chapter 9
Charlotte hadn’t seen Sloane since Christmas of the year before. Julian had been in the Netherlands on an important shoot—an
assignment commissioned by a magazine or TV network—when Sloane and Ben had come for the holidays. Charlotte had tried to
spend time with her that week, but they’d barely seen each other. It’d been strained and awkward even when they did get together,
setting the foundation for their falling-out that March over a potential girls’ trip.
That Christmas, Sloane had invited Charlotte and Cliff to the neighborhood party her mother was putting on, but Cliff wouldn’t
go. In his defense, he’d played two basketball games that week. In the last one he’d been fouled hard and knocked to the deck,
which had left him scraped and bruised. Yet he’d managed to attend all his friends’ Christmas parties that season. He just
hadn’t been interested in what he considered a long evening spent tolerating people who were only eager to talk to him because
he was a professional athlete. He said they’d pester him for signed jerseys or sneakers or Lakers tickets.
Charlotte had never believed those at the party would ask for anything.
But she’d known they’d be eager to get to know him, which meant he’d have to be “on” all night, smiling, talking and laughing with strangers he didn’t care to know in the first place.
He found that unpleasant and taxing, so she hadn’t pushed him too hard.
Instead, she’d told him she’d go on her own and make up an excuse for him.
He’d said that would be fine, but then he’d called her only an hour after she arrived, complaining of a headache and asking her to go the drugstore and bring him some ibuprofen.
He could’ve had it delivered. He knew she was trying to spend time with old friends. But he always turned to her to make him
feel better, no matter what was wrong. He’d just wanted her to be with him. It was one of those rare nights when he didn’t
have anyone else to entertain him, and he hated to be alone.
Or it was possible, she supposed, that Sloane’s interpretation was the correct one, and he’d wanted to force her to choose
between them.
To make up for it, she’d asked Sloane to lunch the next day, but then Cliff said he’d already invited her to play tennis with
him and his friends. He loved that she was a good player—she’d spent a lot of time at the club while her mother was coaching—and
enjoyed having her help him win. They could beat almost any other couple, and he found that especially fun if they were playing
his teammates.
In an effort to try to please everyone, she’d invited Sloane to join them at the club instead, and she’d agreed. But once
Sloane arrived, Cliff had completely ignored her. Charlotte had once again felt torn between them as she struggled to make
up for how Cliff was behaving.
Sloane had ended up leaving the club early, and later that night they’d had a heated phone call about Cliff, part of which
he’d overheard. He’d said her best friend had no right to talk shit about him, and yet Charlotte could see that Sloane had
a point. It wasn’t what Cliff had said or done. It was what he hadn’t done. But sins of omission were more difficult to hold him accountable for because he refused to understand why anyone would
have a problem with him.
“She’s just trying to make trouble,” he’d said, over and over again.
At least she wouldn’t have to face that anymore, Charlotte told herself as she spotted Sloane waiting for her and Julian beyond
customs.
As soon as Sloane spotted them in the crowd, she hurried toward them. “There you are!”
“I’m sorry about the girls’ trip, how Cliff behaved at the tennis club at Christmas, what he did when I was at your mother’s
party and . . . all of it,” Charlotte said as they embraced.
“Forget it,” Sloane responded. “He demanded far more than he should have from you.”
She’d been so dazzled and hopeful when they got married. He’d swept her off her feet, shown her only the best side of him—until
after they were married. “You’re lucky to have someone like Ben—he’s so thoughtful. I can’t believe he didn’t have a problem
with you coming to Italy for a whole month!”
Sloane started to say something, then stopped.
“What is it?” Charlotte asked.
“Nothing. I’m glad he was okay with it, too,” she said and gave her brother a hug. “What’s up with you?” she asked him. “How is it that the highly in demand, internationally acclaimed photographer is actually taking a month
off to hang with his lowly sister and her best friend?”
“I guess I finally have my priorities straight,” he said with a flash of his perfect white teeth.
“Those braces you had in high school really served you well,” Charlotte said, noticing how captivating his smile had become.
He laughed. “I didn’t have much to recommend me back then.”
“You’ve always had those eyes,” she blurted before she could stop herself—and immediately wished she could snatch the words back. She didn’t generally compliment him like that, so when he looked at her in surprise, she felt her face heat.
“I’m flattered,” he said with a wry grin.
Sloane didn’t seem to pick up on how awkward the moment had become. Fortunately, she brushed right over it. “Maybe he’ll find
a beautiful Italian woman and fall in love while we’re here,” she said.
“Maybe,” Charlotte mumbled and pretended to be preoccupied with gathering up her belongings. She had a hold on her luggage
when Julian insisted she trade her big suitcase for his. Hers had a wonky wheel that made it hard to pull, which shouldn’t
have been the situation considering how much that case had cost. With all the miles his had logged, it looked like it’d been
to hell and back, and yet it worked perfectly.
“Where’s the locker you texted us about?” he asked.
Sloane gestured for them to follow her. “This way.”
“You’re not going to respond to my Italian-woman comment?” his sister teased as they started off.
He shot her a sideways glance. “The only thing I’m looking for is food. Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you nervous?” Sloane asked.
“To meet my half sister? A little,” Charlotte responded while they shared a pizza that was every bit as good as it had been
billed. They’d ordered the diavola, similar to pepperoni but made with spicy salami, which gave it even more flavor.
“She must be nervous, too,” Julian pointed out as he took a sip of the cabernet sauvignon they’d ordered to go with their
first Italian meal.
Charlotte hadn’t told them about Heidelman’s warning—that Lilly could be difficult.
She could see why he’d feel the need to prepare her, and yet she almost wished he hadn’t said anything.
She needed to approach the situation with an open mind.
Otherwise, she was afraid she’d allow herself to use that as an excuse to head home without her sister, when she was really just terrified of the responsibility.
“How can she not be nervous? I can’t imagine being twelve years old and losing my only caregiver. ”
“I wonder if she knew you existed before Sabrina died, or if having a sibling came as a surprise to her, too,” Sloane said.
Charlotte swirled what little wine she had left in her glass as she considered the question. “I don’t know. Heidelman didn’t
share a lot of information. Mostly just the logistics on how to reach Luca Versetti, so we can meet.”
“Can Heidelman tell us where her father might be?” Julian asked.
“No one even knows who he is,” Charlotte said.
“Maybe we should hire a private investigator,” Sloane suggested. “If we can find him, he might want to be part of her life.”
Charlotte didn’t believe the chances of locating him were very high. “Heidelman used a private investigator to find me,” she told them. “He must’ve tried to find Lilly’s father, too. Maybe there wasn’t enough to go on. Or he’s in prison.”
“Or dead,” Sloane said. “Where was Sabrina living before she came to Italy?”
Julian had asked many of the same questions on the plane. Problem was, Charlotte had no answers. “I’d love to know all this,
but I have very little information.”
Sloane leaned back as the waitress came to take away the empty plates and ask if they’d like anything else. Sloane immediately
said no, but Charlotte had spotted tiramisu on the menu. She ordered some for dessert and so did Julian.
“Whoa, you don’t generally like sweets,” Sloane said to her brother. “What happened to being a health nut?”
He shrugged as the waitress left. “Might as well eat, drink and be merry . . .”
“For tomorrow we die?” she joked, finishing the biblical reference. “I hope not.”
“You never know.” He lifted his glass of wine toward her as if in a toast. “Either way, we’re on vacation, so it’s time to
cut loose.”
“I can go along with that.” Sloane clinked her glass against his before turning back to Charlotte. “There are so many ramifications
to what you’ve learned.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure what, specifically, she was referring to. “Like . . .”
“You could have several other siblings! Getting into contact with Lilly could open up a lot of . . . issues.”
Charlotte waved her off. “Don’t start pointing out all the possibilities quite yet. First let me adjust to what I’m facing
now.”
Sloane frowned. “You haven’t submitted to one of those ancestry sites, have you?”
“I did, actually. Just a couple of days ago. I thought it might help me find other relatives—maybe someone it will be important
for Lilly to find or know.”
“When will you get the results?” Julian asked.
“In four to six weeks.”
“So not long after we get back,” Sloane mused.
“I wish it was sooner,” Charlotte said.
Sloane drained her glass. “I can see why.”
A ding signaled that Charlotte had received a text message. She was surprised because she knew her folks would be asleep back
in California. Even Cliff would be asleep at four in the morning.
But it wasn’t someone from America. This person lived in Italy.
This is Luca Versetti. You coming to Italy?