Chapter 2 - One Hour Every Night
The next morning, Nico Marcelli walked back into Bellweather’s before the restaurant opened. Mara had not touched the unusually generous tip Evelyn had left at Booth Seven.
Alone except for a broad-shouldered man named Ben Russo who remained near the door.
Mara nearly dropped a coffee pot.
“I can give the money back.”
Nico stopped.
“What money?”
“The tip.”
She pulled an envelope from her apron.
He looked at it.
Then at her.
“I didn't come for that.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I want to hire you.”
Mara blinked.
“What?”
“My mother hasn’t been able to speak freely in this family for years.”
“She can sign.”
“I know.”
“Then why doesn't anyone sign with her?”
The question escaped before Mara could stop it.
Ben Russo glanced toward the ceiling.
Nico looked at Mara for several seconds.
“Because my father wouldn't allow it.”
“And after your father died?”
His expression hardened.
“I suppose we all became very skilled at following rules made by dead men.”
That answer surprised her.
He offered her a job as Evelyn’s paid communication companion and an ASL tutor for him.
Mara immediately refused.
He doubled the salary.
She refused again.
He promised she could leave whenever she wanted.
Still she hesitated.
“I’m not a certified interpreter yet,” Mara said. “For medical appointments or legal matters, Evelyn needs someone independently qualified. And the job has to be her choice.”
“Agreed,” Nico said. “Put it in the contract.”
Finally she asked, “How much sign language do you know?”
Something uncomfortable crossed his face.
He raised one hand.
Mother.
Food.
Sorry.
Good.
His shapes were clumsy.
Maybe thirty words.
Mara stared.
“Your mother has been Deaf for twenty-seven years.”
“I know.”
“And you know thirty words?”
His eyes dropped.
“My father burned the first ASL book I brought home.”
Mara said nothing.
“I was thirteen. He told me my mother needed to learn to live in our world, not drag us into hers.”
Nico's mouth tightened.
“Eventually I stopped trying.”
Mara thought of Daniel Ellis.
She remembered hospital nurses turning their backs.
Bank tellers shouting.
Doctors assuming intelligence lived inside ears.
She looked at Nico.
“I’ll take the job.”
His shoulders loosened slightly.
“But I have a condition.”
“Name it.”
“You learn.”
He frowned.
“Learn what?”
“Her language.”
Silence.
“Properly,” Mara added. “Not thirty words.”
Ben coughed to hide a laugh.
Mara kept going.
“One hour every evening. You practice with me and take proper classes with a Deaf instructor. You make mistakes. You feel awkward. You keep going.”
Nico stared at her.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“When someone signs to you, you look at their face.”
“I look at people.”
“No, you don't.”
Ben suddenly became fascinated by the coat rack.
Mara could feel herself turning red, but she continued.
“You look at doors. Windows. Other people's hands. You look at exits.”
Nico's expression became unreadable.
“People sign with their faces too. Looking away is like hanging up the phone.”
He held her gaze.
It seemed to cost him something.
Finally he nodded.
They agreed on fixed hours, ordinary employment protections, and a salary paid through the household office. Evelyn approved the arrangement herself in writing.
“One hour every night.”
Two days later, Mara entered the Marcelli estate for the first time.
The house sat above Providence behind iron gates and old maple trees.
Evelyn was waiting on the steps.
The moment Mara stepped out of the car, Evelyn hurried forward.
You came.
She hugged her.
Then immediately pushed her away so they could use their hands.
I told Nico you would.
Mara smiled.
Evelyn pointed toward her son standing in the doorway.
He thought I was being optimistic.
Nico caught only part of the exchange.
“What did she say?”
Mara smiled sweetly.
“She said you thought she was being optimistic.”
His mother tapped Mara’s arm approvingly and shook with laughter.
“I was being cautious,” Nico said.
“Then ask her about it yourself. Lesson one starts tonight.”
For the first time, Mara saw Nico Marcelli smile.
And from an upstairs window, another man watched them.
Arthur Crane had been Nico’s father’s closest friend.
He had also been Nico’s godfather.
He had spent twenty-seven years making certain Evelyn Marcelli never finished the story she had started telling.
May you like
And now a shy waitress had walked through the front door with the one thing Arthur feared more than guns, money, or police.
A language he could not control.
