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heard the front door open. She went out of the kitchen and saw Clemenza, Neri and

Rocco Lampone come in with the bodyguards. Michael had his back to her, but she

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moved so that she could see him in profile. At that moment Clemenza addressed her

husband, greeting him formally.

"Don Michael," Clemenza said.

Kay could see how Michael stood to receive their homage. He reminded her of

statues in Rome, statues of those Roman emperors of antiquity, who, by divine right,

held the power of life and death over their fel ow men. One hand was on his hip, the

profile of his face showed a cold proud power, his body was carelessly, arrogantly at

ease, weight resting on one foot slightly behind the other. The caporegimes stood

before him. In that moment Kay knew that everything Connie had accused Michael of

was true. She went back into the kitchen and wept.

Book 9

Chapter 32

The bloody victory of the Corleone Family was not complete until a year of delicate

political maneuvering established Michael Corleone as the most powerful Family chief in

the United States. For twelve months, Michael divided his time equally between his

headquarters at the Long Beach mall and his new home in Las Vegas. But at the end of

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."

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