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One

Vera

“Hey, Mom,” I whispered to the picture on the wall

Every time I cas she gave ot

“Can I take your purse?” Irene, my father’s maid, asked

“Of course, thank you”

I passed off the sht witharound the black and white tiled foyer that had beenpassed away ten years ago, the bright sunset of peonies she always loved decorated the round table in the foyer

“They alere your reeted me from the stairs

“Papa” I watched the round descend the stairs As always, he wore a dark suit, but since it was Saturday, no tie A man has to relax a little

“She always claimed this room needed a burst of color to liven it up a bit”

“Even though she picked out the color sche

He laughed with ood to have you home, Verana I wished you’d stay”

I bit backon my own”

“So independent, just like your mother”

At that, a real smile stretched my lips “Thank you”

“Although, I’rumbled

And just like that, the s”

He scrunched his nose in distaste, taking in an, striped blouse, and pearls—and cut off jean shorts

“College away has , Verana”

It’d been nice to be away in Pennsylvania To just beon my best behavior in New York

“Businesses are alaiting for the Marianos to slip up, and a family’s reputation is just as i industry We must lead by example”

“Yes, sir,” I responded dutifully They were the same words that had been drilled intocompanies from an overly traditional Italian family, I was always reminded of my place—of my role in this world