THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS THREE YEAR OLD DAUGHTER RUN CRYING FROM A HIDDEN ROOM BEHIND HIS PORTRAIT, BUT WHEN HE ASKED WHO HAD LOCKED HER INSIDE, THE LITTLE GIRL POINTED TOWARD HIS FUTURE BRIDE. / Chapter 43 / 200

Chapter 43 - A HOUSE WITH TWO KEYS

We found the house on a windy Saturday in late May. It stood on a quiet street between my apartment and Lily's school, with a small front porch, a sunny kitchen, and a backyard that needed work. It was smaller than the estate and larger than my apartment, a place where furniture seemed likely to be bumped into rather than admired from a distance.

The real estate agent showed us the rooms while we asked questions about inspection reports, accessibility, the roof, the foundation, and the school commute. Luca had learned not to treat a glossy brochure as a promise. I had learned that wanting something didn't mean I had to distrust it automatically.

Lily had come with us for a second visit after the adults completed the initial assessment. She walked through the house with Teresa and asked whether there would be room for her books, her rabbit, and pictures of Caroline. We told her that any move would be discussed carefully and that she would not be expected to decide it alone.

“Can my room have purple curtains?” she asked.

“If we choose this house, we can talk about the curtains,” Luca said.

“And a door that opens?”

“Absolutely,” I replied.

She tested the handle. It worked smoothly. She looked pleased.

Our discussions about ownership were more complicated. Luca could easily purchase the property alone. I could not contribute an equal amount without jeopardizing my savings. I didn't want a financial arrangement that made my home dependent on his goodwill, and he didn't want me taking on debt I couldn't safely manage. We consulted independent legal and financial advisers, separately and together, about possible arrangements. Nobody pressed us to decide before we understood the consequences.

At one meeting a lawyer asked whether we were planning to marry. I felt my cheeks warm. Luca glanced at me and answered, “We're planning to live responsibly. The rest is for us to decide.”

I loved him a little more for that sentence.

Mom toured the house with us. She inspected the bathroom and the stairs more carefully than the living room. She said the porch looked like a good place to drink tea and that Dad would have complained about the guttering.

“Would you come for Sunday dinner?” I asked.

“Of course. But I won't move in. I have my own apartment and my own friends.”

I laughed. “I wasn't about to ask.”

“You looked like you were thinking about it.”

She was right, which was annoying.

The sale process took months. The inspection revealed a drainage issue, and the seller agreed to repair it before closing. The title review required clarification of an old boundary note. We waited for written documentation instead of rushing because we feared losing the house. Meanwhile I stayed in my apartment, Luca remained at the estate with Lily, and our ordinary routines continued.

At Open Door, the board was reviewing a proposal to extend one evening of services each week. The pilot had been successful but staff were tired. We adjusted schedules rather than simply adding hours to everyone's workload. Nia began graduate training, and Elena encouraged her to keep boundaries around study time. We recruited another part-time coordinator using a published hiring process.

Talia called to say she and Jonah had moved into a verified accessible apartment. He had chosen blue paint for his room and was building a model of their new front entrance. The move had been exhausting, and there were still problems with the bus route, but she sounded relieved.

“Will you send me a picture?” I asked, then immediately added, “Only if you want to.”

She laughed. “I might. But mostly I want to sleep.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan.”

That evening Luca and I walked through the empty house one final time before deciding whether to proceed. The rooms echoed softly. Late sun poured across the kitchen floor. I imagined Mom laughing at a table, Lily painting a cardboard city, Teresa checking the oven, and myself coming home from work with a bag of groceries rather than a story about an emergency.

“What are you thinking?” Luca asked.

“That I can see us here. And that I'm frightened.”

“Me too.”

“You? You've owned entire buildings.”

“None of them asked me to become a better person every day.”

I laughed, then grew serious. “This house won't fix the hard parts.”

“I know. It will just give us a place to have them honestly.”

We stood by the kitchen window and held hands. I thought of the old portrait, the blue door, and all the spaces people had tried to control. This house wouldn't be a reward for saving anyone. It would be a choice we made together, with clear terms and enough room for everyone to remain themselves.

We decided to proceed, subject to the final documents. When the agent asked what we'd call the house, Lily answered before either of us could speak.

Before choosing the house, we spent an entire Saturday testing the neighborhood without a real estate agent. We arrived separately, walked the route to Lily's school, and checked the nearest bus stops. One had a shelter but no bench. Another had an accessible curb cut but an awkward crossing. We noted the issues and asked the transportation authority about planned improvements instead of assuming a beautiful street would be convenient for everyone.

Mom joined us after lunch and insisted on walking from the bus stop herself. She paused twice, then declared the distance manageable on good days and less appealing in winter. I appreciated the precision. She wasn't being difficult. She was describing the conditions under which she could enjoy visiting.

Lily wanted to know whether there were other children nearby. We walked to the public park and watched a group playing beside a fenced garden. She asked whether the neighborhood had a library. Luca showed her the route on the map, and she began designing a cardboard version in her head.

At the corner grocery, the owner told us the area had changed over the years. Rents had risen, several families had moved, and the neighborhood association was discussing ways to keep local services accessible. His words made me pause. Buying a house in a desirable area would place us inside a community with its own pressures, not in an empty picture waiting for our happiness.

We attended a neighborhood association meeting as prospective residents. People discussed traffic, street trees, and the lack of a safe crossing near the school. No one asked our names beyond what was needed for the guest sign-in. I liked the anonymity. Luca looked slightly bewildered by a debate about garbage-bin placement that lasted fifteen minutes.

“Welcome to ordinary government,” I whispered.

He smiled. “It's surprisingly passionate.”

A woman near the front asked whether the association could publish meeting notes without including residents' home addresses. The chair agreed to review the privacy policy. I looked at Luca, and he squeezed my hand. The concerns we discussed at Open Door were not unique to our organization. They belonged to every place where people tried to live together.

That evening we returned to my apartment and spread the house information across the table. We marked what we knew, what needed independent inspection, and what would make the location impractical. The list grew longer. Instead of losing enthusiasm, I felt calmer. The house was becoming a real decision rather than a dream too beautiful to question.

Luca looked at the pages and laughed softly. “I once bought an office building with less discussion.”

“And how did that go?”

“Expensively.”

I laughed with him. We made tea, opened the window, and let the sounds of the city fill the room. I still loved the apartment. I didn't need to stop loving it before choosing something new.

“The House With Two Keys,” she said.

We also checked practical questions the glossy listing hadn't answered. The basement had a sump pump with maintenance records, the neighborhood had seasonal drainage issues, and the school crossing needed improvement. The inspector explained the house's limits as clearly as its strengths. That honesty made me more willing to choose it, not less. I wanted a home we could maintain with open eyes.

“Why two?” I asked.

We took notes about the likely ongoing costs too: utilities, taxes, insurance, maintenance, and the work needed in the garden. The numbers made the house less like a fantasy and more like a place we could responsibly inhabit. I was relieved that Luca was willing to discuss them without pretending money solved every concern.

“One for Daddy and one for Hannah. And Teresa gets one if she wants. And I get a key when I'm older and responsible.”

Luca smiled. “How will we know you're responsible?”