Chapter 8 - CHICAGO’S MOST FEARED MAN MET MY MOTHER
Hannah’s mother, Elaine Mercer, did not care who Gabriel was.
This terrified him.
Elaine lived in a modest assisted-living community outside Evanston after rheumatoid arthritis made living alone difficult.
Hannah warned him:
“She watches crime documentaries.”
“That seems manageable.”
“About people like you.”
Less manageable.
Gabriel brought flowers.
Hannah stopped him at the entrance.
“Did she ask for flowers?”
He stared.
“That is unfair.”
She laughed.
“Give me those.”
“No.”
He looked offended.
“I am allowed to make independent social judgments.”
“Growth.”
Elaine met him in the common room.
Looked him up and down.
“So you’re the gangster.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
Gabriel answered:
“Formerly more than currently.”
Elaine nodded.
“Good answer.”
Then:
“Do you love my daughter?”
Hannah nearly choked.
“Mom!”
Gabriel did not answer immediately.
Elaine noticed.
“You need time?”
“No.”
He looked at Hannah.
Then at Elaine.
“Yes.”
Elaine nodded.
“And does she love you?”
Gabriel smiled faintly.
“You should ask her.”
Hannah went completely still.
Elaine pointed.
“That was the correct answer.”
Traitors.
Dinner went surprisingly well.
Elaine asked about Sofia.
Gabriel answered.
Asked about business.
He answered selectively but honestly.
Then Elaine said:
“Hannah’s father used to make decisions for everyone.”
Hannah looked at her mother.
“What?”
“Not dangerously.”
Elaine shrugged.
“Annoyingly.”
Hannah’s father had died when she was seventeen.
Good man.
Loving.
But very certain.
Where they vacationed.
What car Elaine drove.
Which college Hannah should attend.
Elaine said:
“People praise decisiveness in men until they live inside it.”
Gabriel listened.
Then:
“How did you handle it?”
“I became louder.”
Hannah laughed.
That explained genetics.
On the drive home, Gabriel said:
“Your mother scares me.”
“She liked you.”
“That doesn’t improve it.”
Then:
“She said something important.”
“What?”
“People praise decisiveness until they live inside it.”
Hannah looked at him.
“You’re thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
Months later, Gabriel made the biggest personal change Hannah had seen.
He sold the penthouse.
Not because Hannah asked.
She liked the view.
Why?
“Too many people work in my home.”
Security.
Staff.
Drivers.
Meetings.
Everything made his personal life feel like headquarters.
He bought a townhouse.
Smaller.
Still ridiculous by Hannah’s standards.
But:
No full-time staff.
Security offsite.
A kitchen he occasionally entered.
Disastrously.
The first time he cooked pasta, Hannah said:
“You can intimidate men with guns but not boiling water.”
“It moved unexpectedly.”
“It boiled.”
“Aggressively.”
Normal.
They built ordinary moments.
Slowly.
Gabriel still had enemies.
Still had complicated businesses.
Still had a reputation.
But Hannah stopped measuring normal by the absence of danger.
She measured it by choice inside uncertainty.
Then Gabriel asked her to move in.
At dinner.
Quietly.
“Would you like to live here?”
She stared.
He immediately said:
“You can say no.”
“I know.”
“No timeline.”
“I know.”
“Keep your apartment if you want.”
“Gabriel.”
“Yes?”
“Stop negotiating against yourself.”
He shut up.
Hannah smiled.
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“Yes?”
“I’ll move in.”
Then:
“But I keep my own account.”
“Obviously.”
“My own car.”
“Yes.”
“My own key.”
He frowned.
“That is generally how keys work.”
“Just checking.”
And because life enjoys irony, the first object Hannah carried into Gabriel’s townhouse was her coffee machine.
Two creams.
No sugar.
He had spent years ordering it correctly.
May you like
Now he finally learned how to make it himself.
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