Chapter 10 – THE WORDS A BROTHER REGRETTED

“Yes,” Marco said.

Anna was still holding the letter.

I stood beside the sitting-room door, watching her face.

“You wrote this?”

He nodded.

“Eight months ago.”

“Why?”

Marco looked down.

“Bianca told me you’d started drinking again. She said a private recovery counselor needed a statement from me before helping arrange treatment.”

Anna stared at him.

“I never asked for treatment.”

“I know that now.”

“But you didn’t know it then because you never asked me.”

Marco nodded.

“No. I didn’t.”

She turned the page over.

The letter wasn’t particularly long.

It contained no accusations of theft or misconduct. Marco had written that he feared his sister might be struggling and that he was willing to support whatever professional assistance she needed.

On its own, it sounded like a frightened brother trying to help.

But in the hands of someone determined to hurt Anna, it had become something else.

Proof that even her own family questioned her recovery.

“Did you know Bianca sent this to my employer?” Anna asked.

“No.”

“Would you have stopped her?”

“Of course.”

Anna looked at him.

“But you didn’t stop her from keeping me away from you.”

He accepted the words quietly.

“No.”

She folded the letter.

“I don’t want you to tell them you never wrote it.”

Marco looked up.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Good. Because I need you to tell the truth, even the part where you made a mistake.”

He nodded.

“I will.”

Anna studied him for a moment.

Then she turned to me.

“Katie, could you come with us?”

I was surprised.

“Me?”

“You were there when Bianca tried to force me to drink. You heard what she said about my recovery.”

I glanced at Marco.

He answered before I could ask.

“Take whatever time you need.”

Anna smiled faintly.

“See? He’s getting better at asking permission.”

Marco managed a small laugh.

It was the first time I’d heard them joke together since the engagement dinner.

At the district office, we met with a woman named Mrs. Ellis, who had worked in school administration for nearly thirty years.

She was brisk but kind.

After introducing herself, she invited Anna to explain the situation in her own words.

Anna placed her bronze coin on the table.

“Next Thursday will be ten years since my last drink.”

Mrs. Ellis nodded.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I’m proud of it.”

Anna paused.

“But I don’t believe I should have to prove my sobriety to keep doing a job I’ve performed well for seven years.”

Mrs. Ellis listened carefully.

Anna explained the false Christmas allegation, Bianca’s attempt to pressure her into signing financial documents, and the engagement dinner.

I confirmed what I’d witnessed.

I described Bianca taking away Anna’s cider and instructing me to serve champagne despite Anna’s refusal.

I didn’t exaggerate.

There was no need.

Then Mrs. Ellis turned to Marco.

“Mr. Vitale, this letter appears to be yours.”

He nodded.

“It is.”

“Did you personally observe your sister drinking during the period described?”

“No.”

“Did you have reliable evidence that she’d relapsed?”

He hesitated.

Then he said, “No. I relied on information from someone I trusted.”

Anna looked down at her hands.

Marco continued.

“I should have spoken to my sister. Instead, I allowed another person to speak for both of us.”

Mrs. Ellis made a note.

“Thank you for clarifying that.”

She reviewed Anna’s employment record.

There had been no documented performance concerns, no incidents involving alcohol at work, and no complaints from parents or colleagues.

The district had received Bianca’s written withdrawal and would retain the relevant records while closing its review.

“Based on what we’ve examined,” Mrs. Ellis said, “there’s no substantiated basis for adverse employment action.”

Anna let out a breath she’d been holding for days.

Mrs. Ellis looked at her kindly.

“Your work record speaks well for you, Ms. Vitale.”

Anna’s eyes filled.

“Thank you.”

When we returned to the mansion, Marco offered to make lunch.

Anna looked amused.

“You?”

“I know how to cook.”

“You once burned canned soup.”

“I’ve improved.”

She laughed.

The sound was small, but it filled the kitchen.

I made sandwiches while Marco attempted coffee.

He put far too much grounds into the machine, and Anna quietly corrected him.

Neither seemed to mind.

After lunch, Anna asked if we could visit Hawthorne Street.

Marco agreed.

We carried the rescued books inside and placed them in the front room.

Someone had swept the floors, and the contractor had been instructed to stop all work unrelated to protecting the building.

The old house still needed repairs.

But it no longer felt as though it was waiting to be erased.

Anna took off her coat.

She stood beside the window where her mother’s bookshelves had once been.

“I’ve been thinking about your letter,” she told Marco.

“The one about the house?”

She nodded.

“I don’t want you to give me your half.”

He looked surprised.

“Annie, I meant what I wrote.”

“I know.”

She smiled.

“But I don’t need you to make some grand gesture because you feel guilty.”

“That’s not why—”

“I believe you.”

She took his hand.

“But Mom left it to both of us. And I think she’d want us to take care of it together.”

Marco looked around the empty room.

“Whatever you want to do with it, I’ll help.”

Anna shook her head.

“Don’t promise that until you know what I’m asking.”

He smiled.

“Fair point.”

She opened one of the boxes.

Inside were several books with her mother’s blue lending-library stamp.

Anna held one against her chest.

“I want to start small. A reading afternoon once a month. For families who need somewhere quiet to go. Maybe for people rebuilding their lives.”

Marco nodded slowly.

“Mom would have loved that.”

“I think so too.”

He looked toward the empty kitchen.

“And what about the rest of the house?”

Anna considered the question.

“Let’s repair it first. Then we’ll decide together.”

Marco smiled.

“Together.”

Anna reached into her pocket and removed the little brass key.

She placed it in his palm.

He stared at it.

“Annie?”

“Get me a new lock,” she said. “One we both have keys for.”

His eyes filled.

She squeezed his hand.

“And tomorrow is Thursday.”

“I remember.”

“I’m not having a big party.”

“Okay.”

“No speeches. No expensive presents.”

“Understood.”

She smiled.

“Just dinner. You and me. Katie too, if she wants.”

I looked up.

“I’d love to.”

Anna turned back to Marco.

“And there’s one more thing.”

“Anything.”

Her expression grew serious.

“When you come tomorrow, bring Mom’s silver watch.”

Marco stopped smiling.

Anna noticed.

“Marco? You do still have it, don’t you?”

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