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The Godfather
by Vicky S
 Emma's desire to have Kenton as George's godfather inspired this contribution to the Fantasy Archers topic of .
The sun shone brightly on the gathering of friends, family and business acquaintances. The great, the good and the not so good of Borchester society were gathered in the securely-gated family enclave of Brookfield. The adults stood in small nervous groups, clutching cups of tea, glancing around them making the most of this rare opportunity to view the Family at home. Among them, shouting and laughing, small children chased between adult legs, snatching handfuls of cheese sandwiches and pizza as they passed the constantly replenished trestle tables. From the open kitchen doors came laughter and the chatter of women's voices as they sliced and buttered tea cakes and stirred casseroles under the close supervision of the respected matriarch Senora Corlearcho.
Slightly apart from the rest, in the shade of a hastily erected pergola, a group of men sat awkwardly on village hall chairs. They appeared unaccustomed to inactivity and were sweating uncomfortably in their best clothes, their sharp eyes darting watchfully over the crowds. As small children ran too close they were gently but firmly shooed away. The men sipped appreciatively at glasses filled with golden cider, sent as a goodwill gift to the Corlearcho family from the Grundi family, but beneath their suits their muscles were tensed and ready to respond.
In the centre of the group a large figure sat smiling and nodding benignly as he listened to the family banter around him. At first glance there was nothing to distinguish him from the other men around him, but a careful observer would note the air of calm and dignity he exuded, and the natural deference accorded to him by the others. This was a leader among men: KenDon Corlearcho, oldest son and, since the imprisonment of his father Philippo on trumped up tax evasion charges, head of the Corlearcho family empire.
A shabby figure, baseball cap clutched in his hands, made his way towards the group. Several capos stepped forwards, but KenDon nodded and the inner circle parted reluctantly. As he reached the seated figure the newcomer bent and seized Corlearcho's hand, tears rose in his eyes and he could barely speak. KenDon smiled, and took pity on the new arrival.
"My good friend, " KenDon spoke graciously, but indistinctly, his mouth full of Victoria sponge, "Thank you for coming to the party."
"KenDon," began the newcomer, but with a wave of his hand KenDon dismissed his thanks.
"Cliveo, my friend. Do you think that I could allow this day of all days, the Christening day of my godson Georgio, your nephew, to pass without you? Don't forget Cliveo, you are almost Family now."
He took a slice of battenburg and smiled approvingly as Cliveo bent forward and whispered in his ear. KenDon nodded and beckoned one of the capos forward.
"Nigello, find food and drink for Cliveo, take him to the kitchen to meet his new nephew, and tomorrow, sort out some work for him on the estate. He is one of us now.
Nigello put his arm around Cliveo's thin shoulders and led him towards the kitchen.
"KenDon," Jazzino, the most trusted capo spoke quietly. "You asked me to remind you that your brother Davidos has asked for a private interview."
KenDon sighed heavily and pulled his weighty body from the chair. Pushing another slice of cake, limon drizzoli, into his mouth, he walked slowly towards the house. This was the part of the day he had dreaded most. By tradition, no godfather could refuse a request on his godson's Christening day, and this Christening, which saw the uneasy unification of the Borchester Families of Archereo and Grundi, would bring difficult requests. KenDon had an uncomfortable feeling that he already knew what Davidos would ask.
After the bright sunshine the sitting room was dark, and it took KenDon a few moments to realise that his brother and his wife were both waiting on the sofa to see him. KenDon frowned. This was not the place for a woman, and besides he noticed that Ruthia was clutching a plate on her knee. Ruthia's infamous flapjacks. KenDon felt his belly flinch at the thought.
Ruthia pushed open the swing door to the kitchen, her hands still clutched tightly around the plate of flapjacks. Perhaps KenDon was right, a woman's place was in the kitchen. Senora Corlearcho took the plate from her hands, "Emmelina, look, these are what I was telling you about, let Giorgio chew on one and that tooth will be through in no time."
Ruthia took a wooden spoon from the table and began to stir a casserole thoughtfully. Her mother-in-law smiled triumphantly to herself, before turning sharply to her youngest daughter, the dowdy down-at-heel Elizabieta, "Hurry, take this plate of scones through to the sitting room, your brothers have important matters to discuss."
***
As Davidos began to speak, KenDon sat listening attentively, his only movement the steady rhythm of his jowls as he chewed through the scones.
Davidos' voice stumbled as he told the humiliating story: low yields, ultimatums from the dairy, plate meters, double tubing, threats and tantrums. Eventually his voice petered out, and for the first time he managed to look his older brother in the eye.
"Please, KenDon, help us, help us, we just don't see a way out," he pleaded.
For a moment KenDon sat, impassively silent. Then he reached for the last scone, and spoke.
"This man, this ... Sam." His muffled voice was disdainful. "He has shown you no respect. He has shown the Family no respect. He has shown me no respect. That is not the way we are accustomed to do things around here. He needs to be taught a lesson. A lesson he will not forget. Leave it with me. This matter is no longer your concern."
Davidos wiped the sweat from his forehead. He felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The brothers stood and hugged awkwardly.
As the door closed behind Davidos, KenDon swung his bulky body around to face Jazzino.
"Well, my friend. Who do you suggest we use?"
Jazzino thought for a moment. This was an important decision. For such a delicate Family matter, care must be taken in the execution of the task.
"Maurizio?" he suggested "We have used him before, he is discreet."
The large man nodded in agreement. A good choice. Maurizio Hortoni, although not of the Family, had proved himself loyal and trustworthy in the past. A strange and isolated figure, never separated from the battered leather case that held the well-used tools of his bloody trade. KenDon remembered an out-of-character drunken night when Hortoni had opened the case and displayed the sharp implements, lovingly describing each specific purpose as he stroked the gleaming blades ...
"And as back-up " continued Jazzino, breaking into KenDon's reverie, "young Tomasino. He is Family, he has made a good start with the salami business and it is time he made his bones."
KenDon nodded his approval at the choice.
"Make the arrangements," he commanded.
He glanced at the clock. It was nearly time for the arrival of the guests of honour, the Grundis, but before that he had one more family matter to attend to.
The kitchen was a hive of industry. KenDon acknowledged the hugs and smiles as he passed through, but his eyes were fixed on a silent and subdued figure sitting beside the Aga, mindlessly toasting teacakes. Shuliana, his favourite sister, who had refused all family advice and made an unfortunate series of marriages. She and her present husband had insisted on working independently outside the Family and were now facing ruin and disgrace.
He touched her lightly on her arm. She started and looked towards him, her eyes lighting up eagerly. He smiled reassuringly.
"It is done." He spoke softly.
"Are you sure ...?" she began.
KenDon raised a finger roll to his lips.
"We have made them an offer, a good offer."
Shula frowned "But, they might still turn it down, and then what would happen, if they claim negligence."
"Believe me. They will not turn it down," KenDon smiled. "You might say, it is an offer they cannot refuse."
Shuliana looked deeply into her brother's eyes. For a moment there was something there that made her shudder, but the moment passed, and all she saw was her beloved KenDon smiling down on her.
"Come," he said, "I need you and Mamma beside me to greet our guests."
Senora Corlearcho bustled forward, removing her apron and smoothing back her tousled hair. This was her moment; today she would be seen by all with her son, KenDon Corlearcho. The struggles and humiliations of the past would be forgotten. Today, when the powerful Grundis came to her house they would know that the Corlearchos were a family to be reckoned with.
They left the kitchen arm-in-arm and walked out together into the bright sunlight.
More parodies - from Agatha Christie to Damon Runyon
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