Die Again (Rizzoli & Isles, #11)(17)

“Here’s my little pumpkin,” Angela cooed as she carried Regina into the house. “Nonna’s so glad to see you. Let’s go shopping today, why don’t we? Aren’t you tired of these dirty overalls? We’ll buy you something new and pretty.”

“Don’t like pretty!”

“A dress, what do you think? A fancy princess dress.”

“Don’t like princess.”

“But every girl wants to be a princess!”

“I think she’d rather be the frog,” said Jane.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, she’s just like you.” Angela sighed in frustration. “You wouldn’t let me put you in a dress, either.”

“Not everyone’s a princess, Ma.”

“Or ends up with Prince Charming,” muttered Angela as she walked away carrying her granddaughter.

Jane followed her into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to make some more coffee. You want some?”

“Ma, I can see that something’s going on.”

“You’ve gotta go to work.” Angela set Regina in her high chair. “Go, catch some bad guys.”

“Is it too much work for you, babysitting? You know you don’t have to do it. She’s old enough for day care now.”

“My granddaughter in day care? Not gonna happen.”

“Gabriel and I have been talking about it. You’ve already done so much for us, and we think you deserve a break. Enjoy your life.”

“She is the one thing I look forward to every day,” said Angela, pointing to her granddaughter. “The one thing that keeps my mind off …”

“Dad?”

Angela turned away and began filling the coffee reservoir with water.

“Ever since he came back,” said Jane, “I haven’t seen you look happy. Not one single day.”

“It’s gotten so complicated, having to make a choice. I’m getting pulled back and forth, stretched like taffy. I wish someone would just tell me what to do, so I wouldn’t have to choose between them.”

“You’re the one who has to make the choice. Dad or Korsak. I think you should choose the man who makes you happy.”

Angela turned a tormented face to hers. “How can I be happy if I spend the rest of my life feeling guilty? Having your brothers tell me that I chose to break up the family?”

“You didn’t choose to walk out. Dad did.”

“And now he’s back and he wants us all to be together again.”

“You have a right to move on.”

“When both my sons are insisting I give your father another chance? Father Donnelly says it’s what a good wife should do.”

Oh great, thought Jane. Catholic guilt was the most powerful guilt of all.

Jane’s cell phone rang. She glanced down and saw it was Maura calling; she let it go to voice mail.

“And poor Vince,” said Angela. “I feel guilty about him, too. All the wedding plans we made.”

“It could still happen.”

“I don’t see how, not now.” Angela sagged back against the kitchen counter as the coffeemaker gurgled and hissed behind her. “Last night I finally told him. Janie, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.” And it showed on her face. The puffy eyes, the drooping mouth—was this the new and future Angela Rizzoli, sainted wife and mother?

There are already too many martyrs in the world, thought Jane. The idea that her mother would willingly join those legions made her angry.

“Ma, if this decision makes you miserable, you need to remember that it’s your decision. You’re choosing not to be happy. No one can make you do that.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true. You’re the one in control, and you have to take the wheel.” Her phone pinged with a text message, and she saw it was Maura again. STARTING AUTOPSY. RU COMING?

“Go on, go to work.” Angela waved her away. “You don’t need to bother yourself with this.”

“I want you to be happy, Ma.” Jane turned to leave, then looked back at Angela. “But you have to want it, too.”

It was a relief for Jane to step outside, take a breath of fresh cold air, and purge the gloom of the house from her lungs. But she couldn’t shake off her annoyance at her dad, at her brothers, at Father Donnelly, at every man who presumed to tell a woman what her duty was.

When her phone rang again, she answered with an irritated: “Rizzoli!”

“Uh, it’s me,” said Frost.

“Yeah, I’m on my way to the morgue. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“You’re not there already?”

“I got held up at my mom’s. Why aren’t you there?”

“I thought it might be more efficient if I, uh, followed up on a few other things.”

“Instead of barfing into a sink all morning. Good choice.”

“I’m still waiting for the phone carrier to release Gott’s call log. Meantime, here’s something interesting I pulled off Google. Back in May, Gott was featured in Hub Magazine. Title of the article was: ‘The Trophy Master: An Interview with Boston’s Master Taxidermist.’ ”