Can he see through my subterfuge? Does he realize I’m trying to persuade him that Matteo can live a perfectly happy life without ever seeing his mother again?
Why is it harder to lie to a dead man than to oneself?
“Donna wrote me,” I blurt out. “She’s begging for a visit. I guess it’s been rough despite the time and the distance. Apparently, her wound won’t heal. She claims it’s been getting worse every day, and especially since she had a baby with her new husband. Matteo is all she can think about.”
But it’s her signature on the papers. She took the deal. She left. I owe her nothing. She’s the reason Stephen is dead.
I tilt my head toward Margot. “He’d never want her to see Matteo again, would he? I can’t think of one reason why he would.”
“I can.”
“What is it?”
She takes a moment, her gaze on Stephen’s plaque, to form an answer. “Matteo may have four surrogate moms, but he knows that his real mother is alive and that she never comes to visit. He can’t help feeling rejected.”
“Is that what he told you? When? He’s never told me anything like that!”
“He hasn’t told me those things, as such,” she says. “But he’s been asking questions about Donna. He’s trying to understand why she left him.”
She looks me in the eye.
I hold her gaze before turning to the plaque. “I’ll write back that she can have video calls and then come visit him.”
I’m weeping like a little child before I’ve finished my sentence. The tears are abundant and salty as they flow down my face. For the first time since that fateful day, I don’t fight them.
After a while, the last natural light fades away, and the air grows colder, both around me and inside. I glance at Dad’s plaque, but I’m too emotionally drained to talk to him now. Or maybe I’m still too mad at him. Whatever the reason, I’m not feeling the kind of connection I felt with Stephen.
Maybe next time.
“We should go,” I say to Margot.
With one last look at Stephen’s plaque, I say, “See you around!”
I turn my back to the vault, and we head back to the parking lot. I realize that, despite the fatigue, my spirits are higher. I feel lighter than before, lighter than I’ve felt in two and a half years.
No wonder Mom and Celeste come here so often!I search my heart but discern no trace of sadness or regret. Instead, it’s brimming with several positive emotions.
Peace is one, just like everyone had told me I’d experience.
Hope, unexpectedly, is another one.
And then, there’s the biggest, overpowering one, the one that makes me wrap an arm around Margot’s shoulders and pull her close.
Love.
EPILOGUE
MARGOT
Jonas pulls up to Royal Riviera, and the thrill I’ve been struggling to keep a lid on all day boils over. I squeal. Judging by the excited clapping from the back seat, Matteo is just as eager as I am.
Unlike the d’Alenq boys, I’ve never been here before, and the vintage charm of the place takes my breath away. The studio is a pastel stuccoed building that looks like a tiered wedding cake shimmering in the sun. Green lawns and shady alleys boasting cypress and palm trees, fill in the space between the buildings. A light breeze carries the salty smell from the sea and the sound of the distant rustle of waves licking the shore. It’s like someone lifted a chunk of Miami’s South Beach and dropped it on the Côte d’Azur.
Jonas, Matteo and I step out of the car.
Ricardo, my recently hired assistant, comes out to the parking lot. We greet each other. He’s an affable man in his mid-twenties with a BA in art production management and three years of professional experience under his belt. I’m a more seasoned theater person, but a rookie manager. Having worked with him remotely for a week now, I already know I’ll be relying on his expertise quite a bit over the coming months. By July I hope to be able to bring my own expertise to the table. I’ll learn by doing, naturally, but I’ve also enrolled in two training programs. The first one is basic accounting and business management. I’ll attend live in Pombrio. The second one, in production management for film, I’ll be taking online. Both kick off in early April and run through June.
The next few months are going to be busy, but I do love a challenge.
