Chapter 10 - The Table of Life
One year later.
The sun was setting over the hills of Long Island, casting a golden glow across the wide back lawn of a beautiful country estate that Dante had purchased far away from the dark noise of the city.
The old penthouse in Midtown had been sold, its marble halls replaced by wide green gardens, fruit orchards, and a massive outdoor brick oven where Mara baked fresh bread every weekend.
A long wooden dining table was set under the shade of an old oak tree, covered in fresh flowers, linen tablecloths, and plates of delicious food.
Sitting around the table were Frank, several retired Moretti security guards who were now managing the estate’s organic farm, and several old friends from Queens.
At the head of the table sat Dante, looking relaxed, happy, and younger than he had in ten years.
Beside him sat Mara, glowing with beauty, wearing a comfortable white sundress, her hair tied up with a silk ribbon.
Sitting on a wooden bench beside Mara was nine-year-old Lena, who was holding a small wooden spoon, carefully feeding tiny dabs of whipped cream to her new baby brother—four-month-old Leo Moretti—who was resting comfortably in a white bassinet beside the table.
“Look, Daddy!” Lena called out happily, pointing at the baby. “Leo likes the cream! He’s gonna be a baker too!”
Dante laughed, reaching over to touch his infant son’s chubby cheek before sliding his hand across the table to interlock his fingers with Mara’s.
Mara looked around the table at the laughter, the sunshine, the delicious food, and the beautiful family they had built together out of grief, courage, and love.
She squeezed Dante’s hand tight.
“What are you thinking about?” Dante asked softly, looking at her with endless devotion.
Mara looked at her daughter’s bright, laughing face, then down at her baby son, and finally into the eyes of the man who loved her completely.
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“I’m thinking,” Mara whispered with a bright, beautiful smile, “that a broken mixer in a mob boss’s kitchen was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Dante leaned over and kissed her tenderly under the golden light of the setting sun, while the sound of his daughter’s laughter floated up into the warm evening sky.
