Page 1 of Silent Snowfall

Chapter 1 – Rosetta

There was a good six inches of snow on the road. My knuckles were white from the long drive down from East Harlem with an hour spent in zero visibility. Why? Why had I decided today was the best possible day to make the trip? We could have come yesterday and beaten the storm. Or we could have waited a week.

And lived on the street?

With a sigh, I shook my head and turned down Via Napoli, which hadn’t been plowed yet. The wheels on my car spun and spluttered in the thick blanket of white covering the tar. But…we’d made it. San Angelo kept us safe, and I would remember to light a candle whenever my grandmother drug us to church.

The cozy neighborhood was so well insulated that only the brightest strands of lights were visible through the snow. The road, however, had two sets of tire tracks cutting through it, and when I discovered that, I followed them, thankful someone had been this way in a four-wheel drive vehicle. No one had bothered to shovel, and it could be hours before the city plow came by.

Nonna’s house was a cheery yellow, brick two-story.

A sob choked my throat when I saw our destination.

Straight out of a picture book, white icicle lights hung from the eaves. There was garland on the front porch railings, and a large wreath with a big red bow on the front door. I sure as hell hoped my grandmother hadn’t shimmied up a ladder to hang those lights herself. Given that she was two years shy of eighty, she shouldn’t be doing those kinds of things, but try to tell an elderly Sicilian woman that she should slow down. Just try it! I wasn’t going to try and change her. I didn’t want a scolding or a cuffed ear.

“Her driveway is clear,” I marveled under my breath. Her porch was swept clean, the snow was gone from the railings, and her decorations were visible.

There’d been a plow on the main roads of San Pietro Cove, but not these side streets, which meant residents hadn’t cleared themselves out. But leave it to Nonna to already have her drive cleared. She probably began at the first flake, daring the white stuff to stick on her black tar longer than a few seconds.

I pulled the car onto the smooth pavement, put it in park, and dropped my head on the wheel. We made it. My body started to shake. The white-knuckle drive had been incredibly stupid. If anything had happened….

A small body stirred in the backseat.

Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head to glance in the rearview mirror. They wouldn’t see me falling apart. I kept it together this whole time for their sake. The same as I’d done for the last weeks—and months—before now. I could fake it a little longer, keeping my mental fatigue for a shower where I could break down in peace.

A pair of wide, brown eyes looked sleepily around.

I forced a smile and said softly, “We’re here.”

Matteo nodded once, then promptly punched his brother’s shoulder.

“We’re here!” he bellowed.

I winced. “Mat!”

But Oliverio came to life with vengeance. “Hey!”

Oli swung wide and smacked Mat full in the chest.

They were going to tussle. Great. We weren’t even going to make it inside before they started their antics.

“Stop that,” I said quickly. “Remember what I said about best behavior?”

My words went right over the twins’ heads. They shoved one another. Mat leaned back and put his feet up. With a stifled roar of frustration, Oli tried to grapple with his brother.

“Put your boots on and go wrestle in the snow,” I cried out in frustration.

That made them pause.

“Really, Mom?” Oli sounded far too excited at the prospect.

Mat spun his little butt around and shoved his feet in his boots. He was out the door, yelling like a maniac five seconds later, his twin already hot on his heels. They made it to the snowbank, which had to be four feet high, at the edge of the driveway before they tackled one another. Neither bothered with their coats or other winter gear.

I sighed and cut the engine.

Immediately the blast of cold air from the still open door in the back flooded the vehicle, defying the heat the poor car had been trying to churn. I grabbed my worn eggplant-colored coat from the front seat, tugged it on, and reached into the pocket for my hat and gloves. The shivers began before I was fully wrapped up.

Maybe we would move south. Florida was sunny this time of year.