Chapter 19 - Thirty-Seven Candles
Three months later, St. Bridget's reopened.
The fire had destroyed part of the sacristy and smoke-damaged the nave, but the old brick walls survived. So did locker 314, though federal evidence technicians had emptied it long before the repairs began.
The Moretti case became national news.
Salvatore and Vincent were indicted on racketeering, conspiracy, fraud, bribery, and charges connected to Paula's murder. Several public officials fell with them. Teresa entered a cooperation agreement. She moved away and wrote me a letter I had not decided how to answer.
Claire sold her condo, entered treatment for gambling addiction, and began the humiliating, slow process of untangling the identity theft she had committed against me.
I did not forgive her all at once.
I did let her come to dinner.
That was different.
Stefano spent weeks with federal investigators. He admitted to crimes connected to his earlier years in the family organization, turned over financial records, and negotiated an agreement that included restitution, probation, and the sale or restructuring of several businesses. He was not innocent. He stopped asking anyone to pretend he was.
That mattered to me.
On the day St. Bridget's reopened, Mrs. Delaney insisted we hold the birthday party I was "still owed."
"Three months late," I said.
"God is not checking the calendar."
Mr. Avery brought a cake large enough for fifty people and ate two slices before dinner.
This time, the hall filled.
Coworkers. Neighbors. Parish friends. Claire. Father Michael. Marco, looking uncomfortable without a security earpiece.
At seven-ten, I looked toward the door.
No Stefano.
I told myself not to care.
At seven-fifteen, Claire touched my arm.
"Nora."
A black sedan had stopped outside.
Stefano stepped out.
No bodyguards. No dark overcoat. Just a navy suit, an old scar at his side, and a white bakery box in his hands.
He walked into the hall.
Everyone stared.
He looked only at me.
"I brought cake," he said.
Mr. Avery raised his fork. "We have cake."
Stefano glanced at him. "I was warned about you."
The room laughed.
He handed me the bakery box.
Inside was a small red velvet cake. Across the top, in simple white icing, were four words.
IT ISN'T ONLY YOU.
I had to look away for a second.
Then Mrs. Delaney began lighting candles.
"Thirty-seven?" Stefano asked.
"Thirty-eight soon enough," I said.
"Then we should not waste this one."
We gathered around the table.
I closed my eyes.
"For the year behind me, thank you for what stayed..."
This time the whole room answered.
"...and thank you for what left."
I opened my eyes.
Every chair was full.
But the only person I saw was Stefano.
Then his phone buzzed.
He checked the screen, and his face changed.
"What is it?" I asked.
He turned the phone toward me.
A message had arrived from Paula's old number.
May you like
One sentence.
You finally showed up.
