Chapter 10 - One Spoonful More
Six months later, Claire Donnelly tried to quit.
Nicholas refused to accept her resignation.
Claire placed the envelope on his desk.
“You cannot refuse.”
“I just did.”
“That isn’t how employment works.”
“It is here.”
“You are proving my point.”
Nicholas leaned back.
“What point?”
“You have control issues.”
“I’ve improved.”
“Last week you assigned two guards to follow me to Costco.”
“You bought twelve pounds of butter.”
“It was on sale.”
“That’s not the issue.”
“It was an excellent price.”
Nicholas stared at her.
Claire stared back.
Then he smiled.
That still annoyed her.
Mostly because it worked.
The months after Alessandra’s arrest had changed the Caruso estate.
Dr. Margaret Hale was captured in Montreal.
Her testimony connected years of foundation fraud to Alessandra.
Vincent cooperated with prosecutors and stepped away from every Caruso business.
Damian accepted a plea agreement for his involvement.
Nicholas visited him once.
Only once.
Claire never asked what they discussed.
Some wounds did not need spectators.
Nicholas did something nobody expected.
He began dismantling the criminal parts of the family empire.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Painfully.
Properties moved into legitimate corporations.
Illegal operations were cut loose.
Men who had spent decades depending on Caruso money were paid out or prosecuted depending on what they had done.
There were threats.
There were fights.
There were three attempts to force Nicholas to reverse course.
He didn’t.
Claire sometimes wondered whether Alessandra’s final words had done the opposite of what she intended.
Michael had tried to change.
Nicholas decided to finish it.
Evelyn changed too.
She gained fourteen pounds.
She walked without assistance most days.
She complained constantly about Claire’s portion sizes.
Then ate everything.
Her favorite breakfast became cinnamon toast.
Her favorite lunch was chicken salad.
Her favorite dinner remained whatever Claire cooked while pretending not to care whether Evelyn liked it.
And tonight, for the first time since the poisoning, Evelyn Caruso was hosting a family dinner.
Twelve guests.
Not fifteen.
Not criminal associates.
Not suspicious cousins.
People she actually wanted at the table.
Claire should have been thrilled.
Instead she was quitting.
Nicholas picked up the resignation letter.
“Why?”
“I was hired for six months.”
“I can extend the contract.”
“That isn’t why.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Double.”
“Nicholas.”
“Triple.”
“This is exactly why.”
He frowned.
Claire sat across from him.
“I don’t want to be your employee.”
Something in his face fell.
Claire almost enjoyed it.
Almost.
Nicholas looked down.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I think I do.”
“You look like someone shot your dog.”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“Emotionally, you do.”
He stared.
Claire reached across the desk and took the resignation letter.
Then tore it in half.
Nicholas looked confused.
“I don’t want to be your employee because I’m opening a restaurant.”
His eyebrows rose.
“What?”
“Small place.”
“Where?”
“West Loop.”
“When?”
“Two months.”
He stared at her.
“You rented a building without telling me?”
“Yes.”
“You could have asked me.”
“For what?”
“Help.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
He looked offended.
Claire smiled.
“I needed to know I could build something that wasn’t yours.”
Nicholas slowly nodded.
Fair.
“And,” Claire continued, “your mother invested.”
Nicholas stood.
“What?”
Claire burst out laughing.
“You should see your face.”
“My mother invested in your restaurant?”
“Twenty percent.”
“Without telling me?”
“She said it was good for you.”
Nicholas marched toward the door.
Claire grabbed his sleeve.
“Sit down, mafia boy.”
He looked at her.
“What did you call me?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m trying to retire from that description.”
“Property developer boy doesn’t have the same rhythm.”
He finally smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“What happens to us?”
Claire’s laughter faded.
“What do you mean?”
“When you leave.”
“I’m moving twelve miles away.”
“You know what I mean.”
Claire looked at him.
For six months they had avoided naming whatever existed between them.
There had been kisses.
Several.
Arguments.
Hundreds.
Breakfasts at midnight.
Hospital visits.
One disastrous attempt at a date during which Nicholas received four security calls and Claire threatened to throw his phone into Lake Michigan.
They had slept beside each other once.
Only slept.
After a nightmare left Nicholas sitting upright at three in the morning convinced he had heard his mother collapse again.
Claire had held his hand until dawn.
Neither mentioned it afterward.
Now Nicholas looked almost nervous.
She had never seen Nicholas Caruso nervous in front of armed men.
But apparently Claire Donnelly could accomplish what bullets could not.
“What do you want to happen?” she asked.
“You hate when I answer questions with questions.”
“Yes.”
“I learned from you.”
She smiled.
Nicholas came around the desk.
“I want you.”
Claire’s pulse jumped.
“Very poetic.”
“I’m not finished.”
“Oh.”
“I want you when you’re yelling at me.”
“Frequent.”
“When you’re feeding my mother.”
“Also frequent.”
“When you steal my side of the bed.”
Claire blinked.
“We have shared a bed once.”
“You took eighty percent.”
“I need room.”
“You’re five-foot-five.”
“I sleep expansively.”
Nicholas shook his head.
Then took both her hands.
“I want the ordinary things.”
That silenced her.
Nicholas looked down at their hands.
“I know how to protect a building.”
He paused.
“I know how to find someone who threatens my family.”
Another pause.
“I know how to survive things I probably shouldn’t have survived.”
He looked at her.
“But I don’t know how to do this.”
Claire’s heart hurt.
“What is this?”
“Stay when nobody is forcing you.”
Her expression softened.
“Nicholas.”
“I’m trying not to order you.”
“Very impressive.”
“It’s extremely uncomfortable.”
She smiled.
“Keep going.”
He took a breath.
“I love you.”
Claire stopped breathing.
No orchestra.
No dramatic storm.
No gunshots.
Just Nicholas standing in his father’s old office looking terrified.
Claire whispered, “You love me?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s romantic.”
“I think maybe the pantry.”
“You fell in love with me because someone tried to freeze me?”
“No.”
He frowned.
“Maybe before.”
“The potatoes?”
“Possibly.”
Claire laughed.
Nicholas smiled.
“You laughed at me.”
“I laugh at you constantly.”
“You told my mother she could say no.”
Claire stopped laughing.
Nicholas continued.
“Nobody had told her that in months.”
His eyes softened.
“You walked into a house full of people terrified of me and told me I was doing everything wrong.”
“You were.”
“I know.”
Claire looked up.
“I love you too.”
Nicholas froze.
“You do?”
“Oh, don’t make me repeat it.”
He kissed her.
Claire wrapped both arms around his neck.
This kiss did not last five seconds.
Or ten.
It lasted until someone loudly cleared her throat from the doorway.
They separated.
Evelyn stood there.
“You’re late.”
Claire looked at the clock.
“Dinner.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes.
“What did you think I meant?”
Nicholas straightened his jacket.
“Mom.”
“I’m sixty-eight, Nicholas. I know kissing exists.”
Claire turned red.
Evelyn smiled.
“Come downstairs.”
The dining room looked different that night.
Claire had insisted.
No old silver.
No formal place cards.
No guards standing inside the room.
Simple ceramic plates.
Fresh flowers.
Candles.
Food served family-style.
Evelyn sat at the head.
Nicholas sat beside Claire.
Rosa sat with them for the first time in twenty-seven years instead of serving.
Marco was persuaded to remove his earpiece during dessert.
Everyone talked.
Nobody whispered.
Nobody inspected their spoons.
When Claire brought out chocolate cake, Evelyn looked offended.
“That slice is enormous.”
“You’ll survive.”
“You’re trying to make me fat.”
Claire placed the plate in front of her.
“You’re welcome.”
Evelyn took a bite.
Then another.
Nicholas squeezed Claire’s hand beneath the table.
She looked at him.
He whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He looked around.
At his mother.
At the table.
At the ordinary noise of safe people eating dinner.
“For bringing her back.”
Claire shook her head.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“No.”
Claire looked toward Evelyn.
“She came back herself.”
Dessert ended around ten.
Guests drifted away.
Claire remained in the kitchen packing leftovers.
Evelyn entered carrying two spoons.
“Sit.”
Claire obeyed.
Evelyn placed a small bowl of pudding between them.
“One bowl?”
“One bowl.”
Claire smiled.
They each took a spoon.
Evelyn looked at hers for a long moment.
Six months earlier, Claire might have worried.
Now she waited.
Evelyn tasted.
Swallowed.
Then smiled.
“Vanilla.”
Claire laughed.
“What did you expect?”
“Flowers.”
The joke came easily now.
That mattered.
Evelyn took another spoonful.
“You know something?”
“What?”
“The first day you arrived, I hated you.”
Claire looked offended.
“You threw soup at me.”
“Not technically at you.”
“The distinction is comforting.”
“I thought Nicholas had hired another person to watch me fail.”
Claire’s smile faded.
Evelyn continued.
“Then you ate your own lunch.”
“Scandalous.”
“You didn’t care whether I joined you.”
“I cared.”
“You didn’t show it.”
Claire nodded.
“That was the point.”
Evelyn reached across the table and took her hand.
“You gave me back something everyone else had accidentally taken away.”
“What?”
“Choice.”
Claire squeezed her fingers.
Evelyn looked toward the doorway.
Nicholas stood there.
Listening.
His mother smiled.
“And you gave him something too.”
Claire glanced at him.
“What?”
“Someone who tells him no.”
Nicholas sighed.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
Claire laughed.
Evelyn finished the final spoonful and pushed the bowl away.
“Now I’m going to bed.”
Nicholas approached.
“I’ll walk you upstairs.”
“I can walk myself.”
“I know.”
Evelyn looked at him.
Then smiled.
“All right.”
Mother and son walked toward the hallway.
Claire remained in the kitchen.
Nicholas turned back.
“Coming?”
Claire looked around the room.
Six months earlier, she had entered this house carrying knives, two peppermints, and enough skepticism to insult a saint.
She had expected a difficult client.
She found a poisoned woman.
A terrified son.
A family built on secrets.
A traitor at the table.
And, somehow, a place for herself.
Claire switched off the kitchen lights.
“Yes.”
She followed Nicholas upstairs.
Behind them, the old dining room stood empty.
Clean plates.
Safe spoons.
No fear.
And on the kitchen counter sat a small bowl with one final spoonful of vanilla pudding.
This time, nobody needed to convince Evelyn Caruso to eat it.
She had simply decided when she was finished.
May you like
And that had been the point all along.
THE END
