She smiled. “I asked you first.”
“Do you think it’s too soon?”
“I don’t know, do you?”
He stared at her as he tried to make sense of their conversation. “I don’t know. This is fucking ridiculous, Haven.”
“It is,” she said, turning her attention back to the envelope in her hand. “I wonder what he left for me.”
“Could be anything,” he replied as she opened it and read the paper giving her the time and date to appear. “Money, property . . . who knows.”
“But why?” she asked. “None of that matters to me.”
He shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out on Monday.”
* * *
They spent the weekend together, catching movies and having dinner as he showed her around Chicago. Monday approached quickly and he dressed around noon, putting on some black slacks and a white button-down shirt, trying to look halfway decent since Corrado would be there. He slipped on a pair of black and white Nike’s and headed downstairs while Haven was in the shower, opening the freezer and pulling out the bottle of Grey Goose. He took the top off the bottle and brought it to his lips, taking a big swig. It burned his throat but soothed his nerves, his anxiety lessening almost immediately.
They made it to the lawyer’s office at exactly a quarter after one, right when the will reading was set to start. Haven sat in a large black office chair around the long wooden table, and Carmine pulled out the chair beside her to sit down. She smiled and reached under the table, taking his hand. The family surrounded them—Celia and Corrado, Dominic and Tess. Even Carmine’s grandmother was present, although she looked less than happy to be there with them.
Mr. Borza cleared his throat to get started. “Everyone here knew Vincent well, so I think we can all agree that he wouldn’t mind if we kept it informal. He left a letter with his wishes, so I’m just going to read it.”
Haven fidgeted in her chair, looking at Carmine anxiously. He squeezed her hand, hoping she would relax as Mr. Borza started reading.
It’s with a heavy heart that I write this. I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you all. Everything I’ve done has been with you in mind, and I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve always tried to do what I felt was best. I don’t expect you all to understand, but I hope with time you’ll find peace with my decision. I assure you I have.
During the next twenty minutes, property was divided and personal items were bequeathed. The house in Durante went to Dominic, while the place in Chicago was officially turned over to Carmine. Tess was given a vast savings bond—as was Dia, who couldn’t be there—while he left his mother enough money to sustain her.
Celia was left a bunch of mementos, while Corrado was given the key to a storage unit. The rest of his assets, his stocks and bank accounts, were to be split equally between Carmine and Dominic.
The reading was winding down when Haven’s name was finally read. The eyes of everyone in the room darted to her. She fidgeted from the attention, the apprehension clear on her face.
“I’m leaving you an envelope,” Mr. Borza read. “It seems petty in comparison to what the others have been given, but I don’t think you’ll mind. What’s inside is selfishly as much for me as it is for you, and I wish I would have delivered it in person like I originally planned, but this will have to do.”
Mr. Borza held a white envelope out to Haven and she took it carefully. Curiosity burned inside of Carmine but he knew it was none of his business, so he turned his focus back to the lawyer.
“I have one last request,” Mr. Borza read, “a favor to ask of my son, Carmine.”
Carmine rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
Everyone laughed as Mr. Borza continued. “I ask that he go to Saint Mary’s Catholic Church and meet with Father Alberto. I left something there, something I think he’ll someday need.”
Mr. Borza set the letter down on the table. “That’s it.”
Carmine glanced at Haven, fighting back the emotion flooding him, and tensed when he saw tears streaming from her eyes. She had torn the envelope open and it sat on the table in front of her, her hand clutching a piece of paper she had pulled from it.
“Tesoro, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly, reaching over and wiping the tears from her cheeks. She looked at him and shook her head before hesitantly holding the paper out to him. He took it carefully, smiling as he read the words scribbled in the middle.
You were worth it.
“We should celebrate,” Celia said. “Have a family dinner in honor of Vincent. We can go out somewhere, or I can cook.”
“I’ll do it,” Haven chimed in, shoving the paper back in the envelope.
“You don’t have to, dear.”
“I know,” she said. “I haven’t really cooked a meal in so long, since I was on my own. It’ll be nice to do it again.”