Ultimately, the technician at the center had caved. Between Dani’s appeal that she was returning to Minneapolis tomorrow and Gia’s pointing out that they could have had three DNA tests done in the amount of time they were pleading their case, the technician had sought approval and gotten it.
After presenting several forms of personal ID, filling out a gazillion forms, and finally getting the necessary doctor’s prescription for the multiple tests being run, Gia and Dani had gotten their cheeks swabbed. The technician explained to them that notification containing the results would be accessible by email and by phone using the file number assigned to them along with a secure password. So there’d be no problem accessing the results confidentially from two different cities. And since Gia and Dani had opted for express delivery, they’d have their answers two to three days from now.
After leaving the testing center, it took Gia and Dani awhile to recapture their enthusiasm over the day ahead. But two lattes and a Fifth Avenue shopping spree later, they were in a poorer but far happier state of mind and ready to embrace the city.
They were oblivious to the man watching every step they took.
Green Lawn Cemetery
Brooklyn, New York
It was hard to believe this was Brooklyn, he thought, just as he did each time he visited the mausoleum. The city felt far away, like it was a separate world, far removed from the plush green hills and utter sense of peace that surrounded him. Silence, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird, made it easy to focus on where he was and why.
He knelt down at the foot of the marble crypt bearing a plaque that read:
Angelo Colone
July 1962 – March 2017
“Hey, Angelo,” he whispered.
He placed the flower arrangement against the cold stone wall. He bowed his head, tears seeping from his eyes. He stayed that way a long time, feeling the same deep sense of loss, coupled with the surreal sense that this was all a bad dream, that any minute now, Angelo would walk up behind him, slap the back of his head, and tell him to stop crying like a baby.
That wasn’t going to happen.
He sat back on his heels and wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands.
“I still can’t believe you’re gone,” he said. “You always had my back—always.” He swallowed hard. “But you wouldn’t have stood for this crying shit. You’d tell me to be strong, to be the man you taught me to be.”
He pictured Angelo as he’d last seen him—on his death bed, weak and still, his breathing shallow as death drew near. Powerful Angelo, barely there and yet still a presence. He’d called him over, whispered something in his ear.
Only Angelo could have made him smile through his tears.
With that vivid memory, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver dollar, turning it over in unsteady hands. “I still can’t get over that, for all these years, you knew I’d stolen your lucky coin and you never said a word. I thought I’d really put one over on you. Then, as you were slipping away, when you told me to keep the coin but to never forget that you were always smarter than me… I…” He squeezed his eyes shut again. “I fucked up, Angelo. I created a big problem. You and I both know it. And now, with you gone, I’ve got to fix this myself. And I will. You have my word.”
A lonely silence was his only reply.
Le Bernardin
155 West Fifty-First Street, Manhattan
“Wow.” Dani couldn’t stop looking around. She’d certainly heard of Le Bernardin. It was a top-ten NYC restaurant. Its prix fixe dinner cost a small fortune. But she’d gladly charge it and pay it off on her credit card. The dining room was magnificent. It had been recently remodeled, and the traditional French aura had been replaced with a trendier look, probably to attract a younger crowd. From the large triptych of storm-tossed waves hanging on the wall adjacent to their table to the intricate panels of latticework on either side of the painting to the awesome shimmery metal and bamboo window treatments—Dani was hooked. Her mouth was already watering for the red snapper she’d read was one of the chef ’s specialties.
“Guess I made the right choice,” Gia teased, watching Dani’s fascinated scrutiny of the restaurant.
“Ya think?” Dani tore her eyes off the painting to meet Gia’s amused gaze. “Standing at the top of the Empire State Building was the best,” she declared. “Seeing Hamilton—I don’t how your contact managed to get tickets when the show is booked for months—that was the best. Strolling all over Central Park was the best. Well, this is definitely up there with all those bests.”
“I’m so glad—about all the bests.”
“I’ll say it again, you’re an A-plus event planner. You even arranged for our shopping bags to be held at the Crowne Plaza Hotel so we can party now and pick up later. Remind me to call you when I get married.”
Gia laughed. “Will do.”
“How did you pull this off ?” Dani asked, curious and enthralled at once. “I might not be a New Yorker, but I’ve done my research. Le Bernardin books a full month in advance. Yet here we are.”
Gia’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve done a number of weddings here.” She pointed upward. “At Bernardin’s Les Salons, just one floor up. The room is stunning—all etched glass, floor-to-ceiling windows. They host elegant, s
mall affairs. So when I explained the last-minute circumstances, the maître d’ was kind enough to accommodate us. Thankfully it’s a weeknight, or we would have been SOL.” She shot Dani an apologetic look. “There’s a small catch. I’m handling a fall wedding here, and the planning stages are heating up. The chef wants a word with me after dinner. Quid pro quo. I’m sorry. It’ll be quick, I promise.”