She was pouting. Donatti kept forgetting that she wasn’t much older than Gabe. “Thank you for sending my son a shirt. Let’s aim a little higher this time. Get him a Ferrari.”

“A Ferrari?” Talia exclaimed.

“Yeah, a Ferrari. Do you want me to spell it for you?”

“I know what a Ferrari is. Stop being so sarcastic.” She paused. “Can I say something?”

“No.” When Talia didn’t talk, Donatti exhaled in disgust. “What?”

“We’re going to Paris for New Year’s. Why don’t you ask him to come with us? I bet he’d like that even more than a Ferrari.”

“I don’t want him to come.”

Talia looked perplexed. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want him to come, okay?”

Talia shrugged. “Okay.”

“Look, Talia, Gabe is doing all right and I’m doing all right. Not a good idea to mix it up.”

“Whatever you say.” She paused. “What should I do with the present?”

“Give it here.”

She handed him the wrapped box. “Where do I find a Ferrari dealership? This is Elko, not Las Vegas.”

“You’re right. Tell you what. We’ll go to Penske-Wynn tomorrow and buy one together. Set up the jet. We’ll leave at eleven if I can ever get enough peace and quiet to get my taxes done.” He gave her a small wave. “Good-bye.”

“You’re welcome for the coffee.”

“Thank you and good-bye.” When she finally closed the door, Donatti smiled. He didn’t love Talia, but sometimes her innocence made him laugh. He regarded the gift from his son. Gabe was a good kid—got that from his mother.

He thought about Terry more often than he should have. She was gone, but it was far from over. They were still legally married and eventually they’d have to face each other one way or the other.

Someday, he thought. Someday.

He opened the ribbon on the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a stack of papers secured by a staple and a small note in Gabe’s neat handwriting.

Merry Christmas, Dad.

The papers were from some kind of medical lab…some kind of medical test.

What the fuck?

As he rifled through the pages, Donatti skimmed the words.

DNA taken from a cigarette

DNA taken from a coffee cup.

Positive paternity match—99.9%.

Donatti threw back his head and laughed out loud.

The little bastard.

Or maybe not.

He picked up his phone and got Gabe’s voice mail.

Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

“Thanks for the papers. If I ever need a kidney, I’ll know who to call.”

Donatti hung up the phone and went back to his work.

An hour later, he picked up the phone and called Gabe a second time.