Chapter 10 - Tempo è Tutto
Ten years later, the autumn wind carried the scent of salt and pine up from the Brooklyn harbor, rustling the high oak branches that shaded the grand estate on the hill.
The house no longer felt like a fortress built on secrets. The iron gates were open wide during the day, welcoming delivery trucks, gardeners, and the cheerful chatter of children playing tag on the sprawling emerald lawn where the dry fountain had once stood.
In the third-floor study, the tall arched windows were propped open to let in the crisp October breeze.
Lorenzo Duca sat at the large mahogany desk, his hair touched with silver at the temples, looking older in years but lighter in spirit than he ever had at thirty-eight. His leather gloves sat permanently folded inside the bottom drawer, unused and forgotten.
The middle drawer of his desk was unlocked. Inside, resting on the dark green felt beside the steel pocket watch engraved with Tempo è tutto, sat a brand-new, framed photograph.
It showed a thirteen-year-old girl in a crisp blue blazer holding the valedictorian trophy at her middle school graduation, flanked by a smiling Sophia in a bright yellow dress and an older, dignified man with a gentle smile standing proudly in the background.
A soft knock sounded at the study door.
"Come in," Lorenzo said.
The door swung open, and a young woman with curly brown hair and bright, intelligent eyes stepped inside, carrying a thick leather-bound ledger under her arm. She wore a small gold pendant around her neck—not a lion’s head, but a tiny, delicate silver dinosaur.
"Zio Lorenzo," thirteen-year-old Emma said with a bright grin, setting the ledger down on the edge of his desk. "Mom says if you don't come down to the dining room in five minutes, the pasta is going to get cold, and she's not saving any of the garlic bread for you."
Lorenzo smiled—a real, wide, unreserved smile that reached his eyes—and stood up from his chair. He reached into his vest pocket, pulled out the heavy steel pocket watch, and clicked the case open to check the time.
May you like
"Tell your mother," Lorenzo said, wrapping a warm arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the stairs together, "that time is everything, but right now, dinner is much more important."
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed twelve times as they walked down the sunlit stairs, the house ringing with the sound of laughter, life, and a peace that had taken forty years to arrive.
