The Yellow Scarf
Chapter 07 - The Yellow Scarf
Francesca Leone had worked for Irene Moretti for thirteen years. She knew which cupboard held Irene's blood-pressure pills, which flowers she disliked, and which anniversary still made her draw the curtains before noon. That kind of knowledge can resemble love from a distance. It can also give a person an excellent view of where the keys are kept.
Irene had hired Francesca after her husband's death, when relatives began arriving with proposals about how a widow should live. Francesca had been the person who knew when Irene wanted company and when she wanted to drink tea alone. She had driven Irene to the cemetery every November and never asked why they stopped on the way back for a bag of oranges. The possibility that this same woman had helped conceal a stolen infant made Irene feel not merely foolish but bereaved in a way she could not easily describe.
She told Luca, "Don't ask me to defend her because she was kind to me. And don't ask me to pretend those years never happened because she did something terrible. We must be able to look at the whole person and still insist on an answer." Luca had no practice with that kind of thinking. In his father's house people were either loyal or enemies. His mother was offering him a more difficult category.
When Luca questioned her about the photograph, Francesca did not deny being at the cottage. She was fifty-one, neatly dressed, her gray-threaded hair tucked behind one ear. She said she had been delivering a gift on Irene's behalf. The yellow scarf, she added, had belonged to her sister.
"My mother didn't send a gift," Luca said.
Francesca regarded him with a tired expression. "Your mother forgets things now."
It was a cheap shot, and Luca knew it. Irene's memory was sharp enough to recall a debtor's name from thirty years earlier. She had simply stopped spending her energy on pleasant lies. Luca told Francesca not to leave the estate until police could take her statement. She said he had no right to detain her. He agreed, then informed her that security access was suspended and any evidence must be preserved.
At Judith's office Rachel watched a recording of the interview, with Francesca's consent having been obtained by the investigator. Rachel kept seeing the way the woman moved her left hand across her right wrist. The gesture was familiar, though she could not say why.
"She's not the woman who spoke to Daniel," Rachel said at last. "I heard his description. He said she had a smoker's rasp. Francesca sounds like a school principal."
"She could have changed her voice," Luca replied.
"Or we could be wrong. I don't want to be so desperate for an answer that I start making one up."
Luca sat back. It had been a long time since anyone in his life had resisted an accusation simply because the evidence wasn't good enough. Most people who worked for him were quick to tell him what would please him. Rachel's refusal made him feel oddly hopeful.
That afternoon Irene called Francesca herself. She placed the phone on speaker in the drawing room with Luca and an independent attorney present. "Did you help Vanessa with the adoption?" she asked.
Francesca didn't answer for nearly a minute. The silence had the strange intimacy of a confession at church. "I brought papers to the hospital," she said at last. "I didn't take a child."
"Which papers?"
"Authorizations. Visitor lists. I thought I was doing a favor for Celeste."
"You knew the mother hadn't consented?"
Francesca began to cry. "Not at first. They told me the birth mother had changed her name and wanted no contact. Then I saw Mrs. Bennett's name on the hospital discharge sheet. I knew the stories didn't match."
Irene looked at the window. The first snow of the season was beginning to fall, melting against the glass. "And you said nothing."
"Your husband once paid my son's legal bills. I thought I owed the family. Vanessa reminded me every time I hesitated."
"My husband has been dead six years," Irene said. "Whatever debt you believed you owed him ended long before you let another mother bury an empty box."
The call ended with Francesca agreeing to meet investigators and bring copies of documents she'd kept. She explained that she had gone to the cottage three days before Daniel's accident because Beatrice had asked her to arrange a pediatric appointment. She'd found Daniel watching from the road. When he confronted her, she gave him the name Anna West, hoping he would leave before Vanessa noticed him. Later she called him and suggested he contact Luca. She denied knowing that anyone planned to hurt him.
Rachel listened closely. "She admits lying. That doesn't mean she's telling us everything now."
"No," Judith said. "But her records may lead us to the people who forged the forms."
As they gathered their coats, Celeste arrived with Jonathan and a family therapist named Dr. Naomi Webb. Celeste had agreed to provide Alice's samples for a court-admissible parentage test, supervised by professionals. The paperwork named the women separately—Celeste as the current legal parent, Rachel as an alleged biological parent. Seeing the words on the same page made both women flinch.
"She has a favorite book," Celeste said unexpectedly. "The one about the moon and a rabbit. She makes me read the last page twice."
Rachel held the door open. "Does she like music?"
"Old songs. Beatrice sings to her when she won't sleep."
Rachel remembered her mother singing Patsy Cline in the kitchen while drying dishes. She felt the absurd urge to tell Celeste this, as though shared music might allow them to approach the child without hurting her. Instead she said, "Thank you for telling me about her."
Jonathan cleared his throat. "We need to be careful. A test doesn't tell us what Alice should be called or where she should live tomorrow."
"I know," Rachel replied. "But it tells me whether I was allowed to mourn a child who was living. That's where I have to start."
Jonathan looked away. Something in his face reminded her of Daniel the night he lied about the hospital money. Not malice. Fear of a fact already known.
Later that evening, Celeste telephoned Judith. Jonathan had admitted he paid a large additional fee after the adoption was finalized. He had believed it was to expedite international record verification, although no international adoption had taken place. The receipt carried the seal of the Bellini Family Maternity Fund.
May you like
There was also a letter from Vanessa, sealed in the back of his office safe, that he had never shown his wife. Celeste read its first line aloud over the phone and stopped breathing steadily.
It said, If the real mother ever comes forward, remember what you agreed to protect.
