Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (50% full).

*ringring*'.

A man's voice answers, a tenor touched with the accents of urban Chicago. "Vencenzo," he says crisply.

Natalie hesitates, then says, "My name is Natalie Baker. Thomas Grey said I would be calling... about Rina." The end of her sentence rises fractionally, almost as if she were asking a question.

"Yes, of course." There are a few noises in the background; movement.

She hesitates again. "Am I... speaking to the proper person? And is this a good time? I just realized it's close to six out there. I just got home from work."

"Actually, I'm still in Saint Claire, and it's a fine time," he answers.

Natalie says, "Oh," clearly surprised. "...In that case, would you rather meet somewhere? I'd like to speak to you without Rina present, if I may."

"Certainly," he answers. "Perhaps dinner? Shall I pick you up at five?"

"That would be... yes. That would be fine. Have you been to the Bluenote?"

"I have. Would you prefer to meet me there, or do you want me to pick you up at your place?"

Natalie's on more familiar ground now, and it shows clearly in her voice. "I'll meet you there. I'm sure you won't have much difficulty picking me out, but I'll be wearing a red sweater and I've brown hair. I look forward to meeting you, Mr. Vencenzo. I'll see you at five."

There's a sleek limo outside the jazz club; when she approaches the Blue Note, a man steps out of the car and quickly catches up to her. If the family resemblance isn't immediately apparent in his features, it is clear enough in ethnicity and manner : he's shy of six feet, lean-built, and about as Italian as a Verdi opera. The man is in his mid to late forites, with a foxlike face, given to friendliness but held to merely cordial. He moves with a more masculine version of Rina's grace and dexterity, the smoothness showing to advantage in well-tailored slacks and sport-jacket. His dark hair, too, has a way of escaping control; though cut short enough, it looks a bit windblown on top.

Coming into step next to her, he stops and offers a graceful hand. "Ms. Baker. A pleasure to meet you."

Natalie startles badly, turns quickly to face the man with her hands coming up between them - not to ward off, or shake his own, but with a flash of martial readiness. A beat passes and she relaxes, sinking back onto her heels with a sheepish little smile to take his hand in her own. "Mr. Vencenzo. I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Welcome to St. Claire." Her grip is firm but not punishing; she makes no attempt to squeeze his hand beyond the bounds of good manners. "I called ahead - shall we go in?"

"Sure," he answers, giving a slightly rueful smile. "Sorry I startled you." Despite his age, there's a certain boyish charm. "Nice reflexes," he adds, with a touch of wry good humor.

"Gotta have them in my line of work," she agrees with a hint of self-deprecation. "Come on." Half-invitation, half-command, nonetheless she takes the lead into the jazz club. The Blue Note at this early hour is only lightly populated, the quiet music piped through loudspeakers rather than performed live. Their table ends up near a wall, halfway between kitchen and entrance, and on the opposite side of the room from the stage. After some discussion with the waiter Nat ends up getting the trout and a light beer.

Vencenzo likewise orders his dinner and begins to relax, over a glass of wine. There are definite smile lines at the corners of his eyes. "So," he says, setting down his glass.

"So," she agrees, shifting her weight forward and dropping her voice to exclude the most casual of eavesdropping servers. "Mr. Vencenzo, I'm concerned about your daughter. I... I'm afraid that we aren't able to give her the amount - the kind of care she needs, here in St. Claire. I've heard..." She trails off, eyes gone concerned, then shakes her head. "I don't know quite how to say this. I've been... I only want what's best for my family. That includes Rina."

His eyes narrow a moment, somewhere in the middle, but then he relaxes a touch as she finishes speaking. Straightening slightly in his chair, he tips his head a little. "I'll be staying at least until she's stable again." There's a trace of something pained, perhaps, at the corners of his eyes. "It's happened before. It may not be much comfort to you, but my daughter is... remarkably strong, Ms. Baker."

Natalie glances away unhappily, right hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. "I'm sure she is. I just wonder if it would be... if it would be better for her to be someplace else. Somewhere not here, with all these..." Another hesitation, and her eyes flick back to the man. "Ghosts. That's why I wanted to speak with you. You know her far better than I ever can. She doesn't speak to me. I don't want her to feel like, like I'm trying to force her away. I just don't know what to do."

Vencenzo's brow furrows slightly. "I know it's difficult," he says quietly, leaning forward a touch. Dark eyes glance down for a moment, and then looks across to her. "I've considered it before--but Chicago isn't the place for her. She's been here since she was seventeen. From all the doctors I've spoken to... it's best if she stays where her friends are." A tiny, pained smile touches the man's mouth, just a little sardonic. "Not to mention her lovers. There's a family in her life, other than just me." The dark, knowing eyes meet Natalie's. "Don't get me wrong. I love my daughter like there's no tomorrow. But I stopped bein' the center of her life a long time ago."

"As for having any control over where she goes or what she's doin'..." He clears his throat, and that crooked, wry expression returns as he glances down. "I haven't been able to manage that since she was a teenager."

Natalie's greenish eyes meet his for a moment, a faint, sick smile curling her lips, then she glances away again before any suggestion of challenge can be raised. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help her. I... it tears me up inside, having family hurt and not being able to do anything. I know she doesn't like me. And that's... I know I don't get along with," again a heartbeat's hesitation, "Women. But I'm what we've got here. And I don't want to shove myself on her when she doesn't want me around. So my hands are tied. I have to help her, but I can't."

He nods slowly in answer. "You can, however, act through those people whose hands are not tied." He frowns slightly and looks at her. "Aside from that... I'm not really sure how she'd take any overture from you. I don't think there's hostility there... just, maybe, a failure to get along. The impression I have isn't that she hates you, but that she doesn't get you. Don't know of that can be helped, but... I don't think tryin' to be friendly could be taken wrong..." He looks over as the waiter approaches. "Ah. Great."

As the food is served up, the Italian man continues to frown in thought, distractedly thanking the waiter.

The Galliard likewise murmurs her thanks, careful not to look too closely or overlong at the man. Even so, he barely waits long enough for an answer to his question of, "Anything else I can get for you two?" before heading off for safer waters. "--Friendly," she laughs once he's gone, her tone gone wry. "I've tried that and gotten my nose slapped for it. Oh, not by Rina, but I learn fast enough. I figure my seeing her less than a handful of times in the past year is explanation enough of how she feels about me. But. If you think it'll help, I'll try it again. I want - I need my family happy and healthy. And if not happy, then stable. If not stable, then at least taken care of and safe. "

Vencenzo nods, starting in on his lamb. After a bite or two, he looks across to her again, to ask, "Have you met the girlfriend? Jenny?"

Concentrating on deboning her trout, Nat shakes her head. Then stops, head cocking to one side so she can frown at the salt. "I was going to say no, but I think I did once. It was after Rina'd... she'd been knocked in the head and Emily wanted me to keep an eye on her. But this other woman came over - Jenny, I think - and they seemed pretty close, so I let them have their privacy."

The man takes a sip of his wine. "I think that's a lot of what keeps her together, these days--Jenny, and the daughter. It's amazing what the presence of a child can do. Someone you have to take care of, a reason to be responsible." He lets out a breath. "Thank God for that young woman."

That wry little laugh is back. "Oh trust me, I know. I'm all about the feeling responsible." Conversation turns to lighter topics for a while, as his lamb and her trout steadily disappear. Finally, however, she nudges her plate away, rests her wrists on the edge of the table, and studies him. "Do you... believe that staying here is really what is best for Rina? She takes risks, stupid risks, she and Jeremy both. They aren't..." She cuts herself off with another self-deprecating smirk and a dismissive flick of her fingers. "Cripes. Ignore that last bit. If you think it's best for Rina to stay here, then... then I'll do my best for her. I just hate not being able to do anything."

The man nods minutely. "I feel much better about her being here--with reasons to live, and with friends. I know she's reckless--" His eyes crinkle at the corners with a wiseguy's smile. "She comes by it honest. But I trust people like Grey, and I'm a lot more comfortable with her bein' here around them, than in Chicago with just me for support. Too isolated." Frowning, he looks across to her. "Frankly, I'd rather have her taking those risks around people who can defend her, or convince her not to take them in the first place. And those people are here."

Nat smirks again. "And if you think I've got any control over what she does... It'd be easier if we could just keep them on leashes, wouldn't it?"

One corner of his mouth tugs upward wryly. "That's what my ex-wife used to say about me," he quips.

The joke brings an honest smile to her face, temporarily erasing the worry from her eyes. "She probably knows how to pick locks anyway. Well, thank you for listening, anyway. And your advice. If there's anything I can do for you while you're in town, please let me know."

His smile is genuine. "Of course. The same to you--while I'm here, and if you ever happen to head out to Chicago."

[End of log]