“Life’s not over yet. You can still visit her anytime.”
“But the winery belongs to Fiona now. I’d feel awkward.”
“I understand. That’s going to be strange.” Ruth paused. “But I have to say, it was shocking to see how much Fiona looked like a female version of your dad when he was younger. And I saw a resemblance to you too. You could be sisters. Wait a second. You already are.”
Sloane chuckled.
“So what’s she like?” Ruth asked. “We had to leave right after the meeting, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. And Mum was in shock over what your dad did. She would have preferred that he leave the business to her and me, if not you and Connor. Then at least it would have remained in the family.”
“Fiona is family, though,” Sloane reminded her. “And I’d describe her as very down to earth. Not materialistic. I talked to her earlier today, and she was surprisingly relaxed about the situation with Connor. She was basically saying, Whatever will be will be. ”
“Wow.”
Sloane sighed. “I wish I could be more like her, considering what’s going on with Alan. I didn’t tell you about the picture he sent to Chloe last night.”
Sloane relayed the story, and naturally, Ruth was shocked. “My God. And you signed a prenup. What are you going to do?”
Sloane reached the end of the path and approached the back of her father’s villa. The sight of it caused an intense feeling of loss in her, as if everything familiar and steady in her world was falling away, like a giant sinkhole beneath her feet.
“I’m not sure yet,” she replied. “But I do know one thing. I don’t want to have any more regrets, so I guess I’m going to have to do some serious soul-searching.”
CHAPTER 21
FIONA
I was on my way to Anton’s studio when I passed his bedroom door and heard a woman crying from inside. The door was ajar, so I listened for a few seconds before I knocked gently. “Hello? Sofia, is that you? Is everything all right?”
She sniffled and said, “Go away.”
I hesitated in the corridor. “Are you sure? Maybe you’d like to talk?”
She offered no response, so I pushed the door open a little and peered inside.
Wearing a clingy white dress and holding a balled-up tissue in her hand, she sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were smeared with black mascara, and the room was a disaster. It looked as if a high-fashion bomb had just exploded.
“Hey there,” I gently said. “What’s going on?”
Sofia shuddered as she inhaled and waved a hand in front of her face. “I don’t want to talk about it. You would not understand.”
I sauntered to an upholstered chair and sat down, elbows on knees. “Maybe I would.”
She dabbed at the inky wetness under her eyes and gave me an icy stare. “I know why you’re here. To tell me to leave.”
I swallowed uneasily, because that was indeed at the top of my to-do list for the day.
Sofia blew her nose into the tissue. “You don’t have to say it. I’ll spare you the trouble. I’ve already started packing my things.”
Glancing around at the clothes, shoes, and scarves strewn about the room, I thought packing wasn’t quite the right word for whatever was happening there. “Do you need any help? I’d be happy to—”
“No. You should go, Fiona, because I know you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Sì , you do. Everyone in this family hates me. Kate . . . Connor and Sloane . . .”
I bowed my head. “I won’t lie, Sofia. They probably do, but I’m pretty sure they hate me even more.”
That caused her to lift her watery gaze. “Maybe that is true.”
A hot afternoon breeze blew in through the open window, and I fanned myself with my hand. “Do you have somewhere to go after this?” I asked.
Sofia stood and lifted a suitcase onto the bed. “I have a friend in Florence. She’s offered to let me stay with her until I find a place of my own. I’ll be okay. Anton was very generous. He gave me presents and enough money to last a little while.” She moved to the wardrobe, gathered up a bundle of clothes, and laid them into the suitcase with the hangers still attached.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” I said.
“I don’t mind.” She returned to the wardrobe to fetch another armload of clothes.
“Did Anton ever speak to you about my mother? Because I have no idea what happened between them all those years ago, and no one around here seems to know anything.”