Josephine was right about one thing, Gianna thought as she parked her car neatly at the right side of the road.
Her grandfather would have wanted her at the family dinner tonight—wanted her present, sitting with the rest of the Aldos, celebrating the anniversary of his death in whatever fragile peace the family could hold together.
Even though he had known of her uncle and his family's mistreatment of her—even though he had scolded them, threatened them many times—he had still held out hope that one day they would all reunite.
Gianna had never been that disillusioned.
Even as a child she had been observant, painfully so—quick to notice the discrepancies between her parents' warmth and her uncle's simmering resentment, the competitive spirit passed like a baton to Sabrina, the underlying tension and envy threading every gathering like invisible wire.
