Page 76 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

WAR AND PEACE

P resent. “Morning!"

Sandy rolled over to see a grinning Aunt Debbie standing at her bedside. She wore a white satin robe, her blonde hair disheveled and frizzy.

"Hi! Morning!" Sandy forced cheer into her voice. Her stomach churned with yesterday's revelations, and she'd cried herself to sleep thinking of her mother and father, remembering fragments of the past with them both.

Aunt Debbie must have sensed her distress because she sat on the bed and touched her knee gently. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Sandy lied.

"Matteo told me that Nicolas took you to the basement of this house." Debbie's expression grew serious. "Do you know who this house used to belong to?"

"Carmelo Ricci?"

Debbie nodded. "Yes. This was his kingdom. And Nicolas was his prince until now. Nicolas has an agenda; he’s not to be trusted, Sandy. He had no right to take you down there and show you what he did."

"You've seen those sketches? The drawings of me?" Sandy's voice came out smaller than she intended.

"No, sweetie. I didn't know Melo—Carmelo—could even draw. Kathy never mentioned that he had that talent. Apparently, it was something he did in private, and Nicolas was wrong to violate the privacy, whether Carmelo is dead or alive. I'm sorry he showed them to you."

Sandy pulled her knees up to her chest. "You wanted me to read the diaries.

I stopped at my daddy being tricked into going to war.

But before that, I read about New Orleans.

They seemed so happy—Mama and Carmelo. Too happy.

" She paused, gathering courage. "Is that where I was.

.. made? When they were happy and together? "

Debbie shrugged. "I suppose the diary will tell you the exact truth. But yes, it was around that time that your mother and father made you out of love. Your mama was so happy in New Orleans. The happiest I think I’ve ever known her to be.”

"I don't want to read them anymore." The words tumbled out. "I can't, Auntie. All they do is confuse me, and then I have these dreams?—"

"What dreams?" Debbie asked.

"I don't remember. When I wake up, they're gone.

Just confusion left behind." Sandy's frustration mounted. "Tell me the truth. Be honest with me. Nicolas said I had an accident that he was responsible for. He said before the accident, I knew Carmelo Ricci was my father, but Mom erased it. Said Mama told me lies about who my Daddy was before she sent me away to keep me from him. Are they enemies or not? I don’t understand.”

"They aren’t enemies. But for a time they were," Debbie said.

"Then what happened? Damn it!" said Sandy. "I know I'm different. That I'm forgetful, and sometimes I block things. But I haven't been taking my medicine—not since Mama died. And guess what? I'm fine!"

"You listen to me!" Debbie grabbed her arm firmly.

"That medicine stops your seizures. Yes, it affected your memory. Made you forgetful at times. And yes, it was bad at first—you had to relearn who we all were. So your mother gave you a world without the pain and the shame she carried. Her and Carmelo loved you enough to give you what they never had. The ability to live free of our legacies. Those diaries help you reach her and learn the truth, but that medicine keeps you whole! You hear me? You take your medicine, or the seizures will come back.”

Sandy flinched at the intensity of the words and the grip on her arm. "Yes, ma'am."

Debbie's grip relaxed, her voice softening. "The truth is, Ely was your father, too. He was there the day your mom gave birth. He pulled you out of her. He was there when you took your first steps, taught you how to talk. He loved you, and he went to war to give you a future he couldn’t afford. Your mother mourned him for so long, I didn’t think she’d ever get past it.

She blamed herself for his death. It nearly destroyed her when she found out the truth. "

“That Carmelo sent him to war to bring her home? I read it, Auntie, and she did blame herself in the diaries. She wanted to die,” Sandy said.

"That’s the past.” Debbie's eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"She did her best to give you a normal life, but Carmelo Ricci wouldn't let her go.

And eventually, she realized she didn't want to let go of him either.

It's this thing between them and us. I'd call it crazy if my thing with Matteo weren't even crazier than your mom’s story.” She managed a watery smile.

"Do you remember anything about the time you spent with Carmelo as a little girl?

Anything about a medallion you used to play with? It had red rubies on it."

Sandy's eyes widened. "I... yes, I remember. I saw it in the drawings too, in that room. I would hide it from him. I was little, and I remember him going to the safe and giving it to me. He talked to me… taught me… Italian? And we would play a game. I dream about it, and other things too. Him, his voice, but sometimes he doesn’t have a face.”

Debbie leaned forward. "Where? Where did you hide it? Can you remember?”

"I don't know. I was just a kid. I only remember the game."

"You have to remember, baby. It's important,” Debbie said.

Sandy closed her eyes, trying to grasp the wispy memories. "I don't know. I'd play with it, and then he would look for it. We were at a house. A big house. It was scary when I lost him, but he would find me, and he would find it. Then…”

"This house?" Debbie asked.

"I was a kid," Sandy said helplessly. "I don't know. But it could be."

Debbie nodded slowly. "Okay. It's okay."

"Did I do something wrong?" Sandy asked.

"No, sweetie." Debbie pulled her into a warm hug. "It's time for all this to end." She pulled back, brushing Sandy's hair from her face. "I need you to get dressed. You have a visitor."

"Who?"

“Willa. She’s arriving soon, and we will meet her at the airport. And guess who else? Aunt Janey is in town. She's at the house waiting for you. Coffey is here, too. We're all going over to see them.”

"Really? Really?" Sandy's face lit up for the first time. "I haven't seen Coffey or Janey and Willa in so long!"

"I know." Debbie stood, smoothing her robe. "Go to Daphne’s room and pick something to wear. Matteo had clothes bought for her by the women in this family, and her room decorated. She has a lot there. Take whatever you want. Tell her I said it. Let's see what the day brings."

“Auntie?”

“Yes?” Debbie said at the door.

“I’m happy for you. I really do like the Penny Man for you. I’m glad you’re a family again,” Sandy said.

“We’re all family. That’s the secret. No matter what happens or who tries to hurt us, or how much we hurt each other, we survive because we’re family,” Debbie winked. “Now let me go give the Penny Man some sugar so we can get this day started.”

Sandy laughed and smiled. The door closed. Sandy dropped back on her pillows, and her head turned toward the window. She thought of the game she played with the man with no face. She was beginning to remember. If she took her medicine, would the memories stop? She had to wonder.

"The Feds don't think I'm dead?" Carmelo's voice cut through the tension.

Ernesto's gaze slipped to Kathy, who stared back unflinchingly. Her presence at the table—a violation of every tradition—made him hesitate.

Carmelo's jaw tightened with restraint. "Look at me, not her. I told you—she sits in on all meetings going forward. This affects her and our daughter."

Ernesto exhaled slowly. The consigliere had counseled generations of powerful men, but Carmelo defied every rule.

From his obsessive control of Harlem to this insane anonymity escape scheme, nothing followed tradition.

How could he advise a Don who shared his crown with a woman—a Black woman, no less?

"Speak." The single word carried lethal weight.

Ernesto flinched. "There's one Fed who won't let it go.

He's investigating Ms. Kathy, particularly her past alliance with Nicky Barnes and then Frank Lucas.

His theory? When the Black Council fell, you two disappeared together, taking a lot of the trafficking money with you.

He's using the media to spread it. Soon they'll squeeze the families for information. "

"And Matteo?" Carmelo asked.

"He married Debbie. At your mother's grave."

Kathy's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Good for them."

"He's also demanding his son be accepted into the family. That's... problematic. The kid?—"

"Junior." Kathy's correction was sharp. "His name is Junior."

"Of course. Forgive me." Ernesto swallowed.

"Junior and Nicolas have history. His ties to Frank Lucas complicate things. Matteo's moving too fast—transferring property, accounts. I can't intervene quickly enough. And your son Nicolas is on the warpath, secretly conspiring to take down his uncle. I think he’s making moves to kill him. To take over. The kid lost it when he saw you left him scraps in the Will. He’s spending too much time cozying up to your enemies. And the feds are watching everything.”

Carmelo's fingers drummed once on the table. "It's Matteo’s family—his choice. Nicolas is my problem. I think I know how to solve it.”

"Don Battaglia won't accept these fractures. Mancini's worse—they see you as Americans playing at being Mafioso. That medallion represents tradition, but if Matteo shows up with his half-Black son to the families, they will all implode to keep Junior out.” Ernesto spread his hands helplessly.

"Interesting." Kathy's voice could have frozen blood. "That medallion was protected by a Black woman for decades. Your precious traditions exist because she preserved them."

Ernesto bowed his head, chastened. "Much respect to Mama Stewart. I'm only conveying reality. The families prefer Nicolas. Unless you rise from the dead?—"

"Giovanni Battaglia." Kathy turned to Carmelo, her mind already three moves ahead. "His son. How old?"

"Twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. Fresh from college."

"And half-Irish, you said." Her eyes gleamed with calculation. "His Sicilian father broke tradition for love. Left Sicily and started his Mafia empire with the Camorra. Perhaps Giovanni will understand Junior's position."

Ernesto watched them communicate without words—a look, a gesture, perfect synchronization.

"We go to Italy," Kathy continued, her strategy crystallizing. "The entire family. Naples."

"What?" Ernesto sputtered.

"She's right." Carmelo's approval energized her further. "Matteo, Debbie, all the children—including Sandy. We take Nicolas and Nina to get them away from the conspirators. To deal with my… son. A family reunion beyond the Fed's reach."

"Getting you two out of Quebec, I can manage. Convincing Matteo?—"

"I know where the medallion is." Kathy's bombshell silenced the room.

Ernesto's eyes bulged. "Where?"

"Our daughter played a hiding game with it years ago.

Somehow, she brought it from Jersey to Harlem.

" Kathy's fingers intertwined with Carmelo's—united, unbreakable.

“Right before my Mama died, I found it in bed with her. She thought it was her treasure.” Kathy looked over to Carmelo.

“She wanted her Papa to come to our house and find it. To stay with us.”

Carmelo blinked.

“I remember now. What she said. She said Papa was coming and he would stay with the treasure. That’s what she meant, that’s why she brought it back instead of hiding it in your place. So you could find her.”

Carmelo smiled.

Kathy sighed. “I thought it was Mama’s. Daddy, before he died, started buying her expensive jewelry she refused to wear. It was different, really pretty. I placed it in her casket."

" Madonna! " Ernesto crossed himself. "You're certain?"

"Positive."

Carmelo took control seamlessly. "You'll inform Matteo.

Get someone from the family to agree to dig up Brenda Freeman.

That will convince him to arrange the Naples trip as a family vacation; the Feds won't question.

While Matteo retrieves his crown, we'll have already laid groundwork with Giovanni. "

"Giovanni's young, impulsive. Your wife's race?—"

"If the Battaglias and Mancinis refuse us," Kathy interrupted sweetly, "I'll simply bake them a cake and we'll help ourselves to what’s left.”

Carmelo's laughter filled the room. Ernesto paled, understanding the threat beneath her honeyed words. Now facing two killers, united by a single cause. La famiglia.

"It's perfect,” Kathy said, her hand tightening on Carmelo's. "Together. And best of all, we get to say goodbye to our kids, and to the past. We get to start over.”

"Together," Carmelo confirmed.