Chapter 13 - OCTAVIA RETURNS TO THE TABLE
Two years after the staircase incident, Octavia attended her first Carbone family dinner.
Only because Camille asked.
Rosalie agreed.
Vito reluctantly agreed.
Conditions:
Private.
No business discussion.
No trust conversation.
No surprise gifts.
No manipulation disguised as nostalgia.
Grace said:
“You cannot put that last one in a dinner invitation.”
Vito said:
“Watch me.”
Octavia arrived in navy.
No diamonds except wedding ring from a marriage long over.
She looked nervous.
Good.
Leo, now two, did not know who she was.
Rosalie introduced:
“This is Cousin Octavia.”
Not “Aunt.”
Not title implying closeness.
Accurate.
Leo stared.
Then offered her a cracker.
Children.
Octavia took it.
“Thank you.”
Camille watched closely.
Dinner was awkward.
Then normal.
Then awkward again.
At one point Leo dropped a spoon.
Octavia bent to pick it up.
Rosalie tensed reflexively.
Octavia noticed.
She stopped.
“May I?”
Rosalie exhaled.
“Yes.”
Tiny.
Meaningful.
After dinner Octavia asked to speak with Vito.
He looked at Rosalie.
She nodded.
They stood outside.
Octavia said:
“I used to think you had everything.”
Vito laughed.
“You lived in three houses.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
She looked through the glass at Rosalie, Leo, Camille.
“You had people who loved you without depending on your title.”
Vito considered.
“Sometimes.”
“My mother loved control.”
“So did my father.”
“So did I.”
“Yes.”
She smiled sadly.
“You still do.”
Vito almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“Difference?”
“I’m trying not to call it love.”
That landed.
Octavia nodded.
“I’m sorry for Rosalie.”
“You told her.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry for Leo.”
“He won’t remember.”
“That doesn’t change it.”
Good answer.
“And Camille.”
“That one will take longer.”
“I know.”
Vito looked at her.
“Why are you here?”
“Because she asked.”
No hidden agenda.
Good.
Then:
“I don’t expect to be family the way I was.”
“You are family.”
She looked surprised.
Vito continued.
“That doesn’t mean access.”
Another distinction.
Octavia nodded.
“I understand.”
For now, enough.
Before leaving, she handed Vito a sealed envelope.
He stared.
She laughed softly.
“Relax.”
“What?”
“My mother’s diary.”
Helena.
The one Nicholas wanted burned.
“I think it explains why she hated Article Nine.”
Vito took it.
“Anything dangerous?”
“Emotionally.”
He sighed.
“Of course.”
He did not open it that night.
May you like
Leo had a fever.
Family history waited.
