“I didn’t even know where he’d been living,” Salvatore confessed with a shrug.

“He’d moved,” said the lawyer. “We have his clothes, by the way. I still have to issue probate, but he has left the residue of his estate to you.”

“To me? What about the rest of the family?”

“His will is very clear. I will let you know as soon as everything is completed. Then you will need to come to my office so that we can complete the formalities.” He paused. “There is more than ten thousand dollars.”

“Ten thousand? For me?”

The lawyer gave him a faint smile. “In his will you are called ‘Salvatore Caruso, my brother and best friend.’ He wished you to have it all.”

That Sunday, out at his parents’ house, Salvatore decided to say nothing. Perhaps it was superstition, but until he had the money in his hands, he did not wish to tempt the fates by speaking of it.

He had already decided what to do with the money. Giuseppe was already set up. Their parents were looked after, and if anything more were needed, he could supply it. His sister Maria was married and not in need. Uncle Luigi had everything he wanted, and God knows what his investments were worth. So that just left Angelo. The money would help him look after his brother.

The rightness of his decision was confirmed that very day.

Teresa and her cousin had arrived again, and while her cousin sat with Angelo, Salvatore and she strolled over to spend time with Giuseppe and his family. They chatted about family matters, and then the talk turned to Angelo. Salvatore noticed that at the mention of his name, his brother’s two children looked at each other and cried “Uncle Angelo.” Then they laughed. Giuseppe’s wife explained.

“Angelo’s been helping them with their lessons. He draws pictures for them at the same time.”

“That’s good,” said Salvatore. “He likes to be occupied.”

“Actually,” said Giuseppe, “Angelo can be quite useful. I had to write some business letters about the farm, and he did them for me. Better than I could have done.”

“I hope you’re paying him something for all this work,” said Salvatore. But Giuseppe only shrugged.

“He’s my own brother. Let him be useful to the family.”

“He doesn’t ask for anything,” his wife concurred.

This did not please Salvatore. It seemed to him that the family were taking advantage of Angelo’s good nature a little too easily, but he did not say anything. He couldn’t help thinking, however, that if anything happened to himself and Uncle Luigi, Angelo would only be valued by them to the extent that he was useful. Then it occurred to him that it might be a good idea to test Teresa on this subject, too. On the way back to his parents’ house, therefore, he said: “I worry about Angelo, you know. Before my sister died in the Triangle fire, she told me that I’d always have to look after him. And I think she was right.” He paused. “So whatever I do, even if I have a wife and family some day, my house has to be a place where Angelo can live if he needs to. Does that seem crazy to you?” He watched her carefully as he put this proposition.