“Does he know who you are?”

“He knows I have a son.”

“Are you hiding your money?” I asked, my disbelief obvious even to my own ears. My mother loved to live a level above everyone else. At least, I thought she did. “And hiding me?”

“Well, look at you.” She gestured her hand up and down. “You’re a behemoth in business. God knows you didn’t get that from your father. I’m happy to take credit. But I think you could perhaps … intimidate an ordinary man. Not that I’m saying Giuseppe is ordinary. Not in that way. He’s remarkable in so many ways …”

My mother trailed off under my scrutiny.

I pulled down my sunglasses to really study her. “Are you blushing?” I asked.

“Nonsense!” She tossed her napkin at me. “I don’t blush.”

“You are.” I laughed.

“You’re laughing. That’s good, no? I expected you to be more protective.”

“I am protective. I’m still going to have him investigated.” I tossed a remaining piece of cucumber that was on the edge of my plate into my mouth.

“Okay.”

“I was joking. I trust your judgment.”

“I don’t. Not in matters of the heart. Not after your father.” She looked back out to sea.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. That was the thing, wasn’t it? One could have all the good judgment and intuition in the world, and be successful in business, but those you chose to give your heart to, who had power to hurt you the most, that was where the Pascale family seemed to have a blind spot.

I was aware of all the dark spaces in my heart. Never more than right now. They’d grown comfortable, those dark spaces. But I suddenly realized, over the last couple of weeks, they’d become like grit in the cracks, broken and irritating. And I definitely wanted to brush them out of the way and let the light in. Looking at my mother, noticing the glow I’d missed when I arrived today, it looked as though she was living again.

I wondered how that felt.

I wondered if I’d ever feel brave enough to try it.

Dauphine came running across the grass to the stone patio, Josie trailing behind her. She’d been smiling at something Dauphine said, but it slipped a bit on seeing me. She refocused on my mother instead. God, why did I feel so shitty about her?

“You have a beautiful home,” Josephine addressed my mother. “Belle Epoque Architecture?”

“That’s right. Built in the 1880s. You like history?”

“I do. And architecture, of course.”

“Josie is an architect!” Dauphine said with pride.

My mother looked at me, her eyebrows raised again before turning back to our visitor. “My goodness! My son didn’t tell me.”