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that year he decided to close out the New York operation and sell the houses and the
mall property. For that purpose he brought his whole family East on a last visit. They
would stay a month, wind up business, Kay would do the personal family's packing and
shipping of household goods. There were a million other minor details.
Now the Corleone Family was unchallengeable, and Clemenza had his own Family.
Rocco Lampone was the Corleone caporegime. In Nevada, Albert Neri was head of all
security for the Family-controlled hotels. Hagen too, was part of Michael's Western
Family.
Time helped heal the old wounds. Connie Corleone was reconciled to her brother
Michael. Indeed not more than a week after her terrible accusations she apologized to
Michael for what she had said and assured Kay that there had been no truth in her
words, that it had been only a young widow's hysteria.
Connie Corleone easily found a new husband; in fact, she did not wait the year of
respect before filling her bed again with a fine young fellow who had come to work for
the Corleone Family as a male secretary. A boy from a reliable Italian family but
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graduated from the top business college in America. Naturally his marriage to the sister
of the Don made his future assured.
Kay Adams Corleone had delighted her in-laws by taking instruction in the Catholic
religion and joining that faith. Her two boys were also, naturally, being brought up in that
church, as was required. Michael himself had not been too pleased by this development.
He would have preferred the children to be Protestant, it was more American.
To her surprise, Kay came to love living in Nevada. She loved the scenery, the hills
and canyons of garishly red rock, the burning deserts, the unexpected and blessedly
refreshing lakes, even the heat. Her two boys rode their own ponies. She had real
servants, not bodyguards. And Michael lived a more normal life. He owned a
construction business; he joined the businessmen's clubs and civic committees; he had
a healthy interest in local politics without interfering publicly. It was a good life. Kay was
happy that they were closing down their New York house and that Las Vegas would be
truly their permanent home. She hated coming back to New York. And so on this last
trip she had arranged all the packing and shipping of goods with the utmost efficiency
and speed, and now on the final day she felt that same urgency to leave that longtime
patients feel when it is time to be discharged from the hospital.
On that final day, Kay Adams Corleone woke at dawn. She could hear the roar of the
truck motors outside on the mall. The trucks that would empty all the houses of furniture.
The Corleone Family would be flying back to Las Vegas in the afternoon, including
Mama Corleone.
When Kay came out of the bathroom, Michael was propped up on his pillow smoking
a cigarette. "Why the hell do you have to go to church every morning?" he said. "I don't
mind Sundays, but why the hell during the week? You're as bad as my mother." He
reached over in the darkness and switched on the tablelight.
Kay sat at the edge of the bed to pull on her stockings. "You know how converted
Catholics are," she said. "They take it more seriously."
Michael reached over to touch her thigh, on the warm skin where the top of her nylon
hose ended. "Don't," she said. "I'm taking Communion this morning."
He didn't try to hold her when she got up from the bed. He said, smiling slightly, "If
you're such a strict Catholic, how come you let the kids duck going to church so much?"
She felt uncomfortable and she was wary. He was studying her with what she thought
of privately as his "Don's" eye. "They have plenty of time," she said. "When we get back
home, I'll make them attend more."
She kissed him good-bye before she left. Outside the house the air was already
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getting warm. The summer sun rising in the east was red. Kay walked to where her car
was parked near the gates of the mall. Mama Corleone, dressed in her widow black,
was already sitting in it, waiting for her. It had become a set routine, early Mass, every
morning, together.
Kay kissed the old woman's wrinkled cheek, then got behind the wheel.
Mama Corleone asked suspiciously, "You eata breakfast?"
"No," Kay said.
The old woman nodded her head approvingly. Kay had once forgotten that it was
forbidden to take food from midnight on before receiving Holy Communion. That had
been a long time ago, but Mama Corleone never trusted her after that and always
checked. "You feel all right?" the old woman asked.
"Yes," Kay said.
The church was small and desolate in the early morning sunlight. Its stained-glass
windows shielded the interior from heat, it would be cool there, a place to rest. Kay
helped her mother-in-law up the white stone steps and then let her go before her. The
old woman preferred a pew up front, close to the altar. Kay waited on the steps for an