

Then he smiled through his tears.

“Of course, Mom.”

Teresa gave a small, embarrassed laugh.

“I know it’s late.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The chicken will be cold.”

“Then we’ll warm it.”

She glanced toward me.

“Hannah, I’m sorry to make more work for you.”

I felt my throat tighten.

“Mrs. Moretti, please don’t apologize.”

Luca stood.

“Actually, Hannah, why don’t you sit with Mom? I’ll take care of dinner.”

Teresa looked surprised.

“You?”

He smiled faintly.

“I do know how to use a stove.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Your father used to say that, too.”

Luca laughed softly.

“And?”

“He burned the potatoes every Sunday for twenty years.”

For the first time that evening, the laughter felt natural.

Not forced.

Not something anyone was trying to create for the benefit of guests.

Just a mother remembering her husband.

We returned to the dining room.

The long table was still covered with candles, crystal glasses, and untouched desserts.

Luca turned off most of the chandeliers.

The room immediately felt warmer.

More like a home.

Less like a place where people were expected to behave perfectly.

He pulled out Teresa’s chair.

Then he moved another chair closer.

Not the way Vanessa had ordered me to move it earlier.

This time, Luca did it himself.

“Mom, would you like me to help with your dinner?”

Teresa looked at him.

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

He sat beside her.

I went to the kitchen and brought back fresh chicken, mashed potatoes, and the vegetables she’d barely touched.

Luca carefully cut the chicken into small pieces.

His mother watched him.

“You’re doing that too slowly,” she said.

He looked up.

“Am I?”

“Your father used to cut your food faster.”

Luca smiled.

“Dad had more practice.”

Teresa laughed.

I sat across from them.

For several minutes, we ate quietly.

The house had been full of thirty-six guests earlier.

Now there were only three people at the table.

And somehow, it felt more like a family dinner than anything that had happened all evening.

Teresa finished almost everything on her plate.

When she put down her fork, Luca looked pleased.

“Better?”

She nodded.

“Much.”

Then she looked toward the empty chair where Michael had been sitting.

Her smile faded.

Luca noticed.

“You’re thinking about him.”

She nodded.

“He was such a sweet little boy.”

Luca looked down.

“He’s not a little boy anymore.”

“I know.”

She folded her napkin.

“I keep wondering where I went wrong.”

Luca reached for her hand.

“Mom, you didn’t make him do those things.”

She looked at him.

“But I raised him.”

“You raised both of us.”

She smiled sadly.

“And you’ve both made mistakes.”

Luca nodded.

“Yes.”

Teresa studied him.

“Your father made mistakes, too.”

He looked surprised.

“He did?”

“Oh, plenty.”

She smiled faintly.

“He was proud. Stubborn. Sometimes he worked too much. Sometimes he thought money could solve problems that needed a conversation.”

Luca looked down.

“That sounds familiar.”

Teresa touched his hand.

“But he loved us.”

“I know.”

She paused.

“And I don’t want what Michael did to become the only thing you remember about your father.”

Luca’s expression changed.

For a while, he didn’t answer.

Then he said, “I keep thinking about Dad asking for me.”

Teresa nodded.

“I know.”

“I wonder what he wanted to say.”

She looked at the brass bell, now resting beside her plate.

Then she smiled through her tears.

“He wanted you to know he was proud of you.”

Luca looked up.

“He told you that?”

“Many times.”

She leaned closer.

“He said you carried too much responsibility. He worried you never let anyone see when you were tired.”

Luca looked down.

Teresa continued.

“And he wanted you and Michael to stop fighting over who was the better son.”

A faint smile crossed Luca’s face.

“He said that?”

“He did.”

She paused.

“Your father knew love wasn’t a competition. He just couldn’t always make you boys understand it.”

Luca laughed softly.

Then his eyes filled.

“I miss him.”

Teresa squeezed his hand.

“So do I.”

They sat together quietly.

I looked away.

Some grief doesn’t need to be interrupted.

After dinner, Luca walked Teresa upstairs.

I followed with her blanket and medication schedule.

Her bedroom had been rearranged for the supposed move.

Several drawers stood open.

A suitcase sat beside the bed.

Her slippers had been packed.

The little photographs on her dresser were wrapped in tissue paper.

She stopped in the doorway.

“Oh.”

Luca looked around.

His expression hardened.

Then he turned toward me.

“Hannah, were you asked to pack these things?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who gave the instructions?”

“Mr. Michael. Mrs. Bellini confirmed them.”

Teresa looked down.

“I thought I had to go.”

Luca crossed the room.

He opened the suitcase.

Then he began taking things out.

Her slippers.

Her nightgown.

Her favorite cardigan.

A small wooden jewelry box.

He placed each item where it belonged.

Teresa watched him.

“You don’t have to do that tonight.”

“Yes, I do.”

He folded her cardigan and returned it to the drawer.

Then he unwrapped a small photograph of Antonio.

It showed him standing in the garden, smiling beneath a summer hat.

Luca placed it on the dresser.

His mother touched the frame.

“That’s my favorite.”

“I remember.”

She smiled.

“Your father hated that hat.”

“He wore it every weekend.”

“Because I bought it.”

Luca laughed.

Then he turned toward her.

“Mom, I need to ask you something.”

She looked up.

“What?”

“Do you still want to live here?”

Teresa stared at him.

For a moment, she seemed unable to answer.

Then she whispered, “Am I allowed to say yes?”

Luca’s face changed.

“Of course.”

She began crying.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I want to stay.”

He pulled her gently into his arms.

“Then you’re staying.”

She held him tightly.

But after a moment, she pulled back.

“Luca?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“I do need help.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

“My hands aren’t going to get better just because we’re angry with Michael.”

“I know that, too.”

She looked relieved.

“I don’t want Hannah doing everything. She has her own life.”

I felt my eyes sting.

Teresa continued.

“And I don’t want you giving up your work because you’re afraid something will happen to me.”

Luca considered that.

“Then we’ll arrange help properly. With you making the decisions.”

She nodded.

“And you won’t send me away?”

“Not unless it’s something you choose.”

She looked at him for a long moment.

Then she whispered:

“I don’t need you to protect me from getting old, Luca. I just need you to stop letting people make me disappear.”

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