Page 5 of Silent Snowfall

“Look, she needs this.” Uliva tapped her toe against the worn wood.

The stubborn old mule.

“What exactly am I supposed to do once I’m inside?” I asked cautiously.

Unwrapping her thick woolen blanket, the signora pulled something from the crook of her arm. I frowned. It was a doll. Made of bright red cloth, it had the creepiest smile shaped on its plastic face. There were pointed ears, pink splotches on its cheeks, and a strange cone hat on its head.

My question dripped coldly from my lips. “What is that?”

“A Shelf Elf,” the signora said proudly.

A fucking Christmas doll? “And what am I supposed to do with that?”

The devious smile on the old lady’s face made the knot in my stomach tighten.

“There’s a book,” she explained with a wave of her hand. “Adults move the Shelf Elf and kids think it reports back to Santa. It does funny things. Like a game.”

I thought I remembered one of my guys talking about this. The idea was to have the elf leave little presents, get into mischief, and the whole thing was packed with holly jolly fun.

“Absolutely not.”

Uliva dug her heels in. “Well, I certainly can’t do it. Rosetta will be suspicious. This has to be a surprise for her.”

At the mention of the granddaughter, my chest tightened. I’d seen her earlier today. Some strange burst of curiosity made me follow her and her children into the town’s small grocery store. They’d wandered the aisles of Massimo’s Mercato. Even though she’d been bundled in a purple jacket and matching fluffy scarf, she was still the same Rose I’d met during summers she spent with her grandma. Time had stopped. The bustle of shoppers faded. There had just been her.

And then one of her boys had raced over with a package of breakfast cookies, which made her smile wobble. The sad look in her eyes as she told him to put it back gutted me. Her reason that they already had breakfast food was an excuse.

But the way Rosetta had counted coins to pay for the meat made me wonder.

I knew Uliva was well off. I’d made sure her accounts were set so she wanted for nothing. But the granddaughter either was too proud to spend the money, or the signora hadn’t figured out a way to gift her the funds without them being rejected.

“Do this for me? She won’t accept me spoiling her kids, and the truth is, she needs it just as badly,” Uliva insisted, the blanket slipping slightly off her shoulders.

“So just…break in and put the toy there with gifts?”

“There’s a whole culture surrounding the myth. Take a few minutes to look up what to do.”

I glared at the toy clutched in those gnarled fingers. It wasn’t the time commitment that bothered me. I might be the boss of a criminal organization, but I always made time for the people of this town. Especially friends like Uliva. It was the idea that I had to tap into a role that wasn’t natural to me.

Intimidation. Espionage. Killing. Those were my strengths.

But asking me to be a holiday spirit full of cheer and warmth? I would rather take a bullet.

“Fine.” I plucked the doll and held it by the foot. “I can stage the cretin.”

Uliva’s wrinkles melted into a smug smile as she dropped her spare key in my hand. “I knew I could count on you.”

Chapter 3 – Rosetta

My alarm blared at the ungodly hour of six in the morning. I solved the math problem, forcing myself to sit up so that I didn’t fall back asleep. I knew before opening my email app that there wouldn’t be a job offer. A stay-at-home mom didn’t have the essential skills to market herself in the digital world. While I was organized and had great customer service, I wasn’t capable of creating content, polishing videos, or other tasks that creators wanted when hiring a virtual assistant.

I’ll find something.

Until then, I was determined to homeschool my boys. There were tons of resources online. It was good to have them at home with me. I loved not sending them away, losing them for hours while someone else watched them. It was a luxury that having a working husband had given me.

But now I was on my own.

Tugging a sweatshirt over my shoulders, I sniffled as I went downstairs to the kitchen. Andy hadn’t been a great love. His quiet devotion was nice. We’d built a life together, me at home and him the provider. Even in the last few years of the marriage, when we fought about money and the random stains on his clothing, we didn’t give up on one another. Our romance might have fizzled into nothing more than obligatory anniversary or birthday sex, but we still had a family.