Chapter 5 - The Sister at the DoorSofia Moretti arrived on a Sunday.
Charlotte was not there.
That mattered later.
Damon opened his apartment door at 7:14 in the morning and found his younger sister standing in the hallway with a nineteen-year-old girl beside her.
He had not seen Sofia in four years.
He had not seen Alessia since she was fourteen.
Sofia looked almost exactly as Damon remembered her except for the silver beginning at her temples.
Alessia looked nothing like the child he remembered.
She was tall, dark-haired and furious.
“Are you going to make us stand here?” Sofia asked.
Damon stepped aside.
“No.”
They entered.
His apartment had changed since Charlotte first visited it.
Several expensive pieces of furniture had disappeared during asset sales. The security monitors were gone. So were the two men who once worked from the room near the elevator.
Sofia noticed everything.
“You live alone?”
“Yes.”
“No staff?”
“A cleaner comes Thursdays.”
Alessia stared at him.
“You clean nothing yourself?”
Damon looked at her.
“I own a vacuum.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Sofia closed her eyes.
“Alessia.”
“What?”
Damon almost smiled.
“She sounds like you.”
“That is not a compliment.”
“It was.”
Sofia did not return the smile.
She sat.
Alessia remained standing.
Damon waited.
Years ago, waiting would have been impossible for him.
Silence in his family had been something the strongest person filled.
Now he let his sister choose when to speak.
Sofia finally said, “Alessia has been accepted to the architecture program at the Illinois Institute of Technology.”
Damon blinked.
Alessia folded her arms.
“Don’t look shocked.”
“I’m not.”
“You looked shocked.”
“I was surprised.”
“Why?”
“Last time I saw you, you wanted to become a marine biologist.”
“I was fourteen.”
“Whales seemed important.”
“They still are.”
Sofia interrupted.
“She needs an internship.”
Damon’s expression changed.
“No.”
Alessia laughed bitterly.
“That was fast.”
Sofia stared at him.
“You haven’t even heard what I’m asking.”
“If you’re asking me to call Charlotte, no.”
The room became still.
Alessia’s eyes narrowed.
“Charlotte Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“You know her?”
Sofia looked at her daughter.
“Apparently your uncle knows several women now.”
Damon ignored that.
“I will not ask Charlotte to hire Alessia.”
Sofia’s jaw tightened.
“You owe me.”
“Yes.”
The immediate agreement disrupted her anger.
Damon continued.
“I owe you apologies. I owe you money I controlled when I had no right to control it. I owe you answers about our father. I may owe you many things I haven’t understood yet.”
He looked at Alessia.
“I do not have the right to convert any of those debts into Charlotte’s obligation.”
Sofia stared at him.
For a moment, she looked almost disappointed.
She had come prepared to fight the brother she remembered.
He was making her use new weapons.
“What if Alessia deserves the position?” she asked.
“Then she should apply.”
“She already did.”
Damon looked at Alessia.
“And?”
“They rejected me.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t reject me,” Alessia admitted. “I was wait-listed.”
Sofia glared at her.
“You said rejected.”
“Wait-listed is rejection with office stationery.”
Damon sat across from her.
“Then wait.”
“That’s your advice?”
“Yes.”
“You ran half the city and that’s your advice?”
“I ran less of it than newspapers suggested.”
“Still.”
Damon shrugged.
“Waiting has become educational.”
Alessia stared at him another second.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
Sofia did not.
She had not come only about the internship.
Damon knew it.
An hour later, Alessia left to meet a friend.
Sofia waited until the door closed.
“You told prosecutors about Papa.”
“Yes.”
“You gave them everything.”
“Yes.”
“You knew that would reopen the investigation into the Calumet property.”
“Yes.”
“That property was supposed to be mine.”
Damon looked at her.
“It still may be.”
“May be?”
“The title was contaminated.”
“You signed it over to me.”
“I signed over an asset our father purchased through illegal proceeds.”
Sofia stood.
“I didn’t know that.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
“Because four months ago, the government froze it.”
Damon lowered his gaze.
Sofia continued.
“You know what I was going to do with that building?”
“No.”
“Of course you don’t.”
He looked up.
“I should.”
“You should have asked.”
“Yes.”
Again.
That infuriating agreement.
Sofia walked toward the window.
“I was going to sell it and move Alessia’s grandmother closer to us. She can’t manage the stairs in her house anymore.”
“I can help with—”
“Don’t.”
Damon stopped.
Sofia turned.
“There. That.”
“What?”
“That thing you do. Money appears before the sentence finishes.”
He said nothing.
“You did it when my marriage ended. You did it when Alessia was born. You did it when Mama got sick. Every time I had a problem, you solved the bill and then behaved as if the emotion attached to it had been handled too.”
Damon’s chest tightened.
“I thought I was helping.”
“I know.”
The words sounded painfully familiar.
Charlotte had once said almost the same thing.
Powerful men sometimes call interference help.
Sofia laughed without humor.
“You think because you never hit anyone in front of me, I didn’t know who you were?”
Damon remained still.
“You think I didn’t understand why waiters suddenly apologized? Why landlords changed their minds? Why men who insulted me stopped appearing at family parties?”
“I tried to keep you away from it.”
“You kept me ignorant enough that I couldn’t choose how far away I wanted to be.”
Damon closed his eyes.
There it was.
Again.
Different woman.
Different relationship.
Same authority.
Sofia saw the recognition on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. What?”
Damon sat down.
“Charlotte said something similar.”
Sofia’s expression changed.
Not softened.
Focused.
“What did she say?”
“That I decided which truths she was entitled to know.”
“And was she right?”
“Yes.”
Sofia stared at him.
“You’re in love with her.”
Damon did not answer.
He did not need to.
His sister sat slowly.
“That must be inconvenient.”
“Yes.”
“Does she love you?”
“I don’t know.”
Sofia looked almost pleased.
“Good.”
Damon glanced at her.
She shrugged.
“You spent forty years knowing the answer to everything. Uncertainty might improve you.”
“It’s been suggested.”
“By Charlotte?”
“By life.”
“Life sounds like Charlotte.”
For the first time that morning, Sofia smiled.
Charlotte learned about the visit Tuesday.
Damon told her before they ordered.
“My sister came Sunday.”
Charlotte looked at him.
“You have a sister?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
Her eyebrows rose.
Damon stopped.
“No. That was technically true and relationally stupid.”
Charlotte laughed.
“Excellent correction.”
He told her about Sofia.
Not every private detail.
He paused when necessary.
“That part is hers to tell,” he said twice.
Charlotte noticed.
“So Alessia applied to my studio?”
“She says she was wait-listed.”
Charlotte immediately understood.
“Alessia Moretti.”
“Yes.”
“She’s good.”
Damon’s expression remained neutral.
“You’ve seen her work?”
“I review every internship finalist.”
“You personally?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Then I won’t ask anything else.”
Charlotte studied him.
“You really weren’t going to ask me to take her?”
“No.”
“What if I do?”
“That is your decision.”
Charlotte leaned closer.
“I’m asking what you think.”
Damon considered.
“I think she is nineteen, angry with me and probably tired of adults making decisions around her.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“Yes.”
“I also think,” he continued, “that if she earns a place at your studio, being there may be good for her.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then it may be good for her to discover a Moretti last name can fail to open a door.”
Charlotte smiled.
Two weeks later, an intern withdrew after accepting a university research position.
Charlotte called Alessia.
Not Damon.
Alessia arrived for a second interview wearing a black blazer and carrying a portfolio that had already been reviewed anonymously.
Charlotte laid three drawings on the table.
“These are technically excellent.”
Alessia tried not to react.
“These,” Charlotte continued, touching two others, “are interesting.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It’s better.”
“Oh.”
“Technical skill can be taught. Interesting is harder.”
Alessia looked at the drawings.
Charlotte pointed to a redesign of an abandoned neighborhood library.
“You preserved the damaged brick.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone wanted to cover it.”
“That isn’t an architectural reason.”
Alessia hesitated.
“My grandmother used to take me there.”
Charlotte waited.
“There was a fire when I was eleven,” Alessia continued. “Nobody died. But one wall stayed black afterward. The city painted over it. I hated that.”
“Why?”
“Because it made the building look like nothing had happened.”
Charlotte looked at her.
Grand Meridian was never empty.
It was waiting for people willing to see what was still there.
“You start Monday,” Charlotte said.
Alessia blinked.
“What?”
“Eight thirty. You’ll work under Madison, not me.”
“Why not you?”
“Because your uncle and I are seeing each other.”
Alessia’s eyes widened.
Charlotte continued.
“Your work earned the position. But conflict rules still exist.”
“You’re telling me directly?”
“Yes.”
“Does Uncle Damon know?”
“No.”
“Can I tell him?”
“Yes.”
Alessia grinned.
“Can I make him think I got rejected first?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to build an office that doesn’t use dishonesty as entertainment.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
Damon learned Monday at noon when Alessia sent him a photograph of her temporary desk.
He called Charlotte.
She answered.
“You hired her.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t your application.”
A pause.
Then he said, “Fair.”
“Are you angry?”
“No.”
“Proud?”
“Yes.”
“Of her?”
“Mostly.”
Charlotte smiled.
“Mostly?”
“Perhaps slightly of myself for not interfering.”
“That ruins it.”
“I know.”
That evening, Sofia appeared at the studio.
Charlotte was still working.
Alessia had left twenty minutes earlier.
Sofia introduced herself.
“I wanted to thank you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. That’s why it counts.”
Charlotte gestured toward a chair.
Sofia remained standing.
“My brother told me you’re responsible for his new personality.”
Charlotte nearly choked on her coffee.
“I absolutely am not.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Sofia’s expression softened.
“Damon has spent most of his life believing protection and control were the same word.”
Charlotte looked at her.
“I know.”
“He got it from our father.”
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“No.”
Charlotte appreciated her immediately.
Sofia glanced around the studio.
“I used to think the only way Damon would ever change was if someone took everything from him.”
“And?”
“I was wrong.”
“What changed him?”
Sofia looked toward Alessia’s empty desk.
“He finally gave things up voluntarily.”
Charlotte thought of the ledger.
Management control.
The companies.
Certainty.
Then Sofia added, “Don’t confuse that with me telling you to forgive him.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
Sofia walked toward the door.
Charlotte stopped her.
“Sofia?”
She turned.
“Would you like coffee sometime?”
Sofia’s smile was slow.
“With or without Damon?”
“Without.”
“Definitely.”
Damon learned about that coffee three weeks later.
He stared at Charlotte across their Tuesday table.
“You and Sofia have been meeting?”
“Twice.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Charlotte sipped her coffee.
“It wasn’t your application.”
Damon looked at her.
She smiled.
And for the first time since they had begun again, Damon laughed loudly enough that three people in the café turned to look.
Charlotte laughed too.
It felt ordinary.
May you like
It felt dangerous.
It felt good.
Related Stories
