CHAPTER ONE
The morning of <insert date> began as so many other Sunday mornings had before it. I woke to the sound of birds, chirping outside my window, and the faintest sliver of sunlight cutting through between the curtain and wall as if to say, "It's me - the new day. I'm here and you cannot keep me from entering!"
I stretched for several seconds and then rubbed my eyes, allowing them to slowly adjust to the light that was grower brighter with each passing second. In the foreground, I heard the shower running and a smile made it's way across my face. I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath. A sense of gratitude came over me as it so often did when I thought about what a lucky woman I was. My husband Christopher was in our bedroom shower, our three year old daugther Melissa was in the next room sleeping, and our dog Dakota was standing watch at the foot of our bed. Indeed, to ask for anything more than this out of life would have been sinful. It simply couldn't get any better.
We were living the typical American dream. It was this same dream that caused my parents to leave Italy, decades prior. They had worked hard to build a life for themselves and us children, instilling those very same values in me and my siblings, and it was obvious that it was paying off. Yes, I certainly was a lucky woman, I thought, as I grabbed my robe off of it's hook and stepped into my slippers.
I headed downstairs and took another deep breath. Oh the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning! There was nothing quite like it. Christopher must have snuck out of the bedroom and put it up before getting into the shower. It still surprised me how thoughtful he could be sometimes, even after the honeymoon phase had long passed. With two cups of coffee in hand, I headed over to the kitchen table, trying to figure out what to make for breakfast.
I was so caught up in a ping pong match between pancakes and waffles, that the knock on the front door startled me. For a moment I stood like a confused puppy when he thinks he's heard a noise, head cocked to one side.
We weren't expecting anyone, or at least Christopher hadn't told me we were. I tightened the belt to my robe and pulled my hair back in a rubber band.
"Who is it?", I called, making my way to the door.
"Ma'am this is the FBI," I heard as I opened the door.
"F.B.I.?" I said. "Is everything okay?"
"We're here to speak to Christopher Alderosi. Is he at home?"
"F.B.I.?", I said again.
"Yes ma'am."
A wave of confusion washed over me as I tried to make sense of why the hell the feds were knocking on my front door.
"Can I see some id please?" I fought for the words to come out.
One of the agents flashed his badge and I excused myself as I closed the front door and rushed to the staircase.
"Chris? There are men here from the FBI and they say they want to speak to you. What is going on?"
The morning of <insert date> began as so many other Sunday mornings had before it. I woke to the sound of birds, chirping outside my window, and the faintest sliver of sunlight cutting through between the curtain and wall as if to say, "It's me - the new day. I'm here and you cannot keep me from entering!"
I stretched for several seconds and then rubbed my eyes, allowing them to slowly adjust to the light that was grower brighter with each passing second. In the foreground, I heard the shower running and a smile made it's way across my face. I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath. A sense of gratitude came over me as it so often did when I thought about what a lucky woman I was. My husband Christopher was in our bedroom shower, our three year old daugther Melissa was in the next room sleeping, and our dog Dakota was standing watch at the foot of our bed. Indeed, to ask for anything more than this out of life would have been sinful. It simply couldn't get any better.
We were living the typical American dream. It was this same dream that caused my parents to leave Italy, decades prior. They had worked hard to build a life for themselves and us children, instilling those very same values in me and my siblings, and it was obvious that it was paying off. Yes, I certainly was a lucky woman, I thought, as I grabbed my robe off of it's hook and stepped into my slippers.
I headed downstairs and took another deep breath. Oh the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning! There was nothing quite like it. Christopher must have snuck out of the bedroom and put it up before getting into the shower. It still surprised me how thoughtful he could be sometimes, even after the honeymoon phase had long passed. With two cups of coffee in hand, I headed over to the kitchen table, trying to figure out what to make for breakfast.
I was so caught up in a ping pong match between pancakes and waffles, that the knock on the front door startled me. For a moment I stood like a confused puppy when he thinks he's heard a noise, head cocked to one side.
We weren't expecting anyone, or at least Christopher hadn't told me we were. I tightened the belt to my robe and pulled my hair back in a rubber band.
"Who is it?", I called, making my way to the door.
"Ma'am this is the FBI," I heard as I opened the door.
"F.B.I.?" I said. "Is everything okay?"
"We're here to speak to Christopher Alderosi. Is he at home?"
"F.B.I.?", I said again.
"Yes ma'am."
A wave of confusion washed over me as I tried to make sense of why the hell the feds were knocking on my front door.
"Can I see some id please?" I fought for the words to come out.
One of the agents flashed his badge and I excused myself as I closed the front door and rushed to the staircase.
"Chris? There are men here from the FBI and they say they want to speak to you. What is going on?"
