Chapter 1 - The Chair Nobody Wanted Her to Have
"""**THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME KNEEL BESIDE HIS 78-YEAR-OLD MOTHER AT HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER, TRYING TO SLIDE A CHAIR BENEATH HER TREMBLING LEGS—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE REFUSED TO SIT WITH THE FAMILY,” BEFORE LUCA EVEN ASKED WHY HIS MOTHER HAD BEEN STANDING THROUGH THE ENTIRE TOAST.**
“Mom?”
Luca Moretti stopped speaking.
Twenty-eight guests had just raised their champagne glasses beneath the chandeliers of his Chicago mansion.
Everyone was seated.
Everyone except his mother.
Seventy-eight-year-old Teresa Moretti stood near the end of the dining table, one hand gripping the back of a gold chair.
Her navy-blue evening dress brushed the marble floor.
Her knees were shaking.
And I was kneeling beside her, trying to pull an empty chair closer.
“Emily, leave that chair alone.”
Vanessa Bellini's voice cut across the room.
I froze.
“Mrs. Moretti needs to sit down, ma'am.”
Vanessa gave an embarrassed laugh.
“Oh, darling, your mother refused to sit with the family. She said she'd be more comfortable watching from the side.”
Luca slowly lowered his champagne glass.
“My mother said that?”
“Yes. I tried to convince her otherwise.”
He looked at Teresa.
Then at the empty place beside his own chair.
“Mom, why aren't you sitting next to me?”
Teresa's lips trembled.
Before she could answer, Vanessa added, “She's been getting confused about the seating arrangements all afternoon.”
Luca turned toward his fiancée.
“Confused?”
“Yes. She keeps forgetting where she's supposed to sit.”
He set down his glass.
Then asked a question that made Vanessa stop smiling.
“Then why is my mother's chair in the service hallway?”
My name is Emily Carter.
I was twenty-six, worked as a housemaid at the Moretti estate, and had spent the past hour trying to keep Teresa Moretti from crying.
She wasn't a demanding woman.
She said please when asking for water.
Thanked the gardeners for trimming her roses.
And insisted on learning every new employee's name.
When I started working at the mansion, she'd noticed the worn soles of my black work shoes.
The next morning, a new pair appeared beside my locker.
There was no note.
But when I thanked her, she smiled.
“Every woman deserves comfortable shoes when she's on her feet all day.”
That was Teresa.
She noticed things other people overlooked.
And although Luca Moretti was one of the most powerful men in Chicago, his mother still worried whether he'd eaten enough vegetables.
Every Sunday, she waited for him at breakfast.
Same table.
Same two chairs.
She'd pour his coffee before he sat down.
And he'd kiss her cheek before reaching for the newspaper.
It was their little tradition.
One she'd started when Luca was a boy.
That afternoon, Teresa had been especially excited.
Her only son was getting engaged.
At three thirty, I helped her into a navy-blue evening dress.
She wore pearl earrings and a small silver brooch shaped like a butterfly.
The brooch had belonged to her mother.
“Do I look all right, Emily?”
I smiled.
“You look wonderful, Mrs. Moretti.”
She studied herself in the mirror.
“I haven't been to a party this fancy in years.”
Then she laughed.
“Antonio would've told me I looked beautiful even if I'd worn my gardening clothes.”
Antonio was her late husband.
They'd been married forty-six years.
He'd died seven years earlier.
Teresa still spoke about him as though he'd just gone to the hardware store and would be home before supper.
She smoothed her dress.
“Luca asked me to sit beside him tonight.”
I smiled.
“Of course he did.”
Her eyes brightened.
“He said he wanted me close when he made his toast.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I hope I don't cry.”
I laughed softly.
“I think you're allowed.”
But when Vanessa entered the bedroom, everything changed.
She wore a fitted red silk gown and diamond earrings.
Her blonde hair was swept back.
“Teresa, you're not ready yet?”
The older woman looked surprised.
“I am, dear.”
Vanessa glanced at her brooch.
“Are you wearing that?”
Teresa touched it.
“It was my mother's.”
Vanessa sighed.
“It's a little old-fashioned.”
Teresa's cheeks turned pink.
“Oh.”
She reached to remove it.
But I gently stopped her.
“I think it looks lovely, Mrs. Moretti.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“I wasn't asking for your opinion.”
I lowered my eyes.
“Sorry, ma'am.”
Then Vanessa turned toward Teresa.
“There's been a small change in the dinner arrangements.”
Teresa looked up.
“What change?”
“We've had more guests confirm than expected.”
“Oh.”
“So we're adjusting the seating.”
Teresa smiled.
“That's understandable.”
Vanessa continued.
“And since you sometimes have difficulty getting in and out of those formal dining chairs, I thought you'd be more comfortable in the sitting room.”
Teresa went still.
“The sitting room?”
“Yes. We can bring you dinner there.”
She looked confused.
“But Luca asked me to sit beside him.”
Vanessa's smile tightened.
“Teresa, your son has important people coming tonight.”
“I know.”
“And I'm sure he doesn't want you struggling in front of everyone.”
The older woman's face changed.
“I wouldn't struggle.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Last Sunday, you needed help standing after breakfast.”
Teresa looked embarrassed.
“My knee was stiff.”
“Exactly.”
I stepped forward.
“Mrs. Moretti has been resting all afternoon. I'm sure she'll be comfortable at the table.”
Vanessa turned sharply.
“Emily, would you please go check the dining room?”
I hesitated.
“Ma'am—”
“Now.”
I looked at Teresa.
She gave me a small smile.
“Go on, sweetheart.”
I left.
But something about the conversation bothered me.
At four thirty, I went downstairs.
The dining room was beautiful.
White linen.
Crystal glasses.
Tall candles.
Gold chairs arranged around the enormous table.
And beside Luca's place at the head sat an empty chair.
The one he'd personally requested for his mother.
I smiled.
Perhaps Vanessa had changed her mind.
But twenty minutes later, two catering workers carried that chair toward the service hallway.
“Excuse me,” I called.
They stopped.
“Where are you taking that?”
One shrugged.
“Miss Bellini told us to remove it.”
My stomach tightened.
“That's Mrs. Moretti's chair.”
The worker looked uncomfortable.
“Sorry, miss. We were told there'd been a change.”
I hurried toward Vanessa.
She was standing beside the floral arrangements, speaking with the event coordinator.
“Miss Bellini?”
She glanced at me.
“What?”
“Why was Mrs. Moretti's chair removed?”
Vanessa sighed.
“Because we need the space.”
“But Mr. Moretti asked for his mother to sit beside him.”
She stepped closer.
“Emily, are you suggesting I don't know what my own fiancé wants?”
“No, ma'am.”
“Then stop interfering.”
I swallowed.
“Mrs. Moretti will be upset.”
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Mrs. Moretti needs to understand that this evening isn't about her.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“And if you keep questioning my decisions, you'll be looking for another job.”
My stomach tightened.
I needed that job.
My younger sister was studying to become a nurse.
I'd been helping pay her tuition since our father died.
Losing my paycheck wasn't an option.
So I lowered my eyes.
“Yes, ma'am.”
But I couldn't forget Teresa's excitement.
How she'd smiled while fastening her earrings.
How she'd told me Luca wanted her beside him.
And how carefully she'd chosen the little butterfly brooch.
At six thirty, I went upstairs.
Teresa was sitting alone in her bedroom.
Still wearing her evening dress.
Her hands rested in her lap.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
She looked up.
“Oh, Emily.”
“Are you ready for dinner?”
She hesitated.
“I don't think I'm supposed to go down yet.”
I frowned.
“Why not?”
She looked embarrassed.
“Vanessa said Luca wanted me to stay upstairs until the guests were seated.”
My heart sank.
“Did Mr. Moretti tell you that himself?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Then she gave a small, sad smile.
“I suppose he doesn't want me tiring myself out.”
I knelt beside her.
“Mrs. Moretti, you have every right to sit with your son.”
Her eyes filled.
“I don't want to make things difficult for him.”
I took her hand.
“You won't.”
She stared at me for a moment.
Then whispered, “Would you help me downstairs?”
“Of course.”
We reached the dining room just as the first course was being served.
Vanessa spotted us immediately.
Her smile disappeared.
“Emily.”
I stopped.
“Why is Teresa here?”
The older woman looked startled.
“I thought I might join everyone, dear.”
Vanessa glanced toward the guests.
Then forced a smile.
“Of course.”
Teresa relaxed.
But Vanessa wasn't finished.
“You can stand near the end of the table until we finish the toast.”
Teresa looked confused.
“Stand?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
I glanced toward the empty space beside Luca.
“Miss Bellini, I can bring Mrs. Moretti's chair back.”
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“That won't be necessary.”
“But she can't stand very long.”
“Then she'll have to manage.”
I looked at Teresa.
She was gripping her little silver purse.
Trying not to appear embarrassed.
And I made a decision.
I wasn't going to leave her standing there.
I went into the service hallway.
Found the gold chair.
And began dragging it toward the dining room.
It was heavier than it looked.
The carved wooden legs scraped against the floor.
I nearly dropped it twice.
But I kept going.
When I returned, Luca had begun his engagement toast.
The guests were listening.
Vanessa was standing beside him in her red gown.
And Teresa was still near the end of the table.
Her knees were shaking.
I hurried toward her.
“Mrs. Moretti, please sit.”
I pulled the chair closer.
She reached for the backrest.
Then Vanessa's voice cut across the room.
“Emily, leave that chair alone.”
Twenty-eight guests turned.
I froze.
Teresa immediately whispered, “It's all right, sweetheart.”
But it wasn't.
She was trembling.
And Luca Moretti had just stopped his toast.
Now, standing beside his mother, he looked at the chair I'd dragged into the dining room.
Then at Vanessa.
“You said my mother refused to sit with us?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Yes, darling.”
He looked toward Teresa.
“Mom, did you ask to sit somewhere else?”
Her lips trembled.
“I didn't want to be in the way.”
Luca frowned.
“In the way?”
She looked toward Vanessa.
Then down at her hands.
“I know you have important guests, sweetheart.”
He stared at her.
“Mom, you're my mother.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
He gently took her hand.
“Then why would I want you standing in a corner?”
She couldn't answer.
Vanessa gave an uncomfortable laugh.
“Luca, you're making this more complicated than it needs to be.”
He turned toward her.
“Who removed my mother's chair?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“The staff.”
“Who instructed them?”
She looked annoyed.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I thought she'd be more comfortable upstairs.”
Luca glanced toward his mother.
“Did she ask to eat upstairs?”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“She agreed it would be easier.”
He looked at Teresa.
“Mom, did you agree?”
Her chin trembled.
“Vanessa said you wanted me to.”
The room went silent.
Luca slowly turned toward his fiancée.
“You told my mother I didn't want her at my table?”
Vanessa's cheeks flushed.
“That's not what I said.”
He didn't raise his voice.
“Then what did you say?”
She looked toward the guests.
“Luca, can we discuss this privately?”
“No.”
He pulled the gold chair beside his own.
Then gently helped Teresa sit.
“Mom, this is your place.”
She looked up at him.
“Are you sure?”
His expression changed.
“Of course I'm sure.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
He kissed her forehead.
Then turned toward me.
“Emily.”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes, sir?”
“Did you bring this chair back?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
“Were you told not to?”
I looked at Vanessa.
Her expression was cold.
Luca noticed.
“Emily, look at me.”
I raised my eyes.
“Are you afraid of losing your job?”
My throat closed.
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded once.
“You won't.”
Vanessa sighed.
“For heaven's sake, Luca. She's a housemaid. I gave her an instruction, and she deliberately ignored it.”
Luca looked at her.
“Because my mother needed a chair?”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Because she needs to understand boundaries.”
He stared at her.
Then asked quietly, “What boundaries?”
She looked away.
Luca continued.
“My mother has lived in this family longer than either of us.”
Nobody moved.
“And Emily has shown her more consideration tonight than the woman I'm supposed to marry.”
Vanessa's face flushed.
“That's unfair.”
Luca glanced toward Teresa.
She was sitting quietly, wiping her cheeks.
Then he turned back.
“What's unfair is making my mother feel unwelcome in her own home.”
For several seconds, Vanessa said nothing.
Then she gave a sharp laugh.
“You're acting as though I threw her out of the house.”
Luca became very still.
“No.”
His voice was calm.
“You only made her believe I didn't want her beside me.”
The words hung over the table.
Teresa reached for his hand.
“Luca, sweetheart, please don't argue.”
He turned immediately.
“Mom?”
She swallowed.
“Vanessa was only trying to make things easier for you.”
He looked at her.
“Did she tell you that?”
Teresa nodded.
“She said you've been under so much pressure lately.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“And what else did she say?”
The older woman hesitated.
Then whispered, “She said you'd be happier if I stopped expecting to be included in everything.”
Luca closed his eyes.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then he gently squeezed her hand.
“Mom, there's nowhere I'd rather have you than beside me.”
Teresa began crying again.
But this time, she smiled.
I turned away before anyone noticed my own tears.
Vanessa put down her champagne glass.
“Luca, can we please finish the toast?”
He looked at her.
Then at the guests.
And slowly set his glass down.
“No.”
Her smile disappeared.
“I think we've heard enough speeches tonight.”
He turned toward Daniel, his head of security.
“Please ask the guests to enjoy dessert in the lounge.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
The guests began standing.
Vanessa looked furious.
“Luca, you're embarrassing me.”
He studied her.
“Then perhaps you understand how my mother felt.”
She stopped speaking.
Luca turned toward me.
“Emily, would you bring my mother some tea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And please sit down for a few minutes. You've been on your feet all day.”
My eyes filled.
“Thank you, sir.”
I went toward the kitchen.
But before I reached the doorway, Teresa called my name.
“Emily?”
I turned.
“Yes, ma'am?”
She held out her hand.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
I approached.
She took my fingers.
Then smiled through her tears.
“Thank you for bringing me my chair.”
My throat tightened.
“Of course, Mrs. Moretti.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Her voice softened.
“You don't understand.”
She looked toward Luca.
“Antonio used to pull out my chair every evening. Even after forty-six years of marriage.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“When he died, Luca started doing it.”
Luca looked at his mother.
She smiled sadly.
“I know it sounds silly.”
He shook his head.
“It doesn't.”
Teresa looked back at me.
“When Vanessa told me there wasn't room for my chair anymore, I thought perhaps my little tradition had finally become a burden.”
My eyes filled.
Luca's expression hardened.
He gently took his mother's hand.
“Mom, you will never be a burden to me.”
She nodded.
Then whispered, “I know, sweetheart.”
But something about the way she said it made me uneasy.
Because she wasn't looking at Luca.
She was looking toward Vanessa.
And her fingers had begun trembling again.
Later, while the guests were having dessert, I helped Teresa into the small sitting room.
She seemed exhausted.
I brought her tea.
Then settled beside her while she rested.
For several minutes, we sat quietly.
Finally, she reached for my wrist.
“Emily?”
“Yes, ma'am?”
“May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She looked toward the doorway.
Then lowered her voice.
“Did Luca really want me at the table tonight?”
My heart sank.
“Mrs. Moretti, he just told you he did.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
Then she looked down at her hands.
“But Vanessa said he'd only say that in front of the guests because he didn't want anyone thinking he was a bad son.”
I couldn't speak.
Teresa continued.
“She said he's been trying to find a gentle way to tell me I'm not needed anymore.”
My eyes filled.
“Mrs. Moretti, that's not true.”
She gave a small smile.
“I hope not.”
Then she reached into her silver purse.
And removed something I'd never seen before.
A small gold pin shaped like an open hand.
It was engraved with three words.
MORETTI FAMILY FOUNDATION.
I recognized the name.
The foundation had been started by Teresa and Antonio nearly thirty years earlier.
It helped older people who couldn't afford groceries, heating bills, and basic home repairs.
Teresa had spent decades organizing its charity dinners.
Even after her husband died, she attended every monthly meeting.
“What is this?” I asked.
She stared at the pin.
“Antonio gave it to me when we opened the foundation.”
Her eyes filled.
“He said nobody should have to choose between keeping their house warm and buying food.”
I smiled.
“That sounds like him.”
Teresa nodded.
Then her expression changed.
“Vanessa asked me to give it back yesterday.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“She said Luca thought it was time for someone younger to take over.”
My stomach tightened.
“Take over what?”
Teresa looked at me.
“The foundation.”
I stared at her.
“Mrs. Moretti, you're still the chairwoman.”
She nodded uncertainly.
“I thought so.”
Then she whispered, “But Vanessa said there would be an announcement tonight.”
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
“What announcement?”
She looked frightened.
“That I was stepping down.”
I couldn't speak.
Because Luca hadn't mentioned anything about his mother retiring.
And I'd personally helped Mrs. Carter prepare the foundation's annual luncheon only two weeks earlier.
Teresa continued.
“Vanessa said the board had already agreed.”
My stomach dropped.
“Agreed to what?”
She stared at the little gold pin.
“That she would become the new chairwoman after the wedding.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Teresa looked toward the doorway.
“Emily, I don't understand something.”
I swallowed.
“What is it?”
She lowered her voice.
“If Luca wanted me to retire, why didn't he just tell me himself?”
I reached for her hand.
“Mrs. Moretti, I think you need to speak to your son.”
She nodded.
“I suppose I do.”
But when I stood to find Luca, she caught my sleeve.
“Wait.”
I turned.
Teresa's face had gone pale.
“There's something else.”
I sat down again.
“What?”
She looked toward her purse.
Then whispered, “Last Thursday, I went to the foundation's office.”
I waited.
“She'd told me I wasn't needed at the meetings anymore.”
Teresa swallowed.
“But I went anyway.”
My heart started pounding.
“And?”
Her fingers tightened around the gold pin.
“I heard Vanessa speaking to someone on the telephone.”
I leaned closer.
“What was she saying?”
Teresa looked at me.
“She said the donations would be moved into a new account after the wedding.”
I went still.
Then she whispered the words that made my blood run cold.
“Emily, she said it didn't matter whether Luca agreed.”
I stared at her.
“Why not?”
Teresa's eyes filled.
“Because she said she'd already found a way to make it look as though he had.”
Just then, the sitting room door opened.
Luca Moretti stood in the doorway.
“Mom?”
Teresa quickly closed her fingers around the little gold pin.
He looked at her face.
Then at mine.
“What's wrong?”
Neither of us answered.
And for the first time since I'd worked at the mansion, I saw Teresa Moretti look genuinely afraid of telling her own son the truth.
Because Vanessa hadn't simply wanted to take her chair at dinner.
May you like
She wanted to take the one thing Teresa and Antonio had spent thirty years building together.
And whatever she'd arranged at the foundation was supposed to become official the morning after the wedding."
