Chapter 2 - The Name From Before
By Wednesday morning, Olivia had accumulated eleven browser tabs, three pages of handwritten notes, and exactly zero explanations.
Thomas Avery was seventy-one years old.
Retired.
Widowed.
Former history teacher.
Former guidance counselor.
Volunteer tutor.
Board member of a small educational nonprofit in Jamaica Plain.
No criminal record.
No visible connection to the Mancini family.
Nothing about him looked dangerous.
That made him more interesting.
Olivia sat in the back row of an economics lecture pretending to take notes while searching archived newspapers on her laptop.
Professor Klein talked about market incentives.
Olivia searched her father’s name beside Thomas Avery’s.
Nothing.
She tried:
Stefano Mancini East Boston High School.
One old yearbook index appeared.
Class of 1996.
Olivia clicked.
The page required an alumni subscription.
She swore under her breath.
The girl beside her glanced over.
“Sorry.”
Olivia closed the browser as Professor Klein looked toward the back row.
For five minutes she tried listening.
Then her phone vibrated.
DAD.
She ignored it.
It vibrated again.
Then a message appeared.
Dinner. House. 7.
Olivia typed:
Busy.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Cancel it.
She almost laughed.
Instead she turned her phone face down.
At 6:52 that evening, Olivia walked through the front door of the Mancini family home in Brookline.
She had considered refusing.
Then she remembered that information was easier to extract face-to-face.
The house was large without being gaudy, which was precisely how Stefano liked everything.
Stone exterior.
Dark hardwood.
Art that looked expensive but never announced the price.
The dining room had seating for fourteen.
Tonight, only two places were set.
Stefano entered as Olivia poured herself water.
“You came.”
“You ordered me to.”
“I invited you.”
“You wrote two words and a time.”
“It worked.”
She sat.
Dinner arrived through the kitchen.
Olivia watched the housekeeper disappear.
Then she looked at her father.
“Thomas Avery.”
Stefano didn’t touch his wine.
“Daniel talks too much.”
“He barely told me anything.”
“He told you enough.”
“Apparently not.”
Stefano unfolded his napkin.
“Eat.”
“No.”
“Olivia.”
“How do you know Thomas Avery?”
Stefano cut into his food.
“You searched him.”
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
“That he taught at your high school.”
“Then you know the answer.”
“No. I know he was a teacher at a school containing hundreds of students.”
Stefano continued eating.
Olivia felt her anger returning.
“Did he teach you?”
“Yes.”
The answer came so casually she almost missed its significance.
“What subject?”
“History.”
“What year?”
“Several.”
“You had the same history teacher for several years?”
“He taught more than history.”
“What does that mean?”
Stefano set down his fork.
“This is exactly why I told you to leave it alone.”
“Because asking basic questions is dangerous?”
“Because you have a habit of digging until you convince yourself every buried thing is treasure.”
“Sometimes people bury evidence.”
His expression hardened.
“Do not play detective with my past.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That answer worked better when I needed permission to go to a sleepover.”
Stefano stood and walked toward the cabinet.
He poured water instead of alcohol.
Olivia noticed.
That bothered her.
Her father was uncomfortable.
She had seen Stefano face angry contractors, hostile attorneys, reporters, even federal investigators who once visited one of his offices.
He had smiled through all of it.
But the name Thomas Avery disturbed him.
“Did you hurt him?” Olivia asked.
Stefano turned slowly.
“No.”
“Did your family?”
“No.”
“Did he work for you?”
“No.”
“Did he owe you money?”
“No.”
“Did you owe him?”
Silence.
Olivia’s pulse quickened.
“That’s it.”
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I’m tired of your questions.”
“You owe him something.”
Stefano returned to the table.
“You are creating a story because you dislike not knowing.”
“And you’re refusing to tell me because you dislike not controlling the story.”
Something cold entered his expression.
“Enough.”
Olivia leaned forward.
“He paid my tuition.”
“I know.”
“You tried to stop him.”
Stefano looked toward the doorway.
Daniel must have told him exactly what he had said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I am capable of educating my own daughter.”
There was something raw beneath the words.
Pride.
Not greed.
Not fear.
Pride.
Olivia saw it but misunderstood it.
“So that’s what this is?”
“What?”
“You were embarrassed someone else paid.”
“I did not need his money.”
“But he paid anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me believe it was yours.”
Stefano’s hand tightened around his glass.
“I made sure the arrangement was legitimate.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No one purchased influence over you.”
“How do I know?”
“Because I know him.”
“And I don’t.”
“You don’t need to.”
Olivia pushed back her chair.
Stefano’s voice stopped her.
“He will not contact you.”
“He already has.”
Stefano froze.
Olivia had lied.
She knew it immediately.
So did he.
But his reaction revealed something.
She had expected anger.
Instead, Stefano looked almost afraid.
“Did he?”
Olivia held his gaze.
“What would you do if he had?”
“Answer me.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Olivia.”
She stood.
“You’re worried about what he might tell me.”
“I am worried about you walking into matters you don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
Stefano looked away.
That was the moment Olivia’s suspicion hardened.
There was a secret.
A real one.
And whatever it was, her father feared Thomas Avery could expose it.
“I’m going to find him,” she said.
“No.”
“You don’t get to decide.”
“I strongly suggest you reconsider.”
“Is that a threat?”
Stefano’s head snapped toward her.
“Never from me.”
The answer came instantly.
For all their conflict, Olivia believed him.
He took a slow breath.
“Thomas is an old man. He has a quiet life. Leave him out of whatever argument you think you’re having with me.”
“He put himself in my life when he paid my tuition.”
“He did that because—”
Stefano stopped.
Olivia waited.
“Because what?”
He looked furious with himself.
“Because he is stubborn.”
“That’s your explanation?”
“It is accurate.”
Olivia grabbed her coat.
“Thanks for dinner.”
“You ate nothing.”
“Neither did you.”
She walked toward the hall.
“Olivia.”
She turned.
Stefano stood behind the dining chair, looking suddenly older than forty-eight.
“If you contact him, be respectful.”
She almost smiled.
“You’re not telling me not to.”
His expression closed again.
“I already did.”
“No. Just now you told me how to behave when I do it.”
Stefano said nothing.
Olivia left.
Outside, cold Boston air hit her face.
She walked down the driveway and called Grace.
“I think I’m right.”
“About what?”
“My dad’s hiding something.”
Grace groaned.
“That sentence has horror-movie energy.”
“I asked if Avery contacted me.”
“And?”
“My father practically stopped breathing.”
“That could mean anything.”
“It means Avery knows something.”
“You still don’t know that it’s bad.”
“He tried to stop the tuition payments.”
“Maybe he has pride.”
Olivia stopped walking.
Pride.
The word matched what she had seen.
But it didn’t explain the secrecy.
“Maybe,” she said.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She stared.
“Grace, hold on.”
She answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice spoke.
Older.
Measured.
“Is this Olivia Mancini?”
Her heart accelerated.
“Yes.”
A short pause.
“My name is Thomas Avery.”
Olivia stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
Grace’s voice crackled faintly through the other line before Olivia ended that call.
Thomas continued.
“I suspect you’ve recently discovered something your father hoped would remain uncomplicated.”
“You paid my tuition.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think that conversation deserves more than a phone call.”
Olivia looked back at the lights of her father’s house.
“Did my father tell you I was looking for you?”
“No.”
“Then how did you get my number?”
Avery chuckled softly.
“Your father isn’t the only person in Boston who knows how to find someone.”
Olivia didn’t know whether that was funny.
Avery seemed to realize it.
“That sounded more sinister than I intended.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
“Where can we meet?”
He gave her the name of a small café in Jamaica Plain.
“Tomorrow. Four o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
“One condition.”
“What?”
“Don’t lie to your father about where you’re going.”
Olivia frowned.
“Why do you care?”
“Because you’re already angry at him for keeping something from you. It would be hypocritical to respond by doing the same.”
She stared down the street.
“You still sound like a teacher.”
“That affliction never really goes away.”
Before he ended the call, Olivia asked one more question.
“Mr. Avery?”
“Yes?”
“Did my father do something to you?”
Silence.
Then:
“Your father did many things when he was young.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Avery’s voice softened.
“But perhaps it’s the answer you need tonight.”
The call ended.
Olivia stood beneath a streetlamp, staring at the dark screen.
She should have felt relieved.
Instead, she felt more unsettled.
Thomas Avery did not sound afraid of Stefano.
He did not sound angry.
He did not sound like a man seeking revenge.
He sounded like someone who knew Stefano better than Olivia did.
When she returned to campus, she searched deeper.
At 1:13 in the morning, she found an archived scan from the East Boston High School yearbook.
One page contained faculty photographs.
Thomas Avery was there, thirty years younger, dark-haired and thin, wearing a crooked tie.
Another page showed graduating seniors.
Olivia searched until she found her father.
Stefano Mancini.
Age seventeen.
His hair longer.
His expression harder.
He wasn’t smiling.
Beneath every senior photograph was a short quotation.
Most were jokes.
Song lyrics.
Sports references.
Stefano’s was different.
Three words.
Almost aggressively simple.
I made it.
Olivia stared at those words.
Then she noticed something handwritten at the bottom of the scanned page.
The writing was faint.
A note apparently added to Stefano’s personal yearbook.
She enlarged it.
The ink became blurry but readable.
You did.
Now make it mean something.
— T.A.
Olivia leaned back.
Tomorrow, she would meet Thomas Avery.
May you like
And she was beginning to suspect the secret was not about what Stefano had done to him.
It might be about what Thomas Avery had once done for Stefano.
