Then he walked to Cassandro and took the telephone from him.
“Thank you for returning my call, Mr. Giacomo,” Savarese said.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Armando Giacomo said. “I was in court.”
“So your secretary said.”
“How may I be of service?”
“I thought you might be interested in hearing that I have had a report from my daughter about my granddaughter.”
“Yes, I would.”
“Dr. Payne has seen her three times so far,” Savarese said. “Late last night. The first thing this morning, and at lunch. My granddaughter is apparently very taken with her.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“I am grateful to you, Mr. Giacomo, for arranging for me to meet with Mr. Payne.”
“I was happy to have been of service.”
“And, of course, I am very grateful to Mr. Payne for speaking to his daughter on behalf of Cynthia. That is one of the reasons I asked you to call.”
“Brewster Payne was sympathetic to your problem. He is a very nice man.”
“What I wanted to do was ask your advice about making some small gesture of my appreciation to Mr. Payne,” Savarese said.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Savarese.”
“I have several bottles of some really fine cognac I thought would be appropriate.”
“May I speak freely, Mr. Savarese?”
“Of course.”
“You went to Mr. Payne as a father and grandfather asking help from another father. He understood your problem and did what he could to help, one father helping another, so to speak. Under those circumstances, I don’t really think that a gift is in order.”
Savarese didn’t reply for a long moment.
“You think it would be inappropriate? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, both unnecessary and inappropriate.”
“You’re suggesting he would be offended?”
“Let me put it this way, Mr. Savarese,” Giacomo said. “If I had gone to Brewster Payne as you did, and he had responded as he did, I would not send him a gift. I would think that in his mind he had done only what a decent human should have done, and therefore, no attempt to repay—”
“I take your meaning, Mr. Giacomo,” Savarese interrupted him. “And I respect your wisdom and trust your judgment in matters of this nature.”
“Thank you,” Giacomo said.
He hoped that his relief at being able to talk Savarese out of sending Brewster Payne a couple—he said “several bottles,” so maybe six, maybe a dozen—$500 bottles of French booze was not evident in his voice. There would be no telling how Payne would react. Payne regarded Vincenzo Savarese—loving grandfather or not—as a murdering gangster, and he didn’t want—worse, almost certainly would not accept—a present from him. Payne was entirely capable of sending the booze back, which would insult Savarese, and there’s no telling what trouble that would cause.
“I would be grateful, Mr. Giacomo, if Mr. Payne could somehow be made aware that I consider myself deeply in his debt.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Savarese. As I said before, Mr. Payne believes, in his mind, that he only did what a decent man was obligated to do.”
“When the opportunity presents itself, Mr. Giacomo, as I’m sure it soon will, I would consider it a personal favor for you to tell Mr. Payne that I consider myself deeply in his debt. Would you do that for me, Mr. Giacomo?”