Chapter 4 A Place Kept in Shadow #2
I want to believe him. I search his face for the certainty I need, for some sign that this promise is different from all the others, that this time he understands what he's offering and what it will cost me if he fails.
"Okay," I say quietly.
Vera rises from her chair, smoothing her skirt. "Well. It seems we've reached an understanding. Nadia, we should review the guest list for the final dinner. There are a few names that require particular attention."
Nadia stands as well, offering me a small nod that could mean anything. "I hope you feel better soon, Ysabel. Truly."
I don't answer. I watch them leave, Vera's heels clicking on the floor, Nadia following like a shadow, the door closing behind them with a soft click.
Leon's hand is still on my ankle. He's watching my face with that expression I've come to recognize, the one that says he knows something is wrong but isn't sure how to fix it.
"She'll do what she wants once you're there," I say. "You know that."
"I'll handle it."
"Will you?"
He doesn't answer right away. His thumb traces a small circle against my ankle, a gesture that might be comfort or might be apology.
"I'll try," he says finally. "That's all I can promise."
It's honest, at least. Honest in a way that hurts more than reassurance would.
"Go," I say. "You have arrangements to make. I need to rest."
He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead, a gentle pressure that lingers for a moment before he pulls back. "I love you."
"I know."
He stands and walks to the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. "The anniversary. Just us. I'll be there."
"You said that."
"I mean it."
Then he's gone, and I'm alone in the sitting room with the afternoon light falling soft through the windows and the echo of promises I've heard before.
The next afternoon finds me feeling almost human.
The morning nausea passed earlier than usual, and after some rest and a few bites of plain bread, I manage to keep everything down. It's not wellness, exactly, but it's enough to make the walls of this house feel less like a prison.
I find the estate driver in the garage, polishing the smaller car, and ask if he's free for a short trip to town.
"Of course, signora. Whenever you're ready."
"Give me ten minutes."
I change into something presentable, pin my hair back, and consider the face in the mirror. Pale, still. Tired around the eyes. But upright, which will do for a short outing.
Leon is in his study with Vera when I pass the door, their voices low and businesslike. I don't stop to announce my departure. Nadia is somewhere in the house, probably reviewing materials for the launch, preparing to be useful in all the ways I cannot. I leave without telling any of them.
The drive is short, maybe fifteen minutes, and the driver parks near the main square and tells me he'll wait by the fountain whenever I'm ready. The town is quiet in the early afternoon heat, most people sensible enough to stay indoors until the worst of it passes.
I walk slowly, letting my body set the pace, stopping at the small shop where I've bought linens before. The woman behind the counter recognizes me and offers a warm smile that feels genuine.
"Signora Rosciano. It's been too long."
"I haven't been out much lately. But I wanted to find something for a dinner I'm planning. Napkins, maybe. Something simple but nice."
She leads me to a display of cloth napkins in various colors and patterns, and I spend a pleasant few minutes sorting through them, touching the fabrics, considering which shade of cream would look best against the dark wood of our dining table.
I settle on a set with a delicate border of embroidered leaves, nothing extravagant but well made, the kind of thing that will last.
"For a special occasion?" she asks as she wraps them.
"My anniversary. Five days from now."
"How lovely. Two years, isn't it?"
"You remembered."
"Small town." She hands me the package with a knowing smile. "We remember everything."
I thank her and step back into the afternoon, the wrapped napkins tucked under my arm. The heat is heavy but not unbearable, and I find myself walking toward the cafe on the corner where Gia and I used to meet when we were younger, before marriages and obligations complicated everything.
The door chimes when I push it open, and the cool interior is a relief after the street. I order water and a cup of chamomile tea, then add a small plate of plain crackers after a moment's consideration. My stomach feels settled enough to risk it.
I'm just sitting down at a table by the window when I see her. Gia, crossing the square with a basket over her arm, her dark hair escaping from its pins the way it always does. She spots me through the glass and her face breaks into a grin.
"Of all the people," she says, pushing through the door. "I was just thinking about you."
"Good thoughts, I hope."
"Worried thoughts, mostly. You've been hiding." She slides into the chair across from me and sets her basket on the floor. "I was going to come by the estate tomorrow if I didn't hear from you."
"I'm here now."
"You are. And you look better than I expected." She flags down the server and orders coffee, black, then turns back to me with that sharp attention she's always had. "So. Tell me everything. What's happening up there in your beautiful prison?"
"It's not a prison."
"Close enough. Spill."
I tell her about the launch. About the arrangements, the conversation in the sitting room, the careful diplomatic language Leon used when he almost defended me.
I tell her about the anniversary promise, about the return flight booked for that morning, about my determination to believe he'll keep his word.
Gia listens without interrupting, her coffee growing cold, her expression shifting from concern to something harder as the story unfolds.
"So Nadia goes," she says when I finish. "Plays hostess at all the important dinners. Stands next to your husband while the whole world watches. And you're supposed to be fine with this because it's practical."
"I'm not fine with it. But I can't travel. That part is true."
"There's a difference between you not traveling and her stepping into your place like she belongs there."
"I know. That's why I asked Leon to make the distinction clear. She's an investor, a business partner. Not family."
"And you trust him to hold that line?"
I look down at my tea, at the pale liquid going tepid in the cup. "I trust that he wants to. Whether he can, with his mother working against him every step of the way, I don't know."
Gia is quiet for a moment. Then she leans forward, her voice dropping. "I saw them, you know. Two days ago. Leon, Vera, Nadia. Getting out of a car at the Conti estate."
My chest tightens. "The lunch. Leon mentioned it."
"You knew about it?"
"I was there when Vera reminded him that morning. I wasn't feeling well, so I stayed home." I force myself to meet her eyes. "It's not a secret. Vera said they were expected for lunch."
"And you believe that's all it was?"
"What else would it be?"
Gia sits back, her expression softening slightly. "I don't know. Maybe nothing. I was driving back from delivering some things for my aunt, and I happened to pass their gate just as the car was pulling in. Vera looked like she was presenting Nadia to royalty. Very proud. Very pleased with herself."
"Vera always looks like that."
"True enough." She picks up her coffee and takes a sip, grimacing at the temperature. "I just wanted you to know what people are seeing. What the town is noticing."
"And what are they noticing?"
"That Vera Rosciano has a new project. That she's been taking this woman everywhere, introducing her to everyone, making sure the right people see her in the right places.
" Gia pauses. "They're not judging you, Ysabel.
They're judging her. Everyone knows what she's doing, and everyone thinks it's cruel. "