Suddenly, the phone in the hotel room buzzed. Estelle got up slowly, rolling her shoulders back. Traveling had taken a real toll on her.
“Estelle Coleman?” The hotel concierge said her name with a wonderful Italian accent that, she now understood, was similar to Albert’s. She hadn’t thought he was Italian before, maybe because he’d been in the United States for too long. Maybe he’d become too Americanized.
“There’s someone here to see you,” the concierge stated.
Estelle’s heart jumped into her throat. Before the concierge could fill in the blanks, she said, “I’ll be right down.” She didn’t want Albert to see her like this. She wanted to control when she saw him and how she looked.
Still, when she’d told him where her hotel was and how long she was staying in Rome, a part of her had hoped that he’d come find her, that he’d come tell her he couldn’t live without her. Whatever that meant, in their later years.
Estelle fixed her lipstick, changed into a light sundress and a pair of sandals, grabbed her purse, and took the elevator to the lobby. She wondered who the concierge thought Albert was to Estelle, if he thought Estelle was too old to be dating. She wondered if Albert was irritated that she hadn’t invited him up to her room immediately.
She wasn’t that kind of girl! She thought, then smiled.
But when the elevator doors opened to the lobby, Estelle froze with shock. There, standing next to the front desk, jittery and bug-eyed, was her granddaughter. It was Rachelle.
Estelle nearly melted. “Rachelle?”
Rachelle bolted across the lobby and leaped into Estelle’s arms. There was such energy and such heartbreak within her that Estelle nearly fell. Rachelle burst into tears, then pressed her face into Estelle’s neck. When Rachelle had been a little girl, Estelle had seen her so infrequently, as Sam hadn’t been pleasedwith Roland and Estelle. She wondered if this was how Rachelle had been back then. Devastation could be a form of time travel.
Estelle pressed the button that took them back to her hotel room. Her mind raced, searching for answers. How had Rachelle found her? Had she seen her photograph at the bookstore and inquired inside? Could it really be that easy?
Inside the hotel room, Rachelle collapsed on the sofa and sniffed.
“My darling,” Estelle said, fixing Rachelle’s hair with the flat of her hand. She realized that Rachelle was wearing a beautiful silk dress, something far nicer than anything she’d owned back in Nantucket. She wondered if it was a present from Rachelle’s new family. “My darling, how did you find me?”
Rachelle burrowed her face in her hands. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I don’t understand how you’re here. I don’t understand how you know Tio.”
As Rachelle continued to cry, Estelle went to the mini-fridge to procure a bottle of something. She found white wine and green olives and bread, which she arranged in glasses and on a little golden plate. Estelle continued to try to glean information from Rachelle by vision alone, and realized that the girl was skinnier than she’d been back in Nantucket. She’d probably been dieting for the wedding and making herself crazy. Her heart ached for her.
After that, Estelle removed her sundress and put on a big T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. Rachelle laughed, then jumped up to unzip her silk dress as well. Soon, she was wearing Estelle’s massive dark green sweatshirt, cuddled under one of the hotel blankets.
Estelle marveled that although she was seventy-three and Rachelle was thirty, it was as though they were at a sleepover, preparing to tell one another secrets. To unburden their souls.
“Oh, Grandma. I don’t know what to do,” Rachelle said finally.
“Tell me everything,” Estelle urged her.
Slowly, Rachelle removed a crumpled-up envelope from her purse, spreading it out to reveal a letter from Darcy. “Darcy wrote me,” she said. “I can’t believe Remy’s sick. I’ve been so sick to my stomach about it.”
Estelle hated to be reminded of it, too. She didn’t want it to become a normal thing. “They’re doing everything they can, sweetie,” she said. “They’ve got the best doctors talking about implantations and all kinds of things. I think the next time you see them, Remy will be able to hear everything.” She didn’t actually know that, but it sounded nice to say.
Rachelle went quiet.
“What were you saying about someone called Tio?” Estelle asked, remembering Rachelle’s frantic words.
“Tio. My fiancé’s great-uncle Alberto, who just moved back from New York,” Rachelle said. “I confronted him about, oh, so many other things. I was sure that he was after me. That he was trying to make a mockery of me and my dreams and everything I built. But then, he had one of your books! And it was signed to him from you! It was like…” She trailed off. “Like I was living in an awful dream. But he told me where you were staying. I jumped in a taxi and came all the way here as soon as I could.”
It was a sensational story. Estelle rubbed Rachelle’s back. So the awful family that Albert had been talking about last night was one and the same with Rachelle’s soon-to-be in-laws. That wasn’t a good sign. She wondered if Rachelle knew how little money they had left. She guessed they flaunted their wealth, despite not having much. There were ways to flaunt and flaunt that didn’t exactly mean you still had it.
Estelle wanted to order Rachelle not to marry that man. But she knew love was complicated.
Rachelle explained what she knew: that her restaurant had burned down during its soft opening, that she’d seen Tio Alberto coming out of it with the landlord. “It’s his, now! And it makes me so mad, because I decided not to ask Riccardo’s family for help with the restaurant. That, and they basically told me that I shouldn’t own my own restaurant. They told me that if I was going to marry into their family, I had to be a specific type of woman.”
Estelle took a sharp breath. “They didn’t!”
Rachelle nodded furiously. It was clear that this was the first time anyone had echoed her own disbelief. “My friends think I should ignore it and be happy and just become his wife and, yeah. Maybe they’re right? I’ve never lived like this. And it’s nice, I guess. It is.”
Estelle felt the emptiness behind her granddaughter’s words. “You think they burned the restaurant down to force you to calm down?”
