Chapter 14 - THE NEW BOSTON
Six months later.
The spring sun warmed the stone steps of the newly renovated Lombardi Maritime Center on Pier 4.
Where rusted shipping containers once hid contraband, a modern logistics terminal hummed with activity.
Legitimate commerce.
High-tech surveillance.
Fair wages for thousands of longshoremen.
Dante stood on the observation balcony overlooking the sparkling harbor.
He wore an open-collar linen shirt and a light sports coat.
The hard edges of his face had softened, though the commanding presence remained.
Enzo walked out onto the balcony, holding a clipboard.
“The first cargo ship from Genoa just cleared customs,” Enzo reported with a broad grin.
“Zero violations. Clean manifests.”
“The Port Authority commissioner sent his personal congratulations.”
“Good,” Dante said, taking a sip of espresso.
“How are the southern routes?”
“Quiet,” Enzo said.
“The other families learned their lesson.”
“Nobody moves a crate through New England without clearing it through Mrs. Lombardi’s office first.”
Dante chuckled.
“Don't let her hear you say that.”
“She’ll audit your security budget again.”
“God forbid,” Enzo laughed.
“She cut forty thousand dollars from our vehicle maintenance last month and was completely right about the waste.”
The glass balcony doors opened.
Gemma stepped out into the spring breeze.
She wore a simple floral silk dress that danced around her knees.
Her dark hair was tied back with a silk ribbon.
The diamond and sapphire ring caught the afternoon sun.
Her hand rested gently over the slight, unmistakable swell of her stomach.
Enzo’s smile softened with deep respect.
He bowed his head slightly.
“Mrs. Lombardi.”
“Good afternoon, Enzo,” Gemma said warmly.
“Did you review the revised pension plan for the dockworkers?”
“Signed it this morning, ma'am,” Enzo replied dutifully.
“I’ll leave you two alone.”
Enzo slipped back inside, pulling the doors shut.
Dante turned to his wife.
He opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace without hesitation.
His hands rested over hers, cupping her rounded belly.
“How is our future Don doing today?” Dante whispered, kissing her temple.
“Or future managing director,” Gemma countered with a smirk.
“She’s kicking.”
“Definitely a Lombardi,” Dante murmured against her neck.
Gemma leaned back against his chest, looking out over the blue waters of Boston Harbor.
Down at the end of Pier 4, a small bronze plaque gleamed in the sunlight.
A memorial for Leo Lombardi.
A park where families walked their dogs and children ate ice cream.
The blood was gone.
The shadows had retreated.
“Do you ever miss the quiet office?” Gemma asked softly.
Dante shook his head.
“I never had a quiet office until you walked into it, Gemma.”
“And now?”
May you like
He turned her around in his arms so he could look down into the hazel eyes that held his entire universe.
“Now,” Dante said, “I have everything.”
