Many more people had come than had been anticipated. Every person associated with Marco’s Italian Restaurant, closed for the day – from Alexander Harrington the manager down to the lowliest busboy…Linda’s and Marco’s business friends and associates…Gary Edwards, the vice-president of their bank, and his wife. There were a surprising number of people there from Bayport. And in the very back of the chapel, an elderly man with chiseled features and silvery hair sat in a wheelchair, listening to the words of the memorial service with his head bowed and resting on his hand.

Isabella Scarpetti, dressed in a simple dark blue dress, emerged from the building now, flanked on one side by Joe, on the other by Tony Prito, who was holding her hand tightly. Behind them came Frank, escorting Laura with great tenderness; Megan Wright, and Vanessa Bender. They paused on the sidewalk so that Bella could speak to people for a few moments.

Inside the chapel, Fenton Hardy sat down beside Antonio Scarpetti’s wheelchair. He nodded politely to the small, comfortably-plump, white-haired lady accompanying Antonio. This, he knew, was Rosalie, Antonio’s wife and Bella’s grandmother. Her health was somewhat fragile, but since her husband’s heart attack, Rosalie had refused to be coddled, and had proved to be surprisingly resilient.

"Mr. Scarpetti, I wanted to speak to you for a moment before you left." Fenton began. "It’s regarding the ledger that was found in Linda’s safety deposit box…."

The old man glanced at his wife, and his dark eyes twinkled a little. She returned his look with a slightly defiant one of her own.

"Ah, that ledger. Rosalie, that ledger…you see what happens when you interfere with business dealings?" Then he gave the detective a shrewd look. "I know why my wife gave it to Marco. She was being a mother, attempting to ensure his happiness. I can understand that. As long as Marco was alive, I was content to let the ledger remain in his keeping. But after his death, I couldn’t take any chances. I knew nothing about Linda, and I couldn’t be sure she would protect the family the way Marco had. I had to get the ledger back…but her death was not something I wanted."

"You had made sure that Marco was watched, though – years before that." Mr. Hardy said quietly. "Through Alex Harrington."

Antonio’s lips twitched. "Alex was never able to find the ledger, though." he remarked dryly.

"Well, it’s been turned over to the police now." Fenton winced at the sudden look of apprehension in the old man’s dark eyes. Antonio was worried, plain and simple. "Mr. Scarpetti, the District Attorney has told me that although some of the information is still valuable, given the circumstances of your age, and your health…." He paused a moment, then continued. "…given those circumstances, and the fact that you have stated your willingness to testify that Dominic poisoned Linda…he’s not intending to waste taxpayer money with a lengthy trial. Provided, that is, that nothing else arises." There was a definite note of warning in Mr. Hardy’s deep voice.

"I appreciate that, Mr. Hardy." Antonio answered coolly. "And I understand the…implications."

"One more thing…." Fenton went on, the warning note gone now. He spoke very gently indeed. "I want you to know that I had no intention – I didn’t plan for that car pursuit to end the way it did. As much as I wanted to apprehend your son—"

Antonio held up a silencing hand. "I have no son."

* * * * *

"I’m sorry, I really don’t feel very hungry right now. Perhaps a little later." Bella offered a brittle smile. "Vanessa, here, take this, won’t you?" She handed Vanessa a loaded plate and disappeared kitchenward once again to get another for someone else.

Laura gazed after her niece with anxiety. "I know how she feels, and I don’t blame her," she commented to Vanessa and Frank, who happened to be standing near. "But she hasn’t had anything to eat all day. She was perfectly composed at the funeral service, but the only things she’s said since are ‘thank you for coming to the service,’ and ‘no, thank you, I don’t want anything.’ I’m worried about her."

Bella returned from the kitchen, carrying two plates of food, which she proceeded to hand to Fenton and Megan. Laura heard her say quietly to her uncle:

"Excuse me for a bit, please. I’ll be in my room for a while." She walked out of the room, heading for the staircase.

"Oh dear…." Laura fretted. She exchanged a worried look with her husband, who shrugged with a What was I supposed to do? expression on his face.

"Mom, I’ll take her a plate; maybe I can get her to eat." Frank offered. He quickly put a helping of fruit salad, a roll, and a couple of deviled eggs on a plate, grabbed a fork, and followed Bella upstairs.

"Bella? It’s Frank – could I come in for a minute?" The elder Hardy boy tapped lightly on his cousin’s bedroom door, but there was no response. "Bella?" He frowned, and tapped again. Listening intently, he caught the sound of muffled sobs. Very quietly, he eased the door open and entered the room.

Bella was lying face down on her bed, sobbing into a pillow. Sobbing with the heartbroken wails of an abandoned child; a desolate, lonely, bereft child who has suddenly realized that there is nothing and no one left….

"Bella—" Frank set down the plate and swiftly moved to the bed. He sat down and drew her into his arms, cradling her close as she cried. He said nothing; right now his cousin didn’t need the reassuring platitudes that she had been told at the funeral service; right now she just needed someone to be there for her, to be there as she released the jumble of emotions she had been containing for the past few days. He rocked her gently and patted her, stroked the back of her smooth blonde head.

For a long time she cried in his arms, occasionally gasping out a broken phrase or two; words of protest and anger and grief. Frank thought back to what Megan had said, right after they had met Bella. "She’s controlling all that emotion…she’s shoved it down beneath necessities and civilities. But it’s there." How right Megan had been!

After a while he began murmuring gentle reassurances. "Shhh, it’s all right….you aren’t alone….You aren’t alone, Bella…shhh, I’m here….It’s all right."

Finally, after many minutes, when Frank’s shirt front was totally soaked, when her eyes were red and swollen, when the tissues she’d used to blow her nose had created a small mountain on the bed, and her voice was raspy from the amount of tears she’d shed, Bella pulled away.

"I’m sorry," she said thickly. "I shouldn’t have done that…And I shouldn’t shut myself away in here. You are all going home tomorrow…." She gulped, and blew her nose again.

"You could still change your mind and come with us." Frank reminded her.

When presented with the Hardys’ suggestion that she come and live with them in Bayport, Bella had thanked them profusely, but had sadly declined the offer. She had insisted that as much as she appreciated it, and loved them for it, New York City was where home was, and where she needed to be. "Here is where I’m closest to Mom and Daddy. I don’t want to leave that behind. After I’m through school, I want to run the restaurant. Daddy worked hard to make a name for himself. I can’t turn that over to strangers. I can’t even turn it over to Alex, though I’d want him to stay on as manager and help me."

To everyone’s surprise, Tony Prito had also announced that he was remaining in New York. "After all," he had reminded them. "I’d be transferring to NYU next year anyway; there’s no reason I can’t do it a year sooner. And Alex has offered me a job at Marco’s – too good an offer to pass up. What better job could I ask for than to work there? Alex is even willing to let me rent the upstairs apartment – plenty of room for you guys to come and visit me, right?"

Now, in Frank’s arms, Bella sniffled...and then hiccupped. "I know, Frank…but I’ve got to stay here. Daddy and Mom put too much into making Marco’s a success for me to just turn my back on it."

"I’ll bet Alexander wasn’t too happy about that decision, was he? He really wanted to buy you out, Bella."

Bella gave a tiny shrug. "He was disappointed, but he understood. He’s agreed to stay on and help me as long as I need him. And I’m going to take his advice – try some of the ideas he wants to experiment with. He’ll be essentially running Marco’s for quite a while – after all, it isn’t like I know anything about running a restaurant. He really has the best interests of Marco’s at heart. I can’t believe I ever doubted him."

"You’ll come and visit us, though – won’t you?" Frank asked, smiling.

"Of course! And you’ll come and see me, too. I’ll be around so much, you’ll be tired of me in no time!" She managed a shaky laugh. "I know Mom and Daddy were doing what they thought was best when they walked away from both families…but I need both sides now…more than ever."

"And your grandfather has agreed to act as your guardian, but let you stay here?" Frank had heard it all before, but he wanted to repeat it once again, to make sure Bella knew exactly what she was doing.

"It won’t be all that long before I’m 18." his cousin replied. "And I’m a big girl, remember? Besides, Tony will be here to protect me!"

"Not a very big girl," Frank teased gently. "Pretty small girl, actually." He winced as she punched his arm, and laughed. "And you’re okay with – well, with Antonio’s…um…connections?" One of the most powerful and notorious gangland families in New York, that is?

"I’m not proud of what Grandfather has done, and I can’t condone it." she admitted. "But Daddy was raised in it until he married Mom, and he didn’t let it change him. So why should I let it change me? Besides, Grandpa Antonio loves me…and right now, I need all the love I can get."

Frank hugged her tightly. "You’ve got a whole lot of people who love you, Bella. Come back out in the living room and talk to them."

She cast a rueful glance at the pile of wet tissues. "I’ll come in a few minutes. Go on ahead. I need to do a major repair job first."

When Frank re-entered the living room, he was vastly surprised to find that the number of people had grown again…but somehow, it seemed fitting to see Antonio Scarpetti’s wheelchair sitting next to the couch where Rosalie Scarpetti sat holding a cup of coffee in her frail, blue-veined hands. Joe and Tony stood beside the door to the kitchen, eating and talking about baseball, and Frank moved to join them. Next to Rosalie, Vanessa and the ever-tactful Megan were talking to the elderly woman about New York City and how both of them had used to live there. Fenton and Alex Harrington occupied two nearby armchairs.

Laura Hardy stood surveying the scene with tender eyes. Bella slipped by her, her face restored to nearly its usual attractive state by a cold, wet washcloth and judiciously re-applied makeup. She paused and hugged Laura tightly before crossing the room to speak to her grandfather, who was absorbed in conversation with Fenton.

Just look at them! Laura thought. A roomful of Hardys and their friends, and Scarpettis, peacefully coexisting. She looked at the wall where the photographs hung, and fastened her gaze upon the 10-by-14 portrait of a smiling Marco and Linda.

The End