Page 39 of The Man with a Treasure

With the suits came pay. I stared at the stack of Euro in my palm thinking this was a plus. Up to this point, Sal’s and my only pay had been a roof over our head, a smile from Mrs. Rossi, and warm food in our bellies. That had been plenty. We rarely went into town. We had no need for money. But now that we had some? It was a bit liberating.

The first person I shared it with was my aunt and uncle. Sitting at the little wooden dining table, stuffing Euro into an envelope, Mrs. Rossi giggled, handing me a piece of white paper. “Maybe a little note to go with the money?”

Thinking she was brilliant, I quickly wrote a message:

It would mean so much if you and Uncle would allow me to share my pay with you.

Please accept. I would love to show you my gratitude for all you have done for me.

Your nephew,

Angelo

Standing next to me, Mrs. Rossi kept smiling as she took the note and wrapped it around the Euro, then slipped it into an envelope. “You look so proud of yourself.”

“They work hard but make little money. It would be an honor to assist them.”

She kissed the top of my head. “This will be sent tomorrow, my sweet Angel.”

The first thing Sal and I bought? We took Mrs. Rossi to dinner, where she was not cooking, cleaning, or waiting on ungrateful Giordanos.

That night, at the restaurant, was the first time I realized Sal and I were a sight that women appreciated. In our suits, we escorted Mrs. Rossi into a fine dining experience. Sal’s head tilted when every woman, accompanying a man or not, took a gander at us.

Mrs. Rossi made no comment about it and loved her dinner date with her boys. We spared no expense and ordered her so much food she had to have her dessert put in a container to go. In the backseat, it sat in her lap, and all the way home, she praised the chef for such superb plates. We were all still smiling while driving down the long driveway next to the grapevines.

But no happiness existing near the Giordanos lasts long.

Headlights from Mrs. Rossi’s car lit the front yard, showing live-in farmhands rushing around, unfolding a huge tarp on the ground. My smile faded. “What are they doing?” Isabella’s brothers were yelling, arms waving through the air. Mr. Giordano was facing his home, his cane on the ground, both hands up in the air. I couldn’t see what he was gesturing to, due to a tree blocking the view.

One of the night shift Suits ran toward the car as I parked. He opened the driver’s side door. “Angelo, we have a situation.” I got out in a hurry, already putting the puzzle pieces together. I ran toward the house. Isabella.

Sal ran around the hood of the car. “What is it?”

Before I could see her, I heard a shriek of terror.

Mr. Giordano slammed his hands to his face. “My beautiful one, please wake up!”

Running past him, I didn’t even pause to ask questions, nor did I give answers to the brothers all yelling questions, wanting to know why I was getting involved. Everyone else knew the routine and had witnessed or heard of my abnormal connections with the female Giordano of the house. Therefore, they didn’t bother me and went about any business to help get a positive ending out of the night.

Farmhands were frantically picking up ends of the tarp while peering up, fear etched on every face. I didn’t offer to help. I just ran to the tree trunk and started climbing. When I could spare a split second, I scanned for Isabella’s balcony, where I needed to be.

It was dark, but not so much that I couldn’t see her at the handrails, arms flailing as if trying to protect herself. The whole time, she cried, “No! No! Please, don’t hurt me! My father will pay you. Please, stop. He will pay any amount...”

Speaking of her father having money as if it would make a difference, I knew we were witnessing the beginning of her abduction. The slave in Isabella quickly learned her ordeal was not about a ransom. It was about revenge. All taken out on her.

Mr. Giordano was pitifully mewing below, hating hearing her plea for him while experiencing some sort of nightmare she appeared to be trapped in.

Thud! Thud! kept coming from somewhere on the second floor. Common sense told me men were trying to bust through her bedroom door she must have blocked.

“Isabella,” I gently called out, still climbing the tree. “It’s me. Angelo.”

When my foot slipped due to a small branch breaking, I caught myself but looked down to see where I could put my foot next. It should have been no surprise to see that Sal was following me up the tree. My heart warm, I told him, “No. Please, get to her room in case I need you.”

No questions asked, Sal dropped from the tree and ran in the direction of the front door.

Once to a sturdy branch, I tried again, “Isabella,” a little louder this time. Crawling closer, I knew I couldn’t reach her due to the tree being too far away, but hoped she could see and hear me better.

My chances were slim. Her eyes were closed as tears flowed like a waterfall.