Page 17 of Ricardo

“One had shoes. One had protein powder. One had poker chips. One had nothing but sunglasses.”

“All important.”

“There were seventeen pairs of sunglasses.”

“For different moods.”

“You have two moods. Hungry and insufferable.”

I raise a hand. “Enough.”

Both of them stop.

A miracle.

Temporary, but still.

I look around. “Where are Dante, Edoardo, and Alessio?”

“Dante is upstairs pretending to supervise so he doesn’t have to carry anything,” Matteo says.

Tomasso nods. “Edoardo is actually supervising. Alessio is missing.”

“Missing?” I ask.

“Emotionally,” Matteo says. “Physically, he is somewhere on the property.”

A crash comes from deeper inside the house.

Everyone goes still.

Then Alessio shouts, “I’m fine!”

A second voice, likely Edoardo’s, says, “What about the thing you dropped?”

Tomasso grins. “Found him.”

I close my eyes for one second.

When I open them, Matteo looks apologetic, and Tomasso looks delighted.

“This,” I say, “is why your fathers drink.”

“My father drank before us,” Tomasso says.

“Because he sensed what was coming.”

Matteo presses his lips together like he is trying not to laugh.

“Why are you not hiring someone to do this?” I ask patiently.

“Where's the integrity in that?” Tomasso says indignantly.

Dante, from the top of the stairs, says, “I think integrity went out the window the moment you brought a headless statue onto the property.”

“Art is supposed to provoke,” Tomasso insists.

Dante points at him. “It provoked Matteo into threatening to move out before he moved in.”