12. Solenne
— ? —
Solenne
Three days pass in the strange rhythm of this new life.
Valentin keeps his word about not showing up again. Instead, there’s a single text each morning from the number I haven’t blocked. Still here. No pressure. The words vary slightly, but the meaning doesn’t. He’s still at the Montage. He hasn’t asked me to meet him there.
On the second day, a bouquet of peonies arrives at Odette’s door. My favorite, the ones he used to bring home in Los Angeles before everything changed. I stand in the hallway looking at them while Odette watches from the kitchen doorway.
“Do you want me to send them back?”
I touch a petal through the wrapping. He remembered the flowers. I wish that were the part I’d needed him to remember.
“Yes. Send them back. And tell him no more flowers.”
Odette nods and takes them away. When I check my phone an hour later, there’s a new message. Understood. No more flowers. Still here.
He stops.
Summer talks to him twice during these three days, short calls that Odette facilitates while I find reasons to be in another room. I can hear my daughter’s voice carrying through the house, telling him about the caterpillar and the library and the drawing she made of a purple dragon.
“Daddy says he wants to see it,” she reports after the second call. “Can I show him?”
“Thursday after lunch,” I tell her. Odette and I have arranged for him to spend the afternoon with her. “You can take the whole folder.”
Summer goes to find it before I’ve finished speaking.
The morning of the fourth day, I’m reviewing the scene I rewrote when my phone rings. Rachel Levy’s name on the screen.
“The team wants to meet,” she says without preamble. “Today, if you can make it. Two o’clock.”
“The team?”
“Marcus Webb is in town. He read your treatment last night and called me at six this morning to tell me he thinks there’s something there.”
Marcus Webb. I’ve never worked with him directly, but I know the name. Everyone in the industry knows the name.
“Two o’clock,” I repeat. “I’ll be there.”
I hang up and immediately start calculating logistics. Summer has preschool orientation today, a visit to the school she’ll be starting next month. Odette was going to take her before Valentin collected her for their afternoon together. I had blocked the time for rewrites.
I find Odette in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone with a frown.
“The agency just called,” she says before I can speak. “They moved my fitting to this afternoon. Some emergency with the designer’s schedule.” She looks up. “I’m so sorry. I know I said I’d take Summer to the orientation.”
“Rachel just called. They want me to come in today. Two o’clock.”
We stare at each other, both of us doing the same math.
“What time is the orientation?” Odette asks.
“One-thirty.”
“And your meeting?”
“Two.”
“That’s…” She trails off. We both know there’s no way to be in two places at once, and Culver City is a forty-minute drive from the preschool on a good traffic day.
I think about my options. I could ask the school to reschedule, but they were already accommodating to fit us in at all. I could ask Rachel to push the meeting, but Marcus Webb is in town today and might not be tomorrow.
Or I could call the number I haven’t blocked.
“I could ask Valentin,” I say, the words coming out before I’ve fully decided to say them.
Odette goes very still. “Are you sure?”
“He’s her father. He’s been asking to see her.” I pick up my phone, turning it over in my hands. “And it’s a preschool orientation, not a custody hearing. He takes her to the school, they look at the classroom, she shows him where her cubby will be. It’s an hour, maybe less.”
“Do you want me to ask him?”
“I can ask him.” I unlock the screen. “He knows how to look after her. I need to know he’ll keep making time to do it.”
“What about you? Are you ready to see him?”
“Long enough to hand her bag over. I can manage that.”
Odette considers this. “You’ll need to coordinate somehow.”
“I’ll text him the details. He can confirm through you if there are questions.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
I’m not sure about anything. But I open my phone and find the number that’s been sending me messages for three days.
Summer’s orientation is at 1:30. My meeting now conflicts with it. Could you take her before your afternoon together?
The response comes in less than a minute. Yes. Tell me where and when.
I send him the address and tell him to be at Odette’s by one. I’ll collect Summer from the playground near the school at four. He confirms both times, and I go upstairs to tell Summer about the change.
She’s in her room, arranging her drawings on the bed in some order only she understands.
“Mama, look. I put the dragon ones together. And the bunny ones. And this one is special.”
She holds up a piece of paper covered in bright colors. I recognize the yellow shape as Summer herself, the blue blob as Bunny, and what might be a tree or possibly a very tall piece of broccoli.
“That’s beautiful. What’s the special part?”
“It’s for Daddy.” She looks up at me. “Is it after lunch yet?”
“Not yet. But there’s a change.” I sit down on the edge of her bed. “Daddy is going to take you to see your new school today. The preschool orientation, remember?”
Her face lights up. “Daddy’s coming here?”
“He’s going to pick you up at one o’clock. You’ll go see the school together, and then you can show him all your drawings.”
Summer scrambles off the bed and starts gathering the papers, then stops. “What about you?”
“I have a work meeting. I’ll meet you both at the playground afterward, and you can tell me all about it.”
“Is Daddy going to stay this time?”
The question hits somewhere tender. I reach out and smooth her hair back from her face.
“Daddy is staying in Los Angeles for a while. So you’ll get to see him more.”
“But is he staying staying? Like before Italy?”
I don’t have an answer for that. The honest truth is I don’t know, and I’m not going to lie to her about something this important.
“Daddy and I are still figuring some things out,” I say carefully. “But no matter what, he loves you very much. And he wants to spend time with you.”
Summer considers this with the serious expression she gets when she’s processing complicated information. Then she nods.
“Okay. I’m going to bring all my best drawings.”
She returns to her sorting with renewed purpose, and I leave her to it.
At twelve-fifty, there’s a knock at the door.
He’s early. He’s also clearly nervous, though he’s trying to hide it. He’s wearing casual clothes I don’t recognize, nothing like the suits he lived in during our time in Sicily. He looks more like the man I met in Los Angeles, before his father died, before everything changed.
“Thank you for this,” he says, standing on the porch. He doesn’t try to come inside. “I know you didn’t have to ask me.”
“She’s been wanting to show you her drawings. This seemed like a good opportunity.”
“The orientation is at one-thirty?”
“At the address I sent. They’ll show you the classroom, introduce you to the teacher, let Summer see where her cubby will be. It should take about an hour.”
“And afterward?”
“There’s a playground near the school. She’ll probably want to run around after sitting still. And she mentioned ice cream this morning, so if you want to get some, that’s fine.”
“Ice cream.” He almost smiles. “I can manage ice cream.”
“Do you have a car seat?”
“In the rental. I had one installed after…” He stops, recalibrates. “I wanted to be ready in case there was a chance to see her.”
I glance past him at the rental car. I hand him the folder with the school information, and he opens it to check the teacher’s name.
“She’s upstairs,” I say. “I’ll get her.”
I turn toward the stairs, but Summer is already at the top, a folder stuffed with drawings clutched to her chest.
“Daddy!”
She comes down the stairs faster than is strictly safe, and Valentin moves past me without thinking to catch her at the bottom.
She throws herself into his arms with the complete trust of a child who doesn’t know how to hold back, and he lifts her up and holds her against his chest like she’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Hi, monkey.” His voice is rough. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too. Look what I brought.” She’s already trying to show him the folder while still being held. “These are my drawings. I made so many.”
“I can see that. Are you going to tell me about all of them?”
“Every single one.”
He looks at me over Summer’s head. There’s gratitude there, and something else I don’t want to examine too closely.
Summer reaches back for Bunny, tucked under my arm with her bag.
“Are you staying this time, Daddy?”
He lowers her until he can look at her properly. “I’m trying, sweetheart. Really trying. I’m staying here in Los Angeles, and today I’m with you all afternoon.”
“Even after the school?”
“Even after the school.”
She gives him Bunny. “You carry her. I have my drawings.”
“All right.” He tucks the rabbit carefully against his side.
“We should go,” I say. “You don’t want to be late.”
“Right.” He sets Summer down but keeps hold of her hand. “Say goodbye to Mama.”
Summer runs back to me for a hug. “Bye, Mama. I’ll tell you about my cubby.”
“I want to hear everything.”
I watch them walk to the car parked at the curb. Valentin opens the back door and helps Summer into the car seat, checking the straps with careful attention. She’s already talking to him about the drawings, explaining something about the purple dragon.
He closes her door and looks back at me one more time.
“We’ll meet you at the playground at four,” he says.
“Thank you.”
He nods and gets into the driver’s seat. I stand on the porch and watch them pull away, my daughter’s small hand waving at me through the window until they turn the corner and disappear.
***
The production company offices look different today.