Deception (Infidelity #3)(67)
In the last year, I’d taken Demetri Enterprises international.
London was ripe for everything financial. The time zone alone set it apart.
More and more production was happening in Asia. At the start of business in London, it was the close of business in Japan and by noon, New York was waking. No wonder it was the financial mecca. And the farther I ventured from New York, the more independent Demetri Enterprises became. Of course, it wasn’t completely free of family obligation. If it were, I’d be home right now, instead of sipping a watered-down whiskey and waiting for the rest of my party to join me.
I checked my Blackberry again. Nothing from Angelina.
No doubt, she was pissed off.
Again.
I’d promised to be there. Tonight was a dinner with a new family that had moved in down the street. Part of the appeal of Rye for me had been the large parcels of land. It wasn’t like the brownstones in Brooklyn, one right on top of the next. In Westchester County we didn’t need to know our neighbors. That wasn’t my wife’s attitude. She thrived on people and community.
I tried, I did. But I didn’t have time for backyard barbeques or football games or any of the other thousands of things she wanted to do.
If it weren’t for Silvia—Carmine’s present for doing my duty nearly five years ago—I’d feel guiltier.
Who would have thought of a person as a gift?
That was essentially what Silvia had been. Five years older than Lennox, Carmine gave her to us. Yes, she was meant to help Angelina around the house, but she’d also become ours to raise. Over the last five years, her role had gone from domestic help to something between a younger sister and daughter for Angelina. At least once she was with us it stopped the talk about another child.
Fifteen years old when she arrived, Silvia was nervous and uneducated. Domestic work was all she’d ever done. Her biological mother basically sold her off as house staff to the Costellos when she was barely a teenager.
It could have been worse for her. Unfortunately, I’d been around enough to see that too. But Angelina wasn’t satisfied with a maid: she insisted on more. Silvia became her new obsession. That wasn’t to imply that she neglected Lennox—she didn’t. With a son and a daughter, Angelina was busy day and night.
Under Angelina’s tutelage, Silvia studied, passed her GED, and was now enrolled in college courses. Of course, she also helped take care of the house and was—to my great surprise—an excellent cook. In many ways Silvia had become my wife’s best friend. The change in Silvia’s demeanor since she arrived was nothing short of phenomenal. She was now confident, a quick learner, and everything that Angelina would want in a daughter. Not to mention she wasn’t homely.
When she first came to us, Silvia had been skinny and lanky. That wasn’t the case today. Though her heritage wasn’t Italian, she’d perfected the behavior. If she were met on the street, no one would know that she wasn’t a member of our family or that she’d once been sold off as nothing more than a maid.
The bell on the front door of the restaurant jingled, alerting me that someone was entering or exiting. I recognized the two men walking my direction and stood as Vincent and Jimmy-the-enforcer approached. Jimmy had worked faithfully for Carmine until his death. Vincent obviously appreciated his service. Having Jimmy the man beside the head of the family was one of the few things that hadn’t changed.
“Oren,” Vincent said with a nod as he sat, the three of us crowding near the far end of the table, back to the wall. Basic survival strategy.
Almost immediately the dark-haired waitress was back to our table. On her tray she had Vincent’s and Jimmy’s drinks. There wasn’t any need to take their order—everyone knew who they were and what they drank. In this part of town, they were regulars. Their table was always ready.
“I’m glad I was in town when you called,” I said, “What’s this about?”
“Montague.”
I almost choked on my whiskey as the name rolled off his tongue. Though I hadn’t thought about Russell Collins on a daily basis, the job Carmine had sent me on was the turning point in my life and career. I’d done my best to forget the choices made in California. It had been a risk and not one I wanted to repeat.
More than once I’d thought about the wife and daughter Russell Collins described. I may have even looked them up, taken a small peek into their lives. Perhaps it was a sense of debt that I felt for my part in the price Russell had paid.
“I recall that name,” I said nonchalantly. “What about it?”
“I don’t know for sure how their paths crossed or why,” Vincent began as a prelude to whatever he was about to ask of me. “From what my father told me, there was something about shipping, transporting tobacco up and down the coast. Montagues are best known for their tobacco. High quality.
“Anyway,” Vincent continued, “my father was able to reach some remarkable deals with the dockworkers. It was the seventies, the energy crisis. Before the big roundup and sting. Families had more respect. Old man Montague, who wasn’t too old then, was grateful.
“Years later Montague helped my father out of financial straits. There was a debt my father owed, one that with accruing interest put more than a few of our family’s assets at risk. Exhausting his usual options, my father went to Montague. They were even. Until…”