Last Man Standing

“I’m so happy.”

In many ways Grace lived in a child’s fairy tale. She had no idea where Frank had spent his time for the past twenty-four years, and Elena hadn’t known, either. Until a few weeks ago.

“Rub my leg, would you, Lannie? It always feels so good. You have such magic in your hands.”

Elena reached for a tissue from the bedside table and dabbed at Grace’s mouth. One of the strokes had paralyzed her right side, and she rarely knew when she was drooling.

The muscles in her right leg had atrophied, as well. Despite Elena’s concentrated efforts to slow the process down with massage therapy, the leg was shrinking.

She slid the hem up on her mother’s nightgown and began to massage the shriveled limb.

“I’m glad you suggested that Frank learn how to do this for me. He’s getting very good. He says he’s going to take over the job so you can have more free time. Would you like that, Lannie? You could take a vacation with some of your friends.”

“Maybe a short trip,” Elena agreed, knowing she would be taking one very soon. But she wouldn’t be going with friends.

“Guess what, Lannie? Frank says he’s going to take me out in the boat. And guess what else? He says we can go every day if I get stronger.”

“Then you need to eat,” Elena reminded her.

“Guess what else? Frank says…”

Grace fell asleep with Frank’s name on her lips. Twenty minutes later Elena left the room by way of the open door that led onto the sprawling oceanside villa’s veranda. As she headed for the long stairway, Frank’s voice stopped her.

“Elena.”

She turned to find him standing in the shadows.

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

“It’s late.”

“I’ll take one of the dogs with me.” When that didn’t seem to appease him, she added, “I’ll ask Romano to accompany me.”

“You’ve been very distant since I told you about Chicago and…my other life.”

For years Elena had never questioned her father’s extensive traveling or the guards that patrolled their oceanside estate. She had believed that he was what he had claimed to be—a corporate salesman—and that the guards were just a cautionary measure because he was away so much. Days ago he’d revealed that he’d been living a double life, and that his true identity was not Frank Palazzo, but Frank Masado. His occupation: a capo in the Chicago Italian mafia.

Chin raised, Elena asked, “If Mother could remember her life before the accident, would she want to return to Chicago?”

The question brought Frank out of the shadows. He wore a white linen shirt and black pants, and with the black patch covering his right eye, he looked very much like the mobster he claimed to be.

“You said you were born in Chicago. Did my mother grow up there, too? Is that where you met her?”

“Your mother was born in Detroit. She had one brother. He, along with her parents, died in a car accident when she was twenty. But none of that is important now. It happened a long time ago.”

“Mother’s thrilled you’ve retired. Retired from your salesman position, that is. How long do you intend to keep that lie going?”

“There is no reason to tell her differently. I am retired, Elena. I can’t go back to Chicago. I’m dead as far as the organization knows. Dead and buried at Rose-wood Cemetery. For years I wanted to be here with you and your mother, but I didn’t know how to make that happen. Not until my sons came up with a plan to fake my death.”

“Oh, yes, my mystery brothers.”

“I know that was a shock, Elena, learning that I had another family, but my life was not my own for many years. I did what I had to do to keep my family from being destroyed. Both families. My sons, and you and your mother.”

Elena had been stunned when she’d first learned that Frank’s other life included two adult sons, who were also a part of the mafia. On top of that, Frank had told her that there had been a contract put out on him.

“For your mother’s sake, Elena, you must try to understand the situation. Accept it and forget it.”

“I’m trying to understand. I just need more information for that to happen.”

“Staging my death was a genius idea. I owe Joey and Lucky a great debt for finding me a way out. My sons were right. There was only one way out for me. I had to die in order to live.”

Elena studied the man who, for twenty-four years, had allowed her to call him Father and believe it was true. She gazed at his ruggedly handsome face, then the black eye patch, and suddenly another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Rocked by the significance of her revelation, she brought her hand to her throat.

“What is it, Elena? What’s wrong?”

“Your eye… Since I was little you’ve worn that patch. Oh, God! Is that it? Did someone in the organization do that to you? Did they hurt my mother, too?”

For years she had silently questioned her mother’s so-called accident. By the look on Frank’s face, she had been right to be suspicious.

“Mother didn’t have an accident, did she? That’s why you brought her here, isn’t it? The reason for the guards? Why you became two people? You said it’s complicated. Why is that? Is Mother supposed to be dead, too? And me? What kind of complication am I?”

She saw him stiffen, saw that he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his big hands. He shifted his body, which put his face in shadow again. “I’ve told you what you need to know. What’s important for you to know, Elena. The rest will only make you—”

“What? Afraid? Ask more questions? Questions like, who am I?”

He turned quickly. “You are Elena Donata Palazzo. My daughter. A beautiful young woman with a bright future ahead of her.”

Elena played along. “And in this bright future will I have children?”

“Of course, if you wish.”

“So if I have children, are you suggesting that I lie to them as you are lying to me right now?”

She watched his jaw clench.

“In other words, Frank,” she went on, “who should I name when I tell my children who their grandfather is? You, the only father I have ever known? Or my real father, the man whose blood runs through my veins?”

His mouth moved, but no words came out. As if he was paralyzed both in mind and body, he just stood there looking angry and formidable.

Only, Elena wasn’t afraid. Frank might look capable of snapping her neck, but he had never shown an ounce of violence toward her. He hadn’t even swatted her butt as a child when she’d deserved it.

“I know you’re not my father,” she said softly. “So don’t try to placate me with another lie. I know my blood is not your blood. Unfortunately the records at the hospital don’t list whose blood it is.”

“Elena—”

“No.” She held up her hand. “No more games.”