10. Valentin #3
My wife tried to tell me. That night, after it happened.
She started to explain and I interrupted her.
I told her that even if there had been a disagreement, she should have told me instead of letting it become physical.
I never asked what happened. I assumed I already knew because my mother told me, and I chose that version over whatever Solenne was trying to say.
I chose my mother’s word over my wife’s. Again and again. Every time.
The door opens. Delfina stands there, looking like she hasn’t slept any more than I have.
“The footage,” I say. “It shows what you told me. Ginevra pushed you first.”
Delfina nods slowly. “The Signora was protecting me. That’s all she did.”
“Sit down. Please. I need to hear the rest.”
She settles into the chair across from my father’s desk. I wait until she’s ready.
“Summer said Ginevra told her she would be her new mother. Have you heard her say that?”
“Not to Summer. But I heard how she spoke to the Signora that day. I was at the doorway,” Delfina says. “I came to speak up for Teresa, for the bracelet accusation. Signorina Solano was already talking to the Signora. I heard part of it.”
“What did you hear?”
“She called the Signora an outsider. Said you were too kind to reject her.” Delfina’s voice is steady but quiet. “Said you only married her because she got pregnant and trapped you.”
The words hit like a physical blow. I think about Summer’s voice on the video. The pretty lady said she’s going to be my new mamma.
“That’s when I stepped in,” Delfina continues. “I said Teresa didn’t steal the bracelet, that Signorina Solano had no right to accuse her. That’s when she pushed me.”
“And my mother? What did she do after?”
“She took the Signora to the study. I don’t know what was said there. But afterward, she came to me separately. That’s when she made the threats. About my position, about Teresa, about anyone who contradicted the story.”
“She threatened to fire you for telling the truth.”
“She said I would go first if I spoke up. Then Teresa. Then the others who might be tempted to gossip.” Delfina meets my eyes. “I was afraid. I’ve worked in this house for forty years. I didn’t know where else I would go.”
“That’s not going to happen. Not to you, not to Teresa, not to anyone.”
“Thank you, Don Valentin.”
I stand up from the desk. “What else? What else has my mother done that I don’t know about?”
Delfina tells me about the seating arrangements, how Solenne was always placed at the far end of the table, away from me.
About the charity luncheon where my wife was angled out of the photographs.
About the whispers she’s heard, the story my mother has been spreading that Solenne trapped me with a pregnancy.
“The Signora tried to tell you,” Delfina says. “After events, after dinners. I don’t know what she said, but I know she tried.”
I think about all those conversations. The ones I cut short because I was tired. The ones I postponed because I had meetings in the morning. The ones where I asked her to keep the peace, to wait until things settled down, to give my mother time to adjust.
“She stopped trying after a while,” Delfina adds quietly. “I think she stopped believing you would listen.”
That’s the part that cuts deepest. Not that I didn’t know, but that I could have known. That my wife told me, in her own way, again and again, and I chose not to hear it.
“Is there anything else?”
“The fiesta. Yesterday afternoon, when your mother made the phone call.” Delfina folds her hands in her lap. “I heard her say there was no need for you to come back. She had everything in hand.”
I remember thanking my mother for looking after them. My wife was in the same house, and I didn’t ask to speak to her.
“Thank you, Delfina.” I move toward the door. “For telling me. For being willing to tell me even after everything my mother threatened.”
“The Signora asked me to.” Delfina rises slowly from her chair. “I don’t know what she expects from you now. You’ll have to ask her.”
I nod and step out of the study, leaving her to rest.
The terrace is cold in the morning light. Someone has moved the small wicker chair Summer likes against the wall, out of the wind. I pull it back beside the table, then stop with my hand on its arm.
There is no one here to sit in it.
I take out my phone and find my mother’s number.
We need to talk.
I send it. For once, I don’t add anything to soften what I’ve said.
Beyond the railing, the sea stretches toward a horizon I can barely make out. Solenne and Summer will be on their way to Los Angeles soon, if they haven’t already boarded. I know where they’re going. I have known since her first message.
I read it again, stopping at the words safe with me.
Even as she left, she took care not to frighten me about our daughter.
I lower the phone onto the table beside Summer’s empty chair. My mother will come down expecting me to hear her side, to understand what she meant, to make this easier for her.
I can stop doing that today.
But Solenne may never come home to see it.