The Arrangement Vol. 26 (The Ferro Family) Page 7

  I walk over to her and fold my arms, “Hiding the babies won’t keep them safe. Your lover died here. Sean nearly died here. I won’t have my babies stolen from me! I won’t live like this. If you won’t help, then leave. I’ll track down whoever sent this letter and I’ll—”

  “You’ll what, Avery? What will you do? Please tell us.” Her voice is placid and her facial expressions match. She spreads her hands, palms up, acting like she’s placating a troublesome child.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “Even if it’s family?” She rolls her eyes, insinuating that I don’t have the guts to do whatever it takes.

  “The Campognes are not my family. You are.”

  She sighs and pinches her temples and rips the letter out of my hands. “I said I’d take care of this. You should let me, and not allow your hormones dictate irreversible actions right now. Enjoy your post-pregnancy glow and hold your babies. And name them for chrissakes.”

  I glance at Sean. He’s on his feet thinking the same thing as me. I’m certain of it. “Mother? What did you do?” He approaches slowly.

  His father straightens up. “Wait a second. You had a lover? Die here? Under my nose? Constance. How could you?”

  Constance rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why I keep you around.”

  “Yes, you do,” the man grins and it softens Connie’s hard shell. “There, now. There’s nothing to fear. Simply say it, my dear. Before it becomes completely transparent. Control the fall of the shattering pieces.”

  Constance frowns. She steeples her fingers and looks around the room. All eyes are on her when she lets out a rush of air and stands suddenly. Her silk suit is the color of fire, neither red nor orange. The hue is dark and the color is somber rather than vibrant. Her eyes dart around the table and fill with something akin to mistrust.

  “Fine,” she blurts it out as if she were under attack.

  “Use more words, dear.” Mr. Ferro doesn’t smile or let on that he’s enjoying watching her writhe. It’s almost the opposite. Like he’s trying to help her escape from some looming threat. Something big. Something she can’t face alone and won’t survive. It must be horrible. We all sit there waiting for the other shoe to drop, but Sean already knows. I can tell by the way he’s staring at her. His expression shifted, split on a blade, and the detest in his eyes makes me swing my head back towards his mother. My soon to be mother-in-law.

  “What did you do?” My finger is pointing at her. Not unkindly, but in a way that says there’s more to this story than I was led to believe. This isn’t about the note. Or my God, maybe there were other threats and she kept them from me. No, that can’t be it or Sean would have started his verbal assault by now.

  Connie runs her tongue over her teeth, beneath her lips, with her mouth shut tight. Jaw locked. Her hands unfold as the corners of her eyes crinkle. My heart drops, watching her try to find the words. The air suddenly turns thick. I don’t want to be here. I can’t stand to listen to another morally devoid reason why Constance Ferro did something to harm me. Those goddamned nightmares got so much worse because she made me think someone was going to take my baby. And that I’d be blamed. Fine, I added that last part. There’s still guilt about not knowing my mother was alive, not looking for her. The same threads of remorse were weaving a new blanket, one the size of a newborn son. A child I thought was in threatened.

  “Constance, is my son in danger?” That’s all I care about at the moment. The who, what, and why of it no longer matters to me.

  Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head. That sleek platinum bob shifts with the movement. I’ve never seen her this nervous, but she is. Her hands are shaking so she clasps them together and holds them to her heart to try to hide it, but I see. Everyone does.

  When her red lips part, fury, and relief have collided so violently within my chest that I barely register what she’s saying. “Your baby is not in danger. You do not need to take action, Avery. Sean.” She nods at her son and parts her hands after taking a deep breath, “because I sent the letter.” Her expression tilts and morphs into one I’ve never seen on her before.

  Sean is about to tear into Constance when his father raises his hand in the universal symbol to stop. I’ve never seen respect issued to Mr. Ferro so swiftly, but it’s granted by everyone in the room. “Tell them. They need to know what you were thinking. What you were hoping.”

  Hoping?

  Constance’s voice warbles with an emotion I’ve never heard in her voice. Her gaze drops to the table as she slowly lowers herself back into her seat and inches toward the edge, like she may run if needed. She lifts her chin and looks me in the eye. Me, the lunatic, hanging on the edge of the table with my palms plastered to the tablecloth and breathing like an ape.

  Her silvery eyes meet mine, as she confesses, “I only wanted you to come home. I wanted—”

  “So you threatened my child! What the hell is wrong with you?” I’m livid. Biting off words I want to scream, but they never find my lips. Her demeanor is so cowed that I can’t yell anymore. What the hell is going on?

  Sean is next to me in an instant. Bryan’s hand is across his forehead like he has a headache. Cassie and Sidney’s jaws are on the tablecloth, shocked. This behavior is nothing compared to other crap she’s done. Welcome to the family.

  I straighten and run a hand over my frizzing hair. It’s so humid today. I glance over at Sidney who has eyes the size of the china plates in front of her. “If you get a ransom note for Mr. Turkey, always look here first. Is that it?” The last part I say to Constance.

  Mr. Ferro is smiling and knocks back another mimosa before leaning back in his seat. His voice speaks with utter conviction. “The act of a loving grandparent. I applaud you.” He lifts a glass to his wife. “Well done.”

  Constance opens her mouth to explain, but no one will let her speak. Voices erupt from around the room hurling judgment at her like anvils. When it finally settles, I look down at her in her perfect chair, in her perfect home, that was perfectly empty before I came along. I fight the empathy I feel for her. I was alone before I met her. I know what that feels like, rich or poor. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  “Constance,” my voice is level, even, “that was the worst thing you could have done to me. Do you know how long it took me to stop looking over my shoulder? You heard me wake up screaming at night when we were in the Caribbean. I know you heard me falling apart. How could you do this? Are you trying to break me completely?” My voice is no longer accusatory. I sincerely want to know. The room is quiet. No one eats, drinks, or touches a piece of silver for fear of making a sound.

  “Nothing will break you, Avery. Nothing.” The way she says it, with utter certainty makes me feel stronger. It pushes the bloody wedding gown dreams far away. “But then you came here and they settled a bit. Everything settled. That entire addition was for you. Not Sean. Not the babies, but you. As a mother, as a woman, there are times when you must become a pillar of stone. And there are times you just need to relax and have a place that is secure enough that you can do so.”

  “And?” I push, knowing damn well that philanthropy wasn’t the epicenter of her motives.

  “And I wanted the babies to know me. I thought once you came back home, that you’d be around more. But you weren’t. Understandably so. You both have endured a great deal of suffering and needed time. But there’s nowhere safer than right here.”

  “Constance.” I scold her as I fold my arms over my chest. “Tell me the real reason this instant or I’m walking away for good. I’m done with your games. Don’t play them with me if you trust me. If I’m a Ferro, treat me like one.”

  “I am.”

  “Then treat me like I’m you. You wouldn’t stand for this. If I devised this concoction so that I could move into my tiny little house out in Apaquogue, you’d have me declared unfit to be a mother. You’d do anything.” My tirade falls short as I turn my head toward Sean. His molten blue eyes lost their fire somewhere arou
nd the same time as my ranting.

  “We need to trust you. Implicitly.” Sean stares at his mother.

  They’ve always butted heads, but at that moment, they seem to reach an unsaid agreement. Sean nods and stands behind me, places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes. Then he strides down the table, grabs his champagne flute, and downs it while pacing on the antique Persian rug. He turns and glances out the window. The tower of our mini-mansion can be seen from here, with the roses climbing up the stones. Gardens were added in between. To walk. For a child to play hide and seek, build forts, and fairy houses.

  Unfolding my arms, I look down at Constance. She must feel so isolated and alone. My mother helped that but she wasn’t the cure. The cure is sitting at this table. Constance accidentally pushed away the ones she loved the most—the people she wanted to protect.

  “The home is more secure now. There are fire doors throughout. Security is enhanced—” Constance is reaching, trying to think of anything to keep us from taking her grandchildren and walking out that door.

  “I don’t care about those things as much as I care about you.” There’s a shocking murmur that comes from Jon. Bryan kicks him under the table to stifle the chatter. I’m never going to get used to seeing him so serious all the time.

  My gaze flicks back to Constance and then my mother. “I was raised with the belief that family is everything. Do you agree?”

  Constance senses a trap, her eyes are wide, but her shoulders hunch forward as if defeated. As if a beratement is coming. “I do.”

  “So then just say it.”

  “What confession do you want me to admit to, Avery? That I think of you as a daughter? That I can’t stand to be here in this house alone for another second? That the echoes of laughter have brought me back to life in a way I never anticipated and I’m not ready to die yet? Or are you looking for the unconditional love that you crave so badly, no matter how much blood lies in your wake.”

  The entire tone of the conversation shifts as she lays out her thoughts, one by one, followed by a barb. My mother rises, and places a hand on my shoulder, before surrendering her seat. I slip into it and take Constance’s hand.

  “Yes.” I smile at her.

  She glances at her aged skin and my young fingers, then back up at my face. “I’m sorry?”

  “No, you’re not. So stop pretending. Stop lying to me. Just say what you want. How can I even consider it if you don’t tell me?”

  Jon raises his glass and adds, “I want in on that.”

  His mother glances at him, but not with admonishment. It’s weird. It’s like she’s actually considering my request.

  “The one thing you’ve always wanted is staring you in the face, Connie, Dearest. The way I see it, you have two choices. One, take a chainsaw to it like you usually do. Or, risk the heartbreak and hope it was worth it in the end.” Mr. Ferro lifts his glass to her, takes a sip, and places it down on the pristine white linen tablecloth.

  “I’m not a dreamer anymore.”

  “Neither am I. But reality caught up to you, and for some reason, you’re the lucky bastard who has a daughter in law who loves you and would live in a tower just to be near you. Am I right?” The last part is directed at me.

  “Since when do you know so much?”

  He grins. “I know a lot. I never talk. What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time? Constance may be running the war room, but I’m the backup plan. I’ve got her covered. You’re all dually safe. So there’s no reason to be defensive. Avery, do you take this woman, of blood, guts, and raw hostility to be your mother in law? Constance, do you agree to take Avery into your confidence and maintain her trust from this day forward, so help you God?”

  Sean suppresses a smile by covering his mouth with the back of his hand before plucking a croissant from a basket.

  Soft smiles glow around the edge of the table, waiting for one of us to respond. Mr. Ferro said it in a way that it could be taken seriously or tossed aside as mocking. It wasn’t a joke to me, though. So I decide to spit out the words. It’s better this way. Allies instead of enemies. The way it should be from here out.

  At the same time, we both say, “I do.”

  Shock spreads across Constance’s face like spilled paint. Her mouth opens into a small O before tears well up in her eyes. “You forgive me?”

  I shrug. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  Constance smiles softly. My mother bumps my shoulder and frowns. “Stop shrugging. Be committed with your words and actions. A shrug is neither of those things.”

  Sean stifles a laugh. The admonishment sounds like an echo from a long time ago.

  I repeat myself, without the childish gesture. “There is nothing to forgive. I admit, I love this too—everyone here. Together. Not fighting.” I smirk and look around. “It’s nice.”

  “So, the names?” Jon prompts. “The fake reason we’ve all gathered together today. If you don’t name them I will. I was thinking we shouldn’t overcomplicate it. Name them Baby 1 and Baby 2.”

  Cassie elbows him. “Jon!”

  Sean calls me to his seat as chatter breaks out up and down the table. There’s no threat. Just someone who loves us and didn’t want us to leave. Someone too afraid to admit it. Too afraid to face the rejection. That’s a much better outcome than another psycho to deal with. Happiness fills me as I take my seat at the head of the table and fill my plate with food.

  Conversations erupt in bursts of happiness. Some of them carry down the table. Like compliments on my new tower, and allowing myself to be kidnapped by a witch. Once upon a time, Bryan would have laughed at that, but not now. He’s not said much. I glance at my iWatch. There’s a text from the babysitter. She’s asking if the children can come down now. I flick YES and go back to eating, and listening to the sounds of merriment.

  Sean leans in toward me. “You’re going to make a grown man cry.”

  “I hope he smiles. If he cries, I really screwed this up.” We both smile and resume our conversations until Bryan speaks up finally.

  “I hate to rush you, but I’m flying out tonight. I need to take care of something. Avery, Sean—I’d love to hear the names you selected.” Bryan takes his napkin off his lap and places it on the table. He has the Ferro plane gassing up at Teterboro to go see Hallie. I’ve caught bits of conversations about the pilots and weather.

  Sean replies, “Of course. Avery, why don’t you do the honors?” Sean is the worst staller ever.

  I give him a look that says so, before turning to everyone. “Of course. And Bryan, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you again. To know the truth. The nanny is bringing the babies downstairs so they can be properly announced and then you can run off.”

  He nods, appreciatively, before refilling his coffee cup and lifting it to his lips. Just as he takes a pull of the dark liquid, the doors open. A woman stands between them with a child at her skirt, a little boy who isn’t taller than her hip. She carries one of my babies cradled, one in pink and one in blue, in each arm. Bryan is still drinking as I get up and walk over to her. Sean is in my wake. We relieve her of the babies and step aside. Bryan’s gaze lifts from the floor to the simple cotton skirt with a floral print, to the crisp white blouse, up her slender neck, and to her face.

  Hallie stands there eyes wide and reaches for the hand of her child, seeing Bryan before he sees her. “No. It can’t be.” Her voice is a soft whisper of shock.

  Bryan drops his cup, spilling black coffee across the white linen table, before it bounces to the floor and shatters. He jerks out of his chair so fast that it tumbles backward. Bryan glances at me and then back at Hallie. Recognizing that I brought her here as soon as I found out. But I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t believe he was alive and I actually saw him.

  Bryan rushes to her. The little boy, no more than a few years old, rushes behind his mother. Bryan slows, realizing how much time has passed. That this child is someone else’s. That she moved on her with her life. It is all
he feared. Hallie just stands there in front of him, shaking. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

  “Is it really you?” The words are raw, ripped straight from her heart.

  “Yes.”

  “How? You were dead. I held you as you died. You—” a sob stops her questions and a hand flies to her mouth.

  The child pulls on her skirt. “Mama.” He lifts his chubby hands, wanting to be picked up, wanting to hold her and stop her tears. Hallie lifts him and holds his head to her chest.

  “He’s beautiful, Hallie. He looks just like you.”

  She shakes her head. “A little, but he really looks more like his father. Those emerald eyes and that laugh. He’s never met you, Bryan, but somehow he has your laugh.”

  “He’s mine?” Bryan’s voice catches in his throat. For a second, I think he’s going to cry.

  Hallie nods. “I didn’t know until after everything happened.” She glances at Constance. “Is this why he wasn’t in the crypt?”

  Constance shrugs. My mother giggles at the gesture. The two of them have gotten very close. They’re both smiling. “The crypt is for the dead. I did what I could. Bryan did the rest.”

  “Your mother knew?” Hallie asks, looking at the table full of people.

  Bryan shakes his head. “Not until this morning on the lawn.”

  Lizzie laughs harshly. “I thought I saw a ghost.”

  “She swallowed a handful of pills and walked right past me.” Bryan explains the rest of the story, how Constance was already put through the wringer this morning over concealing the fate of her sisters’ boy from everyone.

  Hallie looks at Constance with a mixture of cruelty and relief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were in danger until the Campogne family was dealt with. You did not want to come face to face with Avery’s brother. Hate me forever if you must, but I did right by both of you.”