Free Footsteps by Susan Fanetti Page A

doughnut.
Maybe some other time?”
     
    “Okay but I don’t know when Mrs. D. will
bring doughnuts again. And I don’t live here all the time. Only
sometimes.” He looked up at Carlo. “Daddy, how many days do we live
here now?”
     
    “Seven more days, pal.” He looked from his
son to Bina; her eyes were on him—in the sunlight he saw that they
were hazel—and that feeling of something came over him
again. He barely caught himself from taking the steps that would
close the distance between them. What was going on here?
     
    Trey counted and then held up seven fingers;
he had to shove his books under his arm to do so. “This is seven
many. That’s a lot. Maybe we’ll have doughnuts again.”
     
    “Please let me know if you do.” She held her
hand out to Trey, and he shook it, two sharp shakes. “It was very
nice to meet you, Mr. Trey.” She looked over to the still-gaping
family. “And all of you, as well. Please have a lovely day.
Goodbye.” She walked away, not limping at all. Carlo couldn’t tear
his eyes away.
     
    As soon as she was safely away, his father
strode to him and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from Trey.
“ Auberon ? This is who you were with last night? Do you know
who that woman’s husband is? What the hell are you doing, boy?
Diddling another man’s wife? That man’s wife? Are you trying
to start a war? I expect this bullshit from Luca or Joey. Not
you.”
     
    “I’m not diddling anybody, Pop. I
walked her home, and then John picked me up. End of story.” He
wrenched his arm free from the vise of his father’s hand.
     
    “I’m not an idiot, boy. And I’m not blind.
Maybe it’s been a while since I made ‘em myself, but I know
googly-eyes when I see ‘em. If you haven’t done anything stupid
yet, good. Don’t. Stay away.”
     
    He turned and stalked off toward the parking
lot. “Home,” he said as he passed his children. Everyone fell in
line to follow. Carlo took Trey’s hand and trailed after. As he
crossed the sidewalk toward the parking lot, he met his Uncle Ben’s
eyes.
     
    Uncle Ben had seen it all, too.
     
     
    ~oOo~
     
     
    Early that afternoon, he and Luca sat on a
log on the beach, their wetsuits folded around their waists and
their boards leaning against the wood-slat fence behind them. A
small, red cooler sat in the sand between them, and they’d each
pulled a beer from it.
     
    Luca was the black sheep, the rebel. He was
also Carlo’s favorite sibling. Even though Carlo was the
responsible one, and Luca was the one always in trouble, they got
each other better than anyone else. Carlo had eventually realized
that they were the most like their father of any of the siblings,
even though they were quite different. It was as if Carlo Sr.’s
personality had been divided in half and each of his eldest sons
got one half. Carlo was the one who put his head down, who almost
always did what was expected, who took care. The provider and
family man that their father was.
     
    Luca was the one who demanded space of his
own, who would not bow to pressure to conform. He had the kind of
strength that their father had shown when he’d stood before his
older brothers and refused to become a part of their organization.
Their father had demanded the right to live a legitimate life, and
his brothers had respected his strength and embraced him for
it.
     
    The line between the family businesses had
grown a little blurry over the years, and was getting even blurrier
if Joey had made the choice it seemed he might have, but their
father’s accomplishment in building a business that was successful
and respected in its own right was not diminished.
     
    Luca shared another thing with their father
that Carlo didn’t share: physicality. Carlo was tall, lean, and
long-limbed, six-foot-three, with broad shoulders and comparatively
narrow hips, Luca was built like a cage fighter—right at six feet
and massively muscled, his biceps huge and his trapezius muscles
arcing