Page 19 of Silent Snowfall

Would I? If we’d just had honesty in our relationship, if the man I made a vow to took me seriously, would I have stood by him in that kind of life?

“You would have liked the option to try,” Nonna concluded for me.

With a sigh, I nodded.

“So, it’s not the mob you have a problem with, Rosetta.” Nonna patted my hand. “It’s the lying sonofabitch who broke your trust—and your heart.”

What she said settled on me. Thankfully, we began walking, which gave me a moment to process the revelation. I didn’t hate that we were in San Pietro Cove, living amongst the mob. It wasn’t fair to dump my heartache on this town.

“Give my friend a chance, okay?” Nonna insisted.

Tired of fighting the inevitable pull, I gave her a nod. “I do like him.”

“Oh, good!” she chirped.

I liked him enough to want to play the twisted game we’d started. I’d used the toy he gave me, but my body craved more.

“When I found out you were coming to town, I just knew you two would hit it off,” Nonna prattled and walked right past the Salted Biscoff Café where we were supposed to indulge in a peppermint hot chocolate.

“Where are we going?” I faltered.

“One quick stop,” Nonna insisted, grabbing my arm and steering me between two buildings.

I frowned. But even the alleys of the Cove were clean and without the menace that haunted metropolis passageways.

“Nonna?” I cautioned as she rapped her red, hand-knitted mitten on the metal door. “Whatcha doing?”

“Collecting my winnings.”

My jaw dropped. “Nonna!”

She waved me off. “Pshaw, nothing to worry about. I just had a little wager on the football game. That’s all.”

The metal enforced door didn’t open.

“What football game? Since when do you watch—” I gasped. “Nonna!”

My ancient, and far from decrepit, grandmother pulled the door open, prying the edge with her fingers.

“That’s weird,” she tutted. “It’s usually locked.”

Before I could tell her I had a bad feeling about this—not that she’d listen—Nonna darted into the building.

There was nothing for it but to follow her.

While the air in the dimly lit hall was definitely stale, it didn’t have the stench of mildew that accompanied such old haunts. My grandmother was a wisp of black, her kerchief flying behind her head like a shadowy tail as she scooted down the hall.

I panted and struggled to keep up with her.

Nonna disappeared behind a corner. I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, letting out a strangled sigh. This wasn’t what normal girls did with their grandmothers during Christmas. I rounded the bend, going left.

And ran smack into her.

“Nonna,” I said, but her hiss of warning cut me off.

Deep voices boomed in a heated discussion just past the partially open door.

A cold dread froze my veins. I couldn’t move. We should not be here. I had kids. They couldn’t lose a mother too!