Anyway, Anthony Bellarosa didn’t even know where London was, and he thought Paris was the name of a Vegas hotel. So this was a good idea, and we’d have fun while Anthony was trying to figure out if he was the boss, or if he was in trouble.
I said to Mr. Mancuso, “We’ll call you Tuesday from the airport.”
“Please do.”
I asked him, “Other than being called to the scene of a murder, did you have a good Father’s Day?”
“I did, thank you. And how about you?”
“I had a wonderful day with my children, and my fiancée.” I added, “My mother and future in-laws were here, too.” I informed him, “Everyone will be out of here by tomorrow morning.”
“That’s good.” He asked us, “Are you being… cautious?”
“We are,” I assured him. “However, Susan and I did go to Giulio’s for coffee and pastry on Thursday.”
“Did you? Well… that was probably a good thing.”
“It was, actually.”
He stayed quiet a moment, then said to me, or really to us, “I’ve often wondered… what would have been different in all our lives if you hadn’t stopped him from bleeding to death.”
“Well… you can be sure I’ve wondered about that myself a few times.” I glanced at Susan, who wasn’t looking at me, and said, “But I would never have let him bleed to death.”
“I know that. And neither would I. But I mean, if you couldn’t have saved his life, and he’d died then and there… well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“We would not.” And Susan wouldn’t have killed Frank on Felix Mancuso’s watch, and I wouldn’t have divorced her and been in self-exile for ten years, and Anthony would not now be a threat to our lives. But who knows if something worse might have happened in these last ten years? Like me running off with Beryl Carlisle. I said to Felix Mancuso, but also for Susan, “Well, if we believe in a divine plan, maybe this is going to have a better ending than if Frank Bellarosa had lost one more pint of blood on the floor in Giulio’s restaurant.”
He stayed quiet a moment, then said to me, and to Susan, “I’ve thought the same thing. I really believe that… well, that there is a purpose to all this, and that part of that purpose is to test us, and to impart some wisdom to us, and to show us what is important, and to make us better people.”
Susan said, “I believe that. And I believe that we have a guardian angel who will watch over us.”
Well, then, I thought, why bother to go to London? But to be on the team, I said, “Me, too.”
Mr. Mancuso said, “Someone here needs to speak to me. Have a good trip, and don’t hesitate to call me anytime.”
“Thank you,” I replied, “and have a good evening.”
“Well…”
“Right. Then have a good day tomorrow.”
“You, too.”
Susan said, “And thank you.”
I hung up, and we looked at each other.
Finally, Susan said, “I, too, wonder how our lives would have been if I hadn’t-”
“Stop. We will never – and I mean never – discuss that again.”
Susan nodded. “All right. But maybe there really is a purpose to what happened.”
“Maybe.” And I was sure we didn’t have long to find out what it was.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
I suggested to Susan that we go up to the family room and watch a little of TheGodfather, Part IV: Anthony Whacks Uncle Sal.
She didn’t think that was either funny or something she wanted to do.
Susan picked up the phone and dialed.
I asked, “Who are you calling?”
“Edward.”
“Why? Oh, okay.” A mother’s instinct to protect her children is stronger than a man’s instinct to watch television.
Edward answered his cell phone for a change, and Susan said to him, “Sweetheart, I’d like you to come home now.”
He said something, and she replied, “You have an early morning flight, darling, and your father and I would like to spend a little time with you. Yes, thank you.”
She hung up and said to me, “Fifteen minutes.”
I nodded. Well, if left to his own devices, Edward would roll in at 3:00 A.M., and we’d be up all night with the shotgun waiting for him. I said to Susan, “At least he’ll be out of here tomorrow, and we’ll be in London Tuesday.”
She asked me, “John, do you think there is any danger to the children? I won’t go to London if-”
“They’re in no danger.” I thought about Anthony’s nice, clean hit at Giovanni’s Ristorante, and I also recalled what Anthony himself said to me on his front lawn, and I assured her, “Women and children get a pass… well, children anyway.” I further noted, “Carolyn is a district attorney, and that makes her virtually untouchable.”
Susan nodded, “All right… then I’m looking forward to London.”
“And then Paris.”
“Good. I haven’t been out of the country since… the time we went to Rome.”
Cheap boyfriends. Or provincial bumpkins. Meanwhile, I’ve been out of the country ten years, and I would have liked to stay around here awhile – but back to London.
She asked, “Am I going to enjoy London with you?”
“I hope so. I want to show you the Imperial War Museum.”
“I can’t wait.” She asked me, “Will there be ladies calling and knocking on your door in London?”
“Ladies? No. Of course not. But maybe we should stay in a hotel.”
She reminded me, “We can’t afford it.”
Another new reality.
So we sat in the office and talked a little about what Mancuso had said, and about how we really saw this situation. Susan was optimistic, and I, too, thought that maybe Anthony Bellarosa had more problems with his paesanos than we had with Anthony. But I wasn’t betting my life, or hers, on that.
We heard Edward pull up, and Susan went to the door and opened it before he unlocked it.
The three of us went up to the family room, and Sophie brought us the leftover cake, then wished us good night.
So we chatted about the day, and about sailboats, and about Susan and me visiting him in Los Angeles, and maybe bringing Grandma Harriet along. Hopefully, she’d like L.A. and stay there. We also told him that we were going to London for a few days, and then someplace else. Edward didn’t need to know where until we got there, and maybe not even then. He also didn’t need to know right now about the Mafia hit in Brooklyn. If he heard about this when he was in L.A., he’d probably put two and two together and realize why we were going to Europe on short notice. Or Carolyn would do the addition for him.
Apropos of nothing that we were discussing, Edward asked, “How did it go with Grandma and Grandpa after we left?”
I let Susan reply, and she said truthfully, “Not too well. But we’ll speak to them again tomorrow.”
He asked, “Why don’t they want you to get married?”
My turn, so I said, “They don’t like me.”
He pointed out, “You’re not marrying them.”
“Good point,” I agreed, “but they see this in a larger context.”
Edward cut through the bullshit, and said, “It’s all about their money.”
“Unfortunately,” I admitted, “it is about their money. But not anymore.”
Susan said to her son, “We – all of us – may experience some financial loss as a result of this marriage.”
“I know that.”
I said to him, “Your mother and I don’t care about us, but we do care about you and Carolyn.”
He informed us, “I spoke to Carolyn about it. We don’t care either.”
Susan and I looked at each other, and she said to Edward, “Let’s see what they say tomorrow.” She reminded him, “You have an early flight.”
He stood and said, “See you in the morning.” Then he asked, “How did they get like that?”
Well, assholes are born, not made.
Susan replied, “I don’t know, but I hope it’s not genetic.”
We all got a laugh out of that, and Edward said good night.
Susan said to me, “I really don’t like discussing this with the children.”
“They’re not children.”
“They are our children, John. And I don’t like that my parents are making them into pawns.”