“She went home for lunch,” Mrs. Dellucci replied, still kneading.
Recognizing a well-defined cold shoulder from the woman, Sloane felt like a heel because she knew she deserved it, so she decided to take a walk, pick some wildflowers, and visit Maria at the cozy little villa where she lived. How long had it been since Sloane had seen it? She hoped it wasn’t too late. She hoped that Maria would be willing to visit with her, one last time before she left.
Twenty minutes later, she caught a whiff of roses just before the villa came into view. Cicadas were buzzing in the forest, and the sun was warm on Sloane’s cheeks as she emerged from the path to the gravel lane, then made her way across the garden and up the stone steps to the front door.
Suddenly nervous and wondering if this was a fool’s errand, she hesitated before rapping the brass door knocker. Perhaps Maria would give her the cold shoulder as well, and Sloane would be forced to skulk away in shame and embarrassment, onward to a life full of even more regrets.
The door opened, and Sloane shook herself out of her doldrums. She threw on a bright smile for Maria, who stared at her with surprise. “Hi, Maria. I hope I’m not catching you at an awkward time. I had a few minutes to myself this afternoon and thought I’d pop by and bring you some fresh flowers.”
Maria regarded her suspiciously for a few seconds, then reached out to take hold of the bouquet. “What a surprise. They’re beautiful, Sloane. How thoughtful of you. Would you like to come in?”
Sloane smiled gratefully and entered the foyer, which brought on yet another rushing cascade of nostalgia. How many times had Sloane run up and down those stairs when her father had something to do in the office? Her mother often said that Maria was a dutiful babysitter who never refused an opportunity to look after them. Comments like that, however, always came on the heels of a criticism about their father.
Sloane followed Maria into the kitchen, where Maria found a vase for the flowers, filled it with water, and set it on the antique hutch where she displayed her dishes.
“How are your children getting along?” Maria asked as she arranged the flowers just so. “I suppose they’re missing their friends.”
“Not as much as you would think,” Sloane replied as she wandered around the kitchen, looking at everything. “I think they’re secretly enjoying this time away from all the social activity that doesn’t seem to let up, even for a ten-year-old. You’d be surprised at the daily dramas.”
“These are different times,” Maria replied with understanding. “I don’t envy parents today. Would you like an espresso?”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
Maria set about preparing it, and Sloane took a seat at the table.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” Sloane said.
“You came to bring me flowers,” Maria cheerfully replied.
“Yes, but I came for another reason as well.” Sloane took a deep breath to try and get this right, to say the things she needed to say for her own emotional well-being in the future. “The kids and I will be leaving in the next few days, and I feel badly that you and I didn’t get a chance to catch up.”
Maria said nothing as she prepared the coffee. Sloane soldiered on.
“I wanted to tell you, Maria, that I have very fond memories of you. You made a difference in my life back then, when my parents weren’t exactly what I would call happy to be together. But you kept Connor and me busy with fun things to do, and I enjoyed the time we spent together. I just wanted you to know that.”
Maria carried two small espresso cups on saucers to the table. “I enjoyed spending time with you too. I missed you when you stayed away. So did your father.”
Sloane spooned some sugar into her cup. “Yes, that’s obvious to me now, and I feel badly about that too. I think when you’re young, you believe your parents will always be there, and well . . .” She paused. “I think Connor and I were more selfish than most children, and Mom didn’t try to steer us another way. I think she preferred that we weren’t close to Dad. She was bitter toward him, and she encouraged us to do what we wanted, which was to stay in LA, because she knew it would hurt him.” Sloane suddenly recognized her mother’s motivations because she was paddling in those same waters herself, feeling angry toward Alan and wanting to cut him out of her life completely and take her children with her.
“It colored how we felt about Dad,” Sloane continued, “and I don’t think we had a fair perception of him.”