Dishonorable

Two weeks had passed, and the information Raphael had received from his source was confirmed by the official investigator. My grandfather had arrived the day following the incident. He hadn’t brought Lina with him. I hadn’t seen him yet, although I would later today. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to look at him, knowing what Lina had told me. What she’d found. Evidence of what Raphael had told me about Grandfather’s transfers of money. More than that, more information that would leave the business vulnerable if it ever got out.

I didn’t tell Raphael what Lina told me. He took good care of me while I recovered, spending time with me during the day, having dinners in my room sitting beside me on the bed. When he touched me, it was tenderly, but nothing more than that. Not once did we talk about what had happened at the chapel. It felt like the elephant in the room, but neither of us brought it up. As much as I longed for him to tell me what he’d said in the chapel wasn’t true, I didn’t want to lose the moments I had with him.

Raphael had told me what Lina had told him about my grandfather, that he was the one who’d put a bid on Villa Bellini. That Raphael had almost signed everything over to him.

I didn’t understand. Was this the land Grandfather had said he was buying for me? To keep in my name for when I lost everything? Was he going to steal Raphael’s home right out from under him just as Raphael had stolen half of Guardia Winery from us?

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It all gave me a headache.

Today, Raphael was going to take me to the winery to see the damage for myself. Then, we had a meeting with Grandfather and his attorneys about the state of things.

At the winery, we drove as far as we were allowed to go, which wasn’t very far, since the investigation wasn’t yet closed. I climbed out of the car with Raphael at my side.

“Oh, my God.”

The damage, it was unbelievable. The lands—all that remained of the bursting, healthy vines were their charred remains. A burned smell still hung in the air, and the house itself was rubble. One wall remained partially standing, and yellow tape cordoned off the area. It was still considered dangerous.

“I remember the smell of our house afterward,” Raphael said.

“I can’t believe this. What a loss. What an incredible loss.”

I shuddered, and I thought for a moment that Raphael raised his arm and hoped he meant to wrap it around me, but then he stuck his hands awkwardly into his pockets.

“Who would do this?” I asked.

“Only one name comes to mind, Sofia.”

“Moriarty.”

He nodded.

“But why? What sense would that make? Wouldn’t he then be better off to set the Amado property on fire?”

“You said your grandfather and Moriarty had some interest in the same property. I wonder if that was my property and Moriarty threatened your grandfather if he didn’t pull his bid.”

“He said that day we had lunch that Moriarty had told him the property he wanted wasn’t in his best interest to buy.”

Raphael looked out over the land but didn’t answer.

I remembered something then. “Wait a minute.” He turned to me. “The manager told my grandfather they’d installed a new security system. Is it possible there would be some video recording of that night? Maybe we could see who did this?”

“The house is destroyed. I can’t imagine anything would have survived the fire. If it had, I’m sure the police would have the evidence by now. I’m sorry, Sofia. No matter what, I never wanted this for you.”

We returned to the car and drove to Siena to meet with two attorneys and my grandfather. The offices were in the center of the touristic city in a building that dated back hundreds of years. We were quickly ushered in. Once inside, I found my grandfather, still proud but looking a little more tired, sitting at the head of a long table. Two men sat on either side of the table, going over paperwork.

They all looked up when we entered. The look my grandfather gave Raphael chilled me.

“Sofia,” he said, standing. “Raphael.”

He barely nodded in Raphael’s direction. He introduced the two attorneys, one of whom was American, the other Italian. They both set their business cards on the table.

Once we sat down, one of the attorneys started talking, going over our options now that the crop was a total loss, as well as the details of the insurance policy.

“But since arson is the cause, everything is…tied up,” my grandfather said.

“Any suspects?” Raphael asked.

“No. Do you know any?” Grandfather countered.

“Grandfather,” I said. Now wasn’t the time.

He closed his mouth and let the attorney continue. Basically, we spent an hour going over the fact that we had nothing, not until the insurance company paid out. Even the house in Philadelphia was in question.