38. Mia
Chapter thirty-eight
Mia
Chalet Stellare looks like a modern take on an old log-cabin styled ski-resort.
“For some reason, I was expecting it to look more like an Italian villa than a log cabin,” Will says as we walk in.
The high roof is exposed timber, all angles, with huge glass windows and a polished wooden floor, almost entirely covered in fluffy white rugs. It must be an absolute nightmare to keep clean.
We head for reception, where Alessandro, a short guy with a well-trimmed dark beard flecked with grey greets us. He’s older than us, late fifties, perhaps, and has a permanent crease between his eyebrows. He’s wearing brown woolen pants, a denim button down shirt, and a brown suede jacket. I’m expecting him to be gruff based on his frown, so I’m shocked when he rounds the corner of the desk to fold me, then Will, up in a huge bear hug. I hide my surprise.
He hands us our keys, arranges for someone to take our bags up, then ushers us into the bar area.
“Coffee will come, I assume you drink coffee?” Alessandro says, big smile on his face. He barely pauses for long enough for us to nod before launching into a monologue on the structure of the staff at the hotel. I nod, pulling my notebook out of my handbag.
The coffee arrives and thankfully, we are treated to a short moment of quiet while Alessandro adds two sugars, no milk to his coffee, and stirs it vigorously.
He lowers his voice. “Mia, I feel like I have to warn you, my staff here are, shall I say, suspicious about you coming here. They loved Craig, and early on there were those unfortunate rumors that you—his long-lost sister he had been searching for—had something to do with his accident. We shut them down quickly, but you know how people are.”
“Sorry,” I say, not believing what I’m hearing. “They think I killed Craig?”
“I don’t think it’s that serious. I think they just think you’re representative of the worst times in his life.” I hope I managed to hide the pain that no doubt flashed across my face. People think I have something to do with my own brother’s death? I didn't even know he existed when he got injured.
I fiddle with my pen, looking anywhere but at Alessandro. “Right, well that’s a relief.” I can’t even start to think about how I’m going to pull the staff back to my side. Not that there are sides here, I remind myself. But maybe what Alessandro told me explains some of the behavior I’ve seen at other resorts. Sure, people are polite to my face, but I can tell their starting point is suspicion and distrust. I haven't blamed anyone for that; I put it down to them being worried about another Bryce, and the change a new manager will bring, but maybe there’s more to it.
“I think they all know it’s not true.” Alessandro eyes me cautiously. “Craig understood from a young age that he was an only child. It wasn’t until his mum—your mum, Shelly—passed away about two years ago that he first suspected that they may have had another child.”
“How did he find out? Where did the suspicion come from?” I feel around for Will’s hand under the table. I need his support right now. He rubs my leg soothingly, and my shoulders relax as he touches. It’s amazing how his presence can have that impact on me.
“Simon wrote the obituary, and asked Craig to look over it before it was published. There was a line in there about ‘loving mother of two’ or something similar. Craig just corrected it, didn’t think much of it, but obviously mentioned it to a few of his friends, myself included.”
I frown. Surely there must have been other instances to raise Craig’s suspicions than what amounted to a typo from a grieving husband. I glance at Will, wondering whether he is thinking the same thing. He gives me a reassuring hand squeeze. I say as much to Alessandro, who continues.
“When Simon got sick, they spent a lot of time together at the house, tidying things up. Craig found some bills from a hospital visit to a women’s clinic during the nineties, while he was away for school.” Alessandro pauses, sipping his water. He smooths a wrinkle on his trousers.
“You may not know, but Craig didn’t want to go to boarding school. He later suspected he was sent away for that year.”
Have I put two and two together correctly? The time Craig had been sent away to boarding school was when his mother—my birth mother—gave birth to me?
“Obviously, Craig hadn’t been raised with a sibling, and Shelly and Simon had always been quite adamant that they wanted one child. They spent a lot of time doting on Craig and had been vocal about enjoying their retirement.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. I hadn’t come here today expecting to find out the truth of my adoption, but is this it? This is all it was? They only wanted one child, and that’s why they adopted me out?
“You okay?” Will leans forward and murmurs in my ear.
I nod. “Sorry. This is just a lot to learn. Please go on.” My mind is racing. Every single assumption I had had about my birth parents, the reason they adopted me out—it’s all wrong?
“They didn’t have Craig until they were in their late-thirties, so another pregnancy when Shelly was in her late-forties and Simon was over fifty? It would have put quite a dampener on their retirement plans.”
I can’t believe it. All this time, and I had assumed my parents had adopted me out because they couldn’t afford me, or couldn’t raise me in the way they wanted. Some other major life event. But no. They wanted to enjoy their one child—to give him a perfect life—and have the retirement of their dreams. It feels like there should be more somehow, but I guess life doesn’t always have neat and tidy endings.
Alessandro takes a long drink and looks across the dining room with a well-practiced, critical eye.
“Eventually, Craig found the right person who had worked here at the time, who confirmed there were strong suspicions in ‘91, ‘92 that Shelly was pregnant. Obviously, no baby ever materialized. Until you, of course,” he adds as an afterthought.
I press my lips together; sure the tension is clear on my face. What would my life have been like, if my birth parents hadn’t adopted me out? Maybe it would have been a life of luxury, but maybe I was exactly as lucky as I always thought I was. I ended up with my adoptive parents—my real parents. Maybe there is a gift in that still.
Alessandro clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts. He waits for permission to continue. I nod, urging him to go on.
He selects his words carefully. “Craig was very open with his thoughts and feelings and what he shared; some people probably considered him an over-sharer.” That’s consistent with what everyone else has said, but I've never figured out why.
He must have caught my quizzical look, because he goes on. “As for me, I always thought Craig was lonely. He grew up around adults, and he spent a lot of time out of school, and that’s difficult for a young child. My guess? He didn’t know how to deal with his feelings other than talking them out. He shared things that another person wouldn’t have shared, like this. We were the best friends he had.” His voice cracks slightly.
“So that’s why he seemed to tell everyone at the resorts everything that was going on in his life?” I prompt.
Alessandro nods. “I don’t think he had many other people to rely on. He started digging through Simon and Shelly’s stuff before Simon died, but afterwards when he saw Simon’s will…well, there was no going back.”
I sense Will next to me, almost burning with questions. Probably all the same questions I have, but can’t face asking today.
“In the last few months before he died, Craig has—had—been more and more obsessed with finding you. I think he thought if he found you, things would all fall into place. You—the idea of you—was a crutch to Craig. He poured his energy into the resorts, into caring for your mum, then your dad, and then into finding you. I think maybe some of the staff have got in their heads that you represent the pain and worst parts of what Craig experienced.” His look is careful; kind. “Not that I subscribe to that, of course, but I think you should understand the dynamics at play here.”
I fiddle with my watch. Craig, with all that money, and all the opportunities he had, hadn’t been a happy man. He poured his heart and soul into the resorts, and it sounds like he was always looking for something to fix. It breaks my heart to hear that even with all those resources, he was lost. I’m very grateful for my life.