Chapter 31
Thirty-One
REGINA
Despite my outburst, dinner was a pleasant experience. I mainly chatted with Nico while the rest of the family murmured in low conversation, but it’s as if I cleared the air with my speech because the tension evaporated.
The food was stunning, gourmet even, and rather too much of it for my waistline to cope with.
Nico was an attentive companion, regaling me with tales of life growing up here and when the dessert is all eaten, Giovanni nods toward Sophia.
“There are matters to discuss with our sons. Take Regina on a tour of the property. We will meet for coffee in the small living room.”
Sophia stands and smooths down her powder blue dress.
“Come, Regina, allow me to show you some of the house.”
I can’t get out of my chair quickly enough and with a soft kiss on Nico’s lips—for effect mainly—I head out of the room with Sophia, glad to breathe a little easier.
“You were very brave, my dear.” Sophia smiles, her voice low but warm.
“I guess you’re referencing my speech. It had to be said; the tension was so thick you could have served it with the turkey on Christmas day.”
Sophia laughs. “I like you, Regina. You are like a breath of fresh air blowing the cobwebs away. I can see why Nico fell in love with you.”
“Thank you.”
If anything, I feel bad because deceiving Nico’s father is one thing, but doing the same to his mother leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
“Come, I’ll show you the music room.”
As we head down the hallway, she points out various paintings by well know artists, and as we reach yet another door, she pushes inside, and my eyes light with pleasure.
As with everything in this mansion, it is dressed in decadence and almost regal. There is a mahogany stage set before a huge window that I’m guessing during the day has a stunning view of the ocean, although the only thing I can see outside is the garden lit with fairy lights and subdued lighting.
Sophia wanders over to the stage where a polished piano has pride of place, and she sits on the stool, running her fingers lovingly over the keys.
“Do you play?”
I take a seat nearby, which has an embroidered cloth similar to the tapestries on the ivory paneled walls.
“I used to be quite good; I even contemplated turning professional.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Giovanni. Marriage. My obligations.”
I note her wistful expression and say gently, “Will you play for me?”
“Of course.”
She appears to take a deep breath and as she begins to play, she closes her eyes, the beautiful music appearing to pass through her as she moves in time with it, her shoulders swaying from side to side, the strong notes haunting and melodramatic, filling the space that once remained silent.
I am transfixed to the spot because she could have been brilliant. She already is to my untrained ear, but even I can tell she is good at this, and for some reason my heart heaves inside me because of what she sacrificed for her family.
It’s obvious Sophia was born to play music, and after she finishes, I clap loudly. “Wow, Sophia, that was amazing.”
She blushes, and her wistful expression causes my heart to physically hurt.
“Do you still play in public?”
I can guess the answer already as she replaces the cover and shakes her head. “No. I play when I’m alone. It calms me and focuses my attention, distancing me from my life here.”
“Why, don’t you enjoy this life?”
I’m confused because, on face value, Sophia has everything, and yet it’s becoming increasingly obvious that isn’t the case.
“It is my life, I accepted that a long time ago. It can be lonely at times though, which is why I was so impressed that you fought for your independence.”
I say nothing because this is becoming intense, and I say lightly, “So, do you know any Christmas tunes?”
“Of course.” Her eyes light up, and as she turns back the cover, the gentle notes of Silent Night fill the air. It is hauntingly beautiful as she plays the music, and I can’t help but hum the tune.
The fact we’re alone gives me courage, and I move to her side and sing the words, loving how she joins in. It’s a magical moment as we sing the carol, surrounded by the beautifully lit tree and the warm lighting concentrated on the small stage.
We get to the end and she smiles, a hint of moisture welling in her eyes.
“Thank you.” She appears so grateful I reach out and place my hand on her arm, a return smile my only response.
She inhales and turns her attention to the walls.
“Every tapestry here is one I made.”
“Wow, really?” I gaze at the art on the walls with a new interest because I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between these and the ones in the dining room.
She stands, and I follow her to the one above yet another huge fireplace.
“This one is entitled Mother and Sons.”
As she says it, I detect a self-portrait made of silks, depicting four young boys playing by the ocean.
“I wanted this one to have the best view. When it’s light, this room has an impressive view of the beach outside, where the boys used to play.
We had nannies, but I always insisted that was my responsibility.
To play with them on the sand to create a memory they would always reflect back on with love. ”
I stare at the tapestry, noting the depiction of a family scene—a mother and sons, surrounded by love.
She says with a soft excitement, “Perhaps I will be able to do another with my grandchildren next time. I liked your vision of a happy life with lots of children.”
“Of course. I want that so much.”
She turns, and her sympathetic smile is comforting as she asks, “Tell me about your parents.”
“They may as well be strangers.”
“That must hurt.”
“Not really. I would have made an excuse not to go and stay with them for Christmas, anyway. I prefer to surround myself with genuine people, not ones with no interest in me or what I do in life.”
If anything, Sophia’s smile saddens, and I shrug. “Don’t feel bad for me. I don’t. I have good friends, a job that I love and now a fiancé who has exceeded all of my wishes. You should be proud of him; he’s one in a million.”
She is spared from a response as the door opens and one of the maids enters with an apologetic, “Mr. Ravera has asked that you join them in the small living room.”
“Of course. Thank you, Gerry.”
As the maid leaves, Sophia sighs and glances around her before saying sadly, “Stay strong, Regina and never forget who you are or give up on your dreams. This family can break even the strongest spirit, and you should be aware of that.”
I say nothing as I follow her out of the room, but I am wrapped in confusion. What can be so bad about having it all? If only I did, because it’s becoming increasingly obvious that what started out as fake is fast becoming way more when I picture the man who brought me into his world.
Fake has a habit of changing into reality the more time that passes, and I wonder if I can ever go back to my condo in Queens after this. After Nicholas Ravera. After finding him.