Chapter 17
IN THIS GENTLY reimagined tale of Little Italy, the Paladino family has lived in their house on Mulberry Street in Little Italy since 1910. When Antonio Paladino, the brothers’ great-great-grandfather cobbled together some money working as a skilled mason, the first thing he did with it was buy property.
By the time Joseph Paladino had his three sons, the Paladinos owned a great deal of what is now the very heart of Little Italy. The Paladino Trust had been set up years ago to protect the properties and the family’s privacy in the hope of preserving Little Italy. Each of the three sons owns property within the Trust, comprised of both commercial businesses and housing.
But none of the family has any intention to sell. The people in the tight-knit community have no idea that the Paladinos are their landlords, hidden behind the name that had been assigned to the Trust. They believe they have a rent-control situation that keeps their rents reasonable—unlike the rest of the newly gentrified Lower East Side of Manhattan.
“WATCH IT!”
Luca followed his brother’s gaze across the gutted floor of the Grasso home and let out a breath. “It’s okay. She’s got it.”
“She almost hit Frankie with that beam,” Tony said.
“She did not. You’re just worried because she’s a girl.”
“Hey, up yours. You know better than that.”
Luca laughed. If his brother didn’t know when he was screwing around by now, then that was his problem. Luca had enough of his own.
“Whoa, is that the famous Tony Paladino?” Sal’s booming voice came from behind them, and they both turned around. “What’s got you in a hard hat, boss? You felt like slumming today, or what?”
“I thought I’d take a break from the office. That okay with you?”
Sal grinned and slapped Tony on the shoulder. “I’m just messing with you. I bet you came by to check up on my niece. The girl’s got chops,” he said, glancing over at her. “Carlita’s still green but she’s gonna do a good job.”
“I’m not worried,” Tony said and ignored Luca’s snorting laugh.
“Yeah, I know,” Sal said. “I heard that you’re too busy looking for wedding rings to bother with remodels.”
Luca turned on Tony. “You’re looking for rings? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Tony took off his hard hat and ran a hand through his hair. “One ring,” he said, shaking his head. “I saw a ring in a window and I asked about it. That’s it. What I want to know is who’s spying on me and shooting off their mouth?”
Luca, along with Sal and several others on the construction crew laughed. As if anyone could get away with anything in their tight-knit neighborhood. Gossip ran like wine through Manhattan’s Little Italy and no one was safe.
“Hey, Tony, while I’ve got you here,” Sal said, “I’m going to change the schedule on the Hester Street apartments. We’ve got two vacancies there so we can go in and take care of the plumbing before they’re occupied again.”
Tony nodded, and Luca thought about the last time he’d been the subject of gossip—way back during his junior year at Columbia when he’d bought his first motorcycle and rode it home one weekend. Pretty lame as far as gossip went. But when had he had time to get into any real trouble?
What was supposed to have been five years of hitting the books, partying and hooking up—not necessarily in that order—had been interrupted by Tony’s rocky marriage, their dad’s first heart attack and the damn recession that had slowed construction in the city down to a trickle.
Luca left Tony talking to Sal, the project manager in charge of several of their remodels. After a quick word with Frankie, who was taking measurements for the drywall, Luca thought about his brother ring shopping. It made sense.
After their father’s second heart attack, Tony had taken over the company so smoothly there hadn’t been a single complaint. Somehow he’d managed to stay on top of his new responsibilities. At the same time, he’d fallen hard for Catherine. They were perfect for each other. Luca could definitely see them getting married soon.
Luca wished his future was a little more certain. At thirty, he’d managed to complete his architecture degree and a year’s credit toward his required three-year internship, he had a good job working for the family business and a steady income. He knew he was luckier than most people in every way that counted. But that didn’t stop him from feeling somewhat adrift.
His folks were so proud of the idea of his becoming a “big-deal architect” that he couldn’t imagine what they would think if they knew what he really wanted to do was focus on his carpentry. And not just the finishing work he did for the business, but the custom pieces he made on the side.
Right now Paladino & Sons had great opportunities doing remodels and renovations all over Lower Manhattan. But with an in-house architect, they could expand into a whole new market—public buildings, chain stores and even military contracts. Jobs that, while they wouldn’t offer much creativity, would bring a major increase in cash flow and, more important, steady work for their stable of loyal construction crews.
Presently, Luca had the last two years of his required internship lined up at a prestigious firm, after which he’d be eligible for his professional license. His family was counting on him.
“Hey.”
Luca hadn’t seen his brother walk up to him. “What’s up?”
“That’s what I was gonna ask you,” Tony said. “You seem distracted. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Everything’s fine. Just, uh... I’ve asked a couple of guys from the Sanders project to come help me move some stuff to the Mercury Building.”
“What stuff?”
“Mostly equipment and tools, but some of my personal stuff, as well. I’m moving into the apartment while I do the renovations.”
Tony’s eyebrows rose pretty damn high. “Now?”
“Yeah, now. Angelo finished putting in the new pipes, the electrical is done and I’ve started busting down walls. So I’ll live upstairs while I work on the downstairs.” In accordance with the Paladino Trust—the one that decreed no one but the immediate family could know that the Paladinos owned a great deal of real estate in the Little Italy area and kept the old timers’ rents ridiculously low—Luca had claimed one of the two-story apartments on the top floor of the family-owned building.
Tony shook his head. “What about your internship?”
“The offer’s open-ended,” Luca said. “It’ll