Chapter 7
ENZO
“Enzo Knight?” Another man sitting a few places away from Caspar asks. He raises his voice because the noise in the hall is getting louder. He tells me his name, and that he's the head of an investment fund in the Cayman Islands.
I nod in acknowledgment.
The chatter begins again, and I start to feel restless, like I shouldn't be here. I can't stand sitting through such pretentious conversations with people I care nothing for.
“There you are!” Those words, that voice, and a hand placed on my shoulder. A jolt goes through me, followed by a rush of relief so strong it catches me off guard.
She's back.
I turn and look up at her.
“I've been looking for you everywhere!”
“I waited for you but—” I stand up, getting ready to pull her chair out.
“You saved me a place. You saved two. I don't need two, but that's very sweet of you.” She pulls it out herself and sits down before I can do anything.
She sinks down beside me, and I immediately feel a weight lift.
Dinner, and the rest of this evening, look hopeful again.
Everyone around the table stops talking and stares at her.
“Hi,” she says, smiling brightly as pairs of cold, arrogant eyes greet her. “Don’t let me get in the way of your riveting conversation.” She waves her hand dismissively. Then she sees Gloria.
“Thank goodness I'm not the only woman here.”
The smile on Caspar's wife's lips is so thin, it might as well not be there.
“I'm Molly,” she announces proudly. “I'm a kindergarten teacher.”
Her name is Molly.
Somehow, it fits her.
She also doesn’t seem to care that these people wouldn’t be the slightest bit interested in her. She seems just happy to be here.
Gloria nods, but remains silent. Nobody utters a word. Not one word. After a few seconds, they turn to one another and speak among themselves.
The atmosphere at the table changes, it's slightly electric and off-kilter. Not so subdued and series.
Molly turns to me. “Are they all snooty?” she whispers.
“Pretty much,” I whisper back. “Sorry. I had no choice but to sit here.”
“It’s okay.” Her smile is endearing. She’s set her mask on the table, her clutch in her lap. A few strands of her chestnut hair have fallen around her face. “I expect every table here is filled with these types of people.”
These types of people.
She knows exactly what kind of people they are, and I suspect that she has an idea of how they perceive her, but she doesn’t care.
She loves the children she teaches, and it’s clear to see that she genuinely cares about them. The people sitting around this table, with all their money and influence, don’t impress her in the slightest.
Not an iota.
I like that about her.
“Oh! The menu. Yippee! At least I know what's coming.”
She picks up the printed card beside her place setting, and I suppress a grin. I love how excited she gets about food.
But her expression suddenly turns serious.
“It’s in Italian.”
“I can translate it.”
“I have Google.” She reaches for her clutch.
I turn the menu over.
She looks down.
“Oh.”
“The English version.” I suppress another grin.
“I knew that.”
“Of course you did.”
She studies the menu.
“So much food. I’m in heaven.”
I can only smile at her excitement. I never get that excited about food.
“Oh! Handmade pasta—” She leans towards me. “Why are there six forks?”
“One for every course.”
She stares at them at them for a few seconds. “That’s a whole lot of washing up.”
I laugh, because it’s funny. And six forks are absurd. I’ve just never considered that before.
“Why did it take you so long to go to the washroom?”
“I was looking for you.”
This hits me, setting off tiny explosions inside my chest. “You were?”
“I told you to wait for me, and you said you would, but you didn't.”
“I'm sorry.” I lean closer to her, so close that my nose brushes her earlobe. I spring back. “Sorry.”
“Why didn't you wait for me?”
I whisper to her about Caspar, explaining how I ended up sitting here.
“You poor thing,” she laments, as the servers start setting down our plates of food.
“Why poor?”
“You’d have had such a boring evening with all of them.”
She’s right about that.
“So, your name is Molly.”
“It is.” She waits like she’s expecting me to tell her my name, but I don’t. I like the secrecy. I like that she doesn’t know I’m a Knight. I’m not sure she’d care about it, even if she did know about the Knights, but I like the anonymity.
“Aren't you going to take your mask off?” she asks, as the first course is served.
“I don’t need to.” I pick up my fork. I'm never that hungry at these events, and I tend to only pick at my food. “I can eat just fine with it on.”
“You like keeping parts of yourself hidden,” she murmurs, watching me intently.
I don't answer her, because the waiters start serving the food. Six courses follow, each one more beautiful than the last—delicate seafood, handmade pasta, some impossibly tender meat, and tiny desserts that look far too pretty to eat.
We both talk to the other guests when we have to, but somehow, every conversation between Molly and me picks up again exactly where we left it.
“Do you know all these people?” she asks, when we turn to one another again.
“Sort of. I know who they are, but I only know about half of them to talk to.”
“Then why were you standing all by yourself when I found you?”
I lean in towards her. “I might know them but they're not friends; they're just people I know in my circle.”
“You seem lonely,” she murmurs.
“In your opinion.”
She pauses. “In my opinion.”
It's her observation, and she’s not entirely wrong. We talk in low whispers, heads turned to one another, so close, almost intimate, and I realize, for me, it's because I don't want to talk to any of the others. I don't want them to interrupt us, or waste our precious time.
Who knows if I'll ever meet her again?
“But you don't have to be all by yourself tonight,” she tells me. “I won’t leave you to die of boredom.”
“Thank you.” I’m curious about something. “How did you get an invite?”
“I didn't. Like I told you, my headmistress was supposed to be here. She knows Luca Valizar and—”
The clang of cutlery makes us both turn our heads. Everyone is staring at Molly, in shock.
“Should I not say his name?” she whispers. “Is he like Voldemort? He Who Must Not Be Named?”
I laugh.
To my surprise, Gloria does, too.
“You really are something, dear,” she says, shaking her head.
Molly flashes a smile. “Why, thank you.”
Everyone gets back to eating and I lean towards Molly again.
“I’m not sure if that was meant as a compliment.”
“I know it wasn’t, but my headmistress thinks I can handle it.”
“Handle what?”
She looks around the table. “These people…”
“I can see that you can.”
“Thank you. Oh. I got talking to …” She lowers her voice. “Luca Valizar out there.”
This is news. “Out where?”
“When I came out of the washroom.”
“What’s he like?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get to see his face. He’s big and tall.”
“Great. That tells me a lot.”
She flashes a big smile at me again, like it makes her insanely happy. She has a lovely smile. I’m glad she came and found me. Rescued me from sitting through dinner talking to the others.
Maybe Venice has lowered my guard. This evening of masks has allowed me to let go of more than usual, because I’m hiding behind an actual mask. I don’t care to analyze it too much just yet.
“My headmistress thinks I make people feel comfortable, but I don't know if that’s true because when I came up to you, you didn't look comfortable at all. You didn't even know what to say but then maybe that's okay because you don't talk much.”
I’m speechless. I love the way she says what she thinks and doesn't even worry about it.
“But …” Her expression dims and she looks pensive.
“It was a risk, me going up to you, a stranger, wearing a mask, and me being in a place where I don’t know anyone.
I’m not na?ve or gullible, as some would think …
” She glances at the people around the table, before turning back to me.
“But I can read people pretty well, and I didn’t think you were a weirdo. ”
“A weirdo?”
I’m bemused. This is not the kind of conversation I envisaged having, but I’m so glad I am.
“You could tell even though you haven’t seen my face, or been able to gauge my expression?”
“I could read you. The way you stood, alone and off to the side.”
“You weren’t worried that I could be a serial killer?”
She angles her head, like she’s considering it. “My spidey senses told me otherwise.”
I chuckle at this. No woman I’ve talked to has ever referenced Spider-Man.
“My friend Kiki told me ...” Her voice drops again, and she looks around the table conspiratorially. Her eyes meet mine again. “She said I should bag a millionaire, even if he's a dinosaur.” Her voice drops even lower and she makes a face like she didn't like the advice.
I don't like that advice either, and I have a feeling that this Kiki isn't as great a friend as Molly seems to think.
“You didn't want to?” I prompt.
“No! I didn't want to meet anyone. I just wanted to have fun.
I've never been to a place like this before, a palace of all things. I've never had the chance to dress up, and wear a mask. Are you kidding me! I can’t wait to tell the children.” She pauses, looking at the feast before her.
“I’ve never had such delicious food. Food I'll never see again.”
“You’re very …” It’s too late, because the words have already escaped my mouth.
“I’m very what?”
I hesitate, but she says things as they come to her, not holding back, and it’s starting to rub off on me. “Sweet. You’re very sweet.”
Her smile spreads. “Awww. Thank you. But so are you, sweet. You remind me of my children. You have the same innocence and niceness about you.” She quickly glances at the others and whispers again. “I've spoken to these dinosaurs. I don't like them much.”
I wink at her. “Me neither.”