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“Mom”—this was the last time I addressed her as my mother-in-law—“we tried.”

Babe inhaled slowly before she took a step toward me. She dropped her voice to a low growl. “Look, I’ve been married a long time. Has it all been rose petals and Prosecco? No. It has not. Too much of either is no good—one gives you hives and the other gives you gas. You have to look at the long haul when you’re married, the big picture. Marriage is not about moments. It’s aboutyearsinvested. I don’t understand. How could you be unhappy? We don’t pretend that there aren’t problems in life, but you two are well suited to one another.”

“Mom.”

“It’s true. You share a common background! The same religion! You both have beautiful teeth. Our grandchildren would have perfect bites without braces. You would’ve savedthousandson orthodontist bills.” She looked around the apartment and put her hand over her mouth. “He doesn’t know that you’re leaving him? Does he?”

“I’m meeting him on his lunch break to tell him.”

“I’ll put on a pot of coffee, we’ll have a cookie and a chat, and by the time Bobby gets home from work, you’ll feel like you can start all over again!”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” I could barely get the words out because I was afraid I would cry and she would misinterpret my tears.

I don’t remember what Babe Bilancia said after I told her I couldn’t stay. I stopped listening. At the time, I felt strong. I stood up for myself and held my ground. I didn’t buckle, take off my coat, drop my keys, and put on a pot of coffee to please my mother-in-law and assuage her fears. I was terrified, but instead of turning on myself and making her happy, I used my fear as jet fuel to leave. But I learned something as I stood andfought for myself and my decision. I learned I couldn’t make my husband happy if I hadn’t found happiness on my own first. I was determined to start a new life, but first, as these things go, I would slip back into my old one to find a way forward.

I tuck myphone in my pocket and go back inside the house.

I slip out of my shoes at the front door.

“How was the walk with Bobby?” Mom asks.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

I join my mother, father, Joe, and Connie in the living room. They are dressed in wrinkled versions of their pressed funeral wardrobe from the morning. Joe has even loosened his tie. They look like a stack of deflated tires on their way to the junkyard.

“Everybody’s gone?” I look around.

“Cousin Diane Palermo took Aunt Lil and her family home,” Joe says.

“You want coffee?” Connie stands to go to the kitchen, and the doorbell rings.

“Just show whoever it is to the kitchen. We washed all the platters. They’re ready for pickup,” Mom says wearily. “When you die close to the holidays, everybody wants their serving platters back on the same day.”

I answer the front door. Two well-dressed people around my age, whom I have never seen before, greet me.

“Good evening. I’m Detective Campovilla. I’m here to speak with Giuseppina Baratta of Capodimonte Marble and Stone.”

I can’t speak. My mind races. What do they want with me? I haven’t had time to think about the business.

“Giuseppina.” My mother pushes me aside. “Louis Capodimonte died. I am the deceased sister. Campovilla? Is that Italian?”

“Filipino,” the detective clarifies.

“I’m Giuseppina Baratta,” I admit.

“I’m Agent Trent.” His partner, an attractive Black woman in her thirties, holds up her badge for me to inspect.

Dad, Joe, and Connie stand.

“Please come in,” Mom says as she shoves Joe in the FBI’s direction. “Our son, Joe, is an attorney.”

Campovilla looks at my brother, then at me. “You may have an attorney present. No problem.” He turns to me. “We’ve been calling you.”

“Was thatyou? I thought it was a company out of Trenton trying to sell me car insurance. Forgive me. I’ve been a little overwhelmed with the funeral and all.” I’m shaking. I’ve never dealt with the law, and I’m frightened, or maybe my blood sugar has plummeted after scarfing a slab of the Texas sheet cake.

“We need to speak to you about Louis Capodimonte,” Campovilla says.

“I would like to understand what information you’re looking for before my sister answers any questions.” Joe speaks slowly, as if he is being paid to speak by the word.