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wrong. And I want Tom settled in Vegas so he won't be concerned in the affair. I think a
year from now."
"You've prepared for everything?" the Don asked. He did not look at Michael when he
said this. Michael said gently, "You have no part. You're not responsible. I take all
responsibility. I would refuse to let you even veto. If you tried to do that now, I would
leave the Family and go my own way. You're not responsible."
The Don was silent for a long time and then he sighed. He said, "So be it. Maybe
that's why I retired, maybe that's why I've turned everything over to you. I've done my
share in life, I haven't got the heart anymore. And there are some duties the best of men
can't assume. That's it then."
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218
During that year Kay Adams Corleone was delivered of a second child, another boy.
She delivered easily, without any trouble whatsoever, and was welcomed back to the
mall like a royal princess. Connie Corleone presented the baby with a silk layette
handmade in Italy, enormously expensive and beautiful. She told Kay, "Carlo found it.
He shopped all over New York to get something extra special after I couldn't find
anything I really liked." Kay smiled her thanks, understood immediately that she was to
tell Michael this fine tale. She was on her way to becoming a Sicilian.
Also during that year, Nino Valenti died of a cerebral hemorrhage. His death made the
front pages of the tabloids because the movie Johnny Fontane had featured him in had
opened a few weeks before and was a smash hit, establishing Nino as a major star. The
papers mentioned that Johnny Fontane was handling the funeral arrangements, that the
funeral would be private, only family and close friends to attend. One sensational story
even claimed that in an interview Johnny Fontane had blamed himself for his friend's
death, that he should have forced his friend to place himself under medical care, but the
reporter made it sound like the usual self-reproach of the sensitive but innocent
bystander to a tragedy. Johnny Fontane had made his childhood friend, Nino Valenti, a
movie star and what more could a friend do?
No member of the Corleone Family attended the California funeral except Freddie.
Lucy and Jules Segal attended. The Don himself had wanted to go to California but had
suffered a slight heart attack, which kept him in his bed for a month. He sent a huge
floral wreath instead. Albert Neri was also sent West as the official representative of the
Family.
Two days after Nino's funeral, Mae Greene was shot to death in the Hollywood home
of his movie-star mistress; Albert Neri did not reappear in New York until almost a
month later. He had taken his vacation in the Caribbean and returned to duty tanned
almost black. Michael Corleone welcomed him with a smile and a few words of praise,
which included the information that Neri would from then on receive an extra "living," the
Family income from an East Side "book" cousidered especially rich. Neri was content,
satisfied that he lived in a world that properly rewarded a man who did his duty.
Book 8
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219
Michael Corleone had taken precautions against every eventuality. His planning was
faultless, his security impeccable. He was patient, hoping to use the full year to prepare.
But he was not to get his necessary year because fate itself took a stand against him,
and in the most surprising fashion. For it was the Godfather, the great Don himself, who
failed Michael Corleone.
On one sunny Sunday morning, while the women were at church, Don Vito Corleone
dressed in his gardening uniform: baggy gray trousers, a faded blue shirt, battered dirty-
brown fedora decorated by a stained gray silk hatband. The Don had gained
considerable weight in his few years and worked on his tomato vines, he said, for the
sake of his health. But he deceived no one.
The truth was, he loved tending his garden; he loved the sight of it early on a morning.
It brought back his childhood in Sicily sixty years ago, brought it back without the terror,
the sorrow of his own father's death. Now the beans in their rows grew little white
flowers on top; strong green stalks of scallion fenced everything in. At the foot of the
garden a spouted barrel stood guard. It was filled with liquidy cow manure, the linest
garden fertilizer. Also in that lower part of the garden were the square wooden frames
he had built with his own hands, the sticks cross-tied with thick white string. Over these
frames crawled the tomato vines.
The Don hastened to water his garden. It must be done before the sun waxed too hot