Chapter 7 #2
Aida couldn’t believe her ears. “Excuse me?”
“The heavens. Don’t I look rather heavenly?” He waved a hand up and down his body.
“I was referring to the ‘stupid cow.’”
Mo gasped and put his hand over his mouth, mocking her. “Oh, did I offend you? I did, didn’t I? Oops!”
Aida turned away and walked down the little aisle of the chapel. She needed a moment to contain her anger. What an asshole. Why was it always the jerks that managed to get into the top positions at so many companies?
She stopped before the little altar, at the votive candle rack with a couple of flickering candles. Taking a match, she lit
a candle. Though she wasn’t religious, she sent a silent prayer to her parents, to look out for her. She didn’t like being
alone in the chapel with this strange, unpredictable man.
“That doesn’t do anything, you know.”
Aida steeled herself and turned back to Mo. “Why are you here?”
Mo plopped himself down in one of the chapel’s little pews. “Just checking up on you.”
“I didn’t realize that a basket of insults was the bonus for my work at MODA.”
Mo smirked. “Now, now, clearly I’ve upset you. Not my intention. Well, not today at least.”
Aida bit her lip to keep from saying something she might regret later.
He only stared back at her, head cocked as though waiting for her to be the one to speak. His mouth was curved in a little
half smile more disarming than Aida cared to admit.
“Why would you come all the way here just to check up on me?”
“I like to see our scholars in their natural environment.” He glanced around the chapel.
“I’m not an animal you are viewing on safari.”
Mo began to laugh, a rich, melodious laughter that Aida thought she might enjoy if she didn’t feel like the butt of his joke.
“Ahh, but, my dear, in some ways you are.”
Aida perched on the edge of the pew farthest away from him. “No one has told me what you do for MODA.”
He chuckled. “Quality assurance. I poke and nudge and make sure everyone is working.”
Why couldn’t he give her a straight answer? She tried a different tack. “How long have you been with the company?”
Mo leaned back and put his arms out along the backside of the pew. “From the beginning. I like to think the whole thing was
my idea, but my cofounders would likely disagree.”
Aida cursed to herself. Of course, he had to be a founder. She likely had no recourse if he continued to harass her. It was
no wonder Trista put up with him. “Does the M-O in MODA stand for Mo?”
“Yes, and no.”
Aida waited for an explanation, but he only looked at her with that same damn smirk on his face. He didn’t seem opposed to
her questioning, only amused.
“Who is Lady Ozie then? I thought she owned the company.”
Mo rolled his eyes. “Oh, Ozie. Is that what they told you? If there is anyone more dramatic than me, it would be her. But yes, in a fashion, she does. But then again, so do I. So do others.”
“Others?”
“Yes, others.”
Aida had to work to keep the frustration out of her expression. Mo seemed to enjoy making people squirm, but she refused to
give him the satisfaction. She decided she would do her job. Her innate sense of curiosity gave her a spectacular ability
to keep asking questions, and so she did.
“What is Lady Ozie like?”
Mo gave a shake of his head. “You don’t want to meet her. Really, you don’t. She’s just a bundle of misery, woe, depression,
suffering, anxiety, grief, and continual distress. I can barely stand to be around her myself.”
Suddenly Aida’s strange job made a little more sense to her. “Is that why I’m collecting happiness?”
For a moment, Aida thought she saw him tense up and she realized that somehow she had hit a nerve. But then he relaxed again,
and his smirk turned into a brilliant smile.
“Yes, Miss Reale, that’s exactly why. So tell me, how is that going for you?”
Aida looked around the beautiful little chapel, the interior aglow from the morning sunlight. A surge of emotion rose within
her. “It’s going well. I enjoy this work. Being able to see so many beautiful places makes me very happy.”
He snorted. “An unfortunate side effect, I assure you.”
Aida raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t be happy in my work?”
“You can be whatever you want. I don’t actually have control over that.”
“And yet, here you are, saying things that, in fact, do reduce my happiness.” Aida knew her words were bold if this man was actually one of her bosses, but she also had the sense
that the only way he would react favorably toward her was if she could take it and dish it back.
“Ahh,” Mo said, nodding his head, suddenly contrite. “Yes, I do forget myself. You are right. I should let you do your work. But you are so fun. I lose all restraint.”
Aida threw up her hands. She really couldn’t figure out this man at all. “Last time I saw you, you told me just how funless I was.”
Mo stood, waggling a finger at her. “See, this is why I like you. I take it back. You aren’t entirely funless.”
He turned and exited the chapel. “Arrivederci, Miss Reale,” he called out, not bothering to look back.
What the hell? She went to the door and looked out after him. He was not walking down the road like she expected, but rather he was cutting
a path straight through the fields of green spring wheat. Aida wondered where he was going. There were only endless fields
in front of him. He was walking north but the road went east. She briefly thought of calling out to him, then decided against
it. It was probably what he wanted, and she hardly needed more berating that morning. She ducked back into the chapel and
did her best to refocus her mind on her work, but she found herself in a quandary. How could she catalog the happiness of
this place now that the encounter with Mo had marred it for her?
Fortunately, the arrival of the photographer set her back on the path of her work. An hour later, having finished their documentation
inside the chapel, Aida and the photographer began packing up his equipment. The sheer amount of camera gear and accessories
he had lugged in was a testament to his dedication, and Aida felt it only right to help carry some bags out to his car. As
she hefted one of the heavy bags up and over her shoulder, the strap caught on her necklace with the little silver star pendant.
Before she could react, the necklace was pulled taut, and it snapped off her neck.
“Oh no,” Aida cried out, raising a hand to her neck where the pendant had rested just moments before. Only a small part of the original chain remained, still caught on the collar of her blouse, but the force had flung away the rest of the chain and pendant.
The photographer dropped his bag in horror. They both began anxiously scanning the ground near them, but it quickly became
apparent the pendant had flown far enough that it was likely hidden within the lush field nearby. Seeing their distress, Aida’s
driver came over to help search.
After several minutes of combing the area, the driver held up the remaining chain, now disconnected and empty. “Found this,”
he said, his voice apologetic. But there was still no sign of the pendant itself.
Aida tried to stay calm. The necklace held real sentimental value for her—Graham had given it to her when he asked her to
marry him. It had been a spontaneous decision on his part, having picked it up at a sidewalk stall on the way to meet her
for dinner. It was a special moment, and the necklace was more important to her than the ring he bought her in the days afterward.
The photographer kept profusely apologizing, clearly feeling guilty, though it had been an accidental mishap.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Aida assured him, though her spirits were crushed by the loss.
She took a deep centering breath. For now, they had to finish packing up and get moving. But as she climbed into the car,
Aida couldn’t help but cast one last longing glance across the fields, irrationally hoping her pendant might glint in the
sunlight and reveal itself.
The next morning when she called Graham, he was in such a terrible mood that she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about
the mishap with the necklace.
“While you’re gallivanting all over Italy, I’m trying to deal with a rat in the basement and a problem with the heat.
Again. So, it’s freezing over here,” Graham said with a strained voice, the underlying resentment palpable.
“To top it off, Mrs. Bell from next door has taken to practicing the piano at odd hours of the night. And I feel bad saying anything to her since she got her cancer diagnosis. So, between the cold and the noise, I’m getting barely any sleep. ”
Aida winced. “I’m sorry, Graham. It sounds really rough.”
His sigh was heavy. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to deal with the real-world stuff.”
“It’s not all fun and games here,” Aida said, feeling defensive. “So much time has already flown by. I’ll be home before you
know it.”
“Maybe for you it’s flown by. Not for me.”
Aida wasn’t sure what to do with his irritation. Graham was generally good-natured, always managing to look at the brighter
side of life.
She attempted to switch the subject. “Hey, I have some good news. Last night I signed the contract for the deejay and started
putting the playlist together.”
“Great,” he said. “Do I even get a say in that?”
Aida drew a deep breath. This side of him was unexpected. “Of course you do! That’s why I’m telling you. I just thought I’d
get us started.”
“All right, okay.”
A deep unease rose within Aida. Was being away for so long a bad idea, after all? “Hey, you have spring break coming up. Why
don’t you come to Italy? We started to talk about that but never figured it out. We can spend a little of the MODA money on
a visit.”
“I can’t. There’s a conference on fusion energy and plasma physics that I want to go to.”
That he wants to go to more than he wants to come to me, Aida thought, stunned. But aloud she said, “That sounds like a good time.”
“Well, it is for me,” Graham said. “You’re having your adventures, so I will have mine.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” Aida told him, although she thought it was anything but.
He sounded like he was trying to spite her.
She couldn’t quite grasp this emerging side of him.
It was a stark departure from the warmth he used to show.
Now he just seemed disappointed in her, his words tinged with a cool detachment that was new and unsettling.
“I miss you, Graham. I don’t sleep well without you.”
“Same here. I need to get back to class. Talk to you soon. I love you.” He didn’t wait for a response. Her phone signaled
the end of the call.
“I love you too,” she told the dark phone.