We stared at each other as the air shifted between us. I ached to touch him. Run my finger over his rough cheek and blunt nose. Trace the line of his lips. Step into his arms and be held tight. God, it had been so long since a man had held me or I’d experienced an intimate touch.
The question shook me to the core. Was I reading too much into this assumed connection? Was I so rusty I couldn’t tell anymore between truth and lies? He probably acted like this with all women. He was charming enough to make me feel special, but I was a paying customer and his tip and review were critical to his job. I shrugged off the faint hurt and confusion, stepping back. My voice came out husky. “I don’t know.” The silence screamed volumes. “I better go.”
The wall slammed between us, and once again, he was a complete professional, his gaze barely revealing any signs of interest. “Of course. I shall see you at seven, then?”
I nodded, and he’d already disappeared, swallowed up by the next group, who joked with him and asked him dozens of questions in a flurry. I walked over to Allegra. “Are you staying with Nonni again?”
I knew she’d been ignoring me and was pissed about my missing dinner last night. I didn’t blame her, but that awful Instagram video had put me into a full-fledged panic, so I’d called my team to have them monitor our social media pages, making sure I didn’t get tagged and none of my clients discovered the video. Thank God, my daughter had been right. Within twenty-four hours, the views and shares had declined. I was no longer fresh material. Unfortunately, the damage had been done.
I was grateful she didn’t respond with a smart-ass comment. “Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll come to your door at seven and we’ll have a quick drink, then go for dinner. Do you both need anything?”
Mom shook her head. “No, just a long nap.”
I studied her face, which seemed a bit strained. “Mom, we can skip the drinks. I can even bring you some dinner if you want to stay in the room tonight? We did a lot of walking.”
“Nonsense, I just need a bit of rest. No need to fuss.”
Allegra’s gaze was sharp, and she gave me a little nod, as if telling me she would keep an eye on her. Appreciation and a hint of regret warred within me. I’d wanted a child so badly but didn’t want to give up my career. I’d been determined to have both and was lucky to have my mother to fill in the gaps to help raise Allegra. Somehow, though, as time passed, it’d been easier to sink back into work mode and let Mom take care of everything. Maybe it’d happened gradually—one missed dinner at a time. One less track meet or tennis match attended in order to meet a deadline. I was grateful to my mother, but if she hadn’t been so willing to fill in all the spaces of my life, would I be feeling so distant from Allegra? Were my mother’s many miscarriages part of the reason she’d wanted to take over my entire life? And now that I understood her more, did I even blame her? She’d had limited choices. It’d been easier to be angry and resentful when I felt like she’d had alternate paths in her life.
I pushed away my churning thoughts and went to my room. The next few hours passed in a whirlwind. I took a short nap, showered, and worked on my laptop. I’d be hearing back about a new pitch I was hoping to secure, and Kate knew to call ASAP once she got news.
I knocked on their door. “You look better,” I told Mom. Her eyes weren’t pinched and her skin had better color.
“I told you a nap works wonders.”
“Honey, you look so pretty.” Allegra was wearing a short yellow dress with white canvas sneakers. Her hair was twisted up and a few gentle waves fell to frame her face. My heart gave a lurch with sheer love. Her acne had cleared up, and her makeup was no longer plastered onto her face in an attempt to look older or more sophisticated. My baby was a young woman going into her senior year. When she went away to college, there’d be less time and less control of her schedule. I made a quick vow that I’d forgo work for the rest of the week. I’d let everyone do their job and focus on my daughter. Enzo was right—it was time to unwind and take advantage of this trip.
“Thanks.” She gave me a tentative smile. “You too.”
I beamed. I’d donned white capris and a feminine peach lace top. My white sandals had crisscross straps and flattered my calves. “Let’s go dazzle some boys.”
They laughed and we headed to the lounge on the first floor. Comfortable cream leather chairs and sofas were arranged around a beautiful mahogany bar. Leafy plants and glass tables accented the room, and the patio doors were flung open to a terrace. Most of the tour was already there and held drinks in their hands, gathering in small groups to chat.
I got Allegra a Coca-Cola in a glass bottle, and Mom and I had white wine. Bites of bruschetta and prosciutto-wrapped melon were passed around on platters, along with a selection of cheese and fruit with a variety of crackers. I grabbed a handful of grapes and greeted Dana and Steve.
“Darlin’, I didn’t know you had to climb Everest to enjoy the island,” Dana drawled in her thick accent. “Sophia, how did you end up getting to the top before me?”
“I practiced my Jane Fonda every day,” she said proudly. “Fran made fun of me, but it’s come in handy.”
“I declare, I’m saving money on my gym membership—send me the link to buy one.” She fussed over Allegra’s outfit and I admired her purple sleeveless jumpsuit and Steve’s matching shirt. He was wearing a Stetson again, but this one was white. I wondered how many bags they’d had to pack in order to fit all the hats and jewelry they’d brought. “We’re headed to a darling little restaurant that Enzo recommended for dinner. Come with us.”
I hesitated, but Allegra and Mom seemed excited, so we agreed. Before long, Cherry and Laura asked to join us, and we all headed out after Enzo called in and managed to get us a revised reservation.
The evening was bright and lively, with crowds of tourists overflowing the shops and restaurants, soaking up the last of the sun. Our table was outside under a bright red awning, the spill of scarlet and fuchsia flowers bursting around us. I breathed in the scents of citrus, ordered a glass of champagne to celebrate my new resolve, and actually enjoyed the light chatter at the table.
We feasted on succulent prawns simmered in a seafood broth and on tender artichokes, and indulged in crusty bread with a light smear of real butter. Cherry entertained us with stories of their rescue farm and animal antics, and Dana battled back with tales of fashionable celebrities gone terribly wrong. Even though Steve was the only male, his droll comments made me laugh out loud. I was just about to order cappuccino when my phone began to vibrate. I ignored it for a while, but my purse kept letting out a low hum, and I began to get nervous.
With an easy smile, I stood up. “Be right back. Restroom.”
I got lucky the other women didn’t flock to accompany me, and I managed to scurry around to the front and find a sheltered corner to check my phone. Dammit. It was Kate. I quickly returned her call and vowed I’d tell her I was officially on vacation for the next few days and couldn’t be disturbed.
“We have a huge problem,” she said quickly. “Remember consumers didn’t like the social media campaign?”
My heart beat faster. “Yes, but I fixed it before I left. He was happy with the revised ads.”
“Not anymore. Now he wants to scrap the entire campaign—not just social media. He’s insisting on a new option. Said our direction was too edgy.”
I sucked in a breath. “Are you kidding? He told us that’s what he wanted. Shocking. Sexy. Vintage Brooke Shields rolling around in front of the camera. We booked that new model who’s hot right now.”
“I know, but now he’s panicking and changed his mind. He wants classy. Less skin and youth—more elegance and movie-star focused. He nixed the hip-hop music.”
My brain began clicking furiously for other options. “Okay, get me all the notes and I’ll find time to brainstorm in the next few days. Tell Perry we can get him a
new plan on Monday.”
“Fran, it’s too late. He wants it in twenty-four hours. Said he needs to make a decision ASAP.”
My breath felt trapped in my lungs. “Did you tell him I’m away?”
“Yes, but I told him you were on call and we’d give him what he needs. Let me pull in a few team members and pull an all-nighter if we need to. Adam and Layla can step up. I have some rough ideas—we can sketch some out and I’ll get them to you for approval.”
“No.” With a growing dread, I realized I had to do it. I couldn’t lose this account just because I’d decided to spend a few weeks in Italy. I knew exactly how to deliver a new campaign Perry would love, but I needed hours in a room alone with my laptop. Already, my mind spun with the possibilities now that I had to switch gears. “I’ll do it, Kate. You don’t know the jeans market and I need you full-time on the Lexi account. I can get it done with the time difference. You’ll have it in the morning.”
“Fran, this is ridiculous—let me get back to you. Sarah is fabulous with pivoting on a deadline and she’s got great ideas.”
She was right. Sarah was excellent. But she wasn’t me. She didn’t know Perry’s quirks, or his sense of humor, or that he favored blondes over brunettes and curves over skinniness. The jeans market was cutting-edge and there was no time to get her up to speed when I could do it myself and execute it perfectly. “I’ll need you to pitch it for me, Kate. Once I get you the campaign, it’s up to you and Layla to sell it. Do you understand?”
She hesitated, but both of us knew the decision had already been made. “Of course. I’m here if you need to shoot any ideas back and forth.”
“Thanks, I will.”
I hung up and took a deep breath.
I was screwed. Somehow, I needed to get back to my hotel room and work all night, and I didn’t want Allegra or Mom to know. It would cause even more tension between us, and I didn’t have time to fight or feel guilty. Best to fake a headache and get out of here as quickly as possible.
Mustering my courage, I headed back to the table. Dessert menus had been passed around and hot steam ascended from the coffee mugs. “Mom, do you want to split a tiramisu?” Allegra asked. “Nonni wants the lemon tart, so I’m going to share that with her, but I kind of want both.”
I put my fingers to my temple and gave a weary smile. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I have to go back to the room. I’ve been fighting a headache all day, but it’s heading into migraine territory and I don’t want to ruin our day tomorrow.”
“We can skip dessert and walk back with you,” Mom said with concern.
“No, it’s a crime to miss dessert. Stay and enjoy. I just need some sleep and Advil—I’ll be fine.”
Everyone murmured their apologies, offering various solutions from a cold compress to hanging upside down to reverse blood flow to the head, but all I could focus on was my daughter’s face.
She knew. Or she suspected. A simmering anger shot from her gaze, but I’d seen her temper many times and that didn’t bother me. No, it was the hurt. As if I’d managed to trick her after she gave me a second chance.
If only I had time to make her understand. But I didn’t. I would later. Right now, I needed to get to work.
Blowing kisses at the table, I spun around quickly and walked back to the hotel. I settled in front of my laptop, put in my earbuds for some music distraction and to help stir my creativity, and began to outline bullet points for the new proposal.
I’m not sure how long someone was knocking before the sound finally penetrated my music and work trance. I shook my head to clear it and opened the door.
“How’s your headache?” Mom asked.
Shit. I blinked and moved to block the entrance to my room so she couldn’t see my computer. “Better. I was lying down. How’s Allegra?”
“Upset.” My mother’s steady dark gaze drilled into mine. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”
“Um, can we talk in the morning? I really need to—”
“Now.” She pushed past and walked in with a maternal authority I knew well. I meekly shut the door behind me. I was too tired and stressed to fight. I’d let her yell and I’d deal with the fallout tomorrow. “I see the Advil worked quickly. Unless work is a cure for migraines?”
I glared at her with frustration. “Fine, I had a huge disaster at work and need to get it straightened out. We spent the whole day together and I only left for dessert. Why can’t you understand?”
A sigh escaped her. “Frannie, this isn’t about me. It’s about Allegra. How do you think she feels knowing you lied to her? You promised this trip would be an opportunity to strengthen your relationship, but so far, you’ve managed to steadily disappear in our very first week.”
“I’m trying. If I don’t deliver this new campaign by the morning, I’m going to lose an important client. This is the last time. I’ll tell Kate and Layla after this to keep me out of the loop.”
“Until the next supposed catastrophe. If you believe that, you’re lying to yourself and us.”
I paced the room like a caged animal. “Fine, Mom, you win. I’m a terrible mother. An awful daughter. A selfish workaholic who only cares about success. Feel better now?”
I wanted her to yell back at me. I despised my juvenile tirade, but my temper was frayed and I desperately needed an outlet for all this pent-up emotion. I craved a good old-fashioned fight where I could walk away feeling superior and wronged. But she faced me with a calm expression, her hands open and upward in a plea.
“You are none of those things,” she said softly. “But I’m watching you slowly fall apart in front of me and I can’t take it. I know you were always closest to your father, and we’ve had our moments, but you’re my daughter. You and Allegra are my life. How can I make you understand how badly she needs you right now?”
My heart squeezed from the painful impact of her words. “I’m right here! But she doesn’t want to talk to me—not like she talks to you. Whether it’s school or boys or friends or college, she blocks me at every turn and shuts me out. Work is the only outlet where I don’t feel like a failure, okay?” I continued to pace and let the words bubble out of my mouth. “She’s going to leave and live her own life and shut me out. If I let my business fail, I’ll be left with nothing.”
“Your business will not fail if you take some time off or institute some balance and allow others to help you. I hate to break this to you, my love, but your father found this out too late. He kept pushing for one last deal, one more year before retirement. And then it was too late because time had gotten the last laugh.”
I shook my head hard. “Dad loved what he did. I never resented his work. Not like you did.”
Pain etched lines on her face. “You don’t remember? How angry you were when he couldn’t see your school play or your soccer tournament? How about the honor society induction or when you won the first-place ribbon in the science fair? Or the daddy-daughter weekend camping trip?”
The memories were foggy. I’d never questioned his responsibilities and limitations. My mother’s role had always been clear. “I didn’t blame him.”
“What about me, Frannie? Did you blame me?”
I jerked. “Of course not. That makes no sense.”
She turned around so I couldn’t see her reaction. “Sometimes, children can’t make sense of how they feel. You were always angry with me. Resentful that I was the one to show up at all your activities, or sit with you at dinner every night, or tuck you into bed. Your father was a great man, and you revered him. It was easier that way, I think. Easier to blame me for missing him.”
I stiffened. There were so many things I disagreed with my mother about, especially her choice to do nothing on her own beyond staying home to raise me, even when I was in high school. Her life revolved around her family, and when that family was gone, she’d been left alone. I didn’t want th
at for myself. I identified so much better with my father—who was driven by ambition to succeed and work he was passionate about. His identity was more than another person to love. When he came home, he brought a bigger-than-life joy to the house, and even if I only had him for an hour, that hour was pure magic. He played hard and talked about important subjects and made me feel special. He’d take me on car rides for ice cream alone, and we’d discuss any random topic in full detail while he listened raptly and gave me advice that was always spot on. And my mother?
She was the one left behind to deal with the boring day-to-day stuff. The one I argued with and blamed when something went wrong. The one faithfully sitting in the darkened audience alone, to watch me, even though I craved my father’s presence. But I reasoned he was doing bigger and better things and that his absence was actually a sacrifice. Mom had no excuses—her entire existence revolved around me.
Had I punished her for such a choice?
She kept speaking as my mind raced in circles. “Allegra pushes you away because she wants more time with you but is unable to express it. It’s easier with me. I’m her grandmother.”
“You were the one to help raise her. She loves you.”
“And she loves you. Mother-daughter relationships are complicated, but this is an important time in her life. She’s looking for you to support her even if you don’t agree. Or at least listen.”
“I try.”
“Try harder.”
I let out a breath and paced faster. “Like being a chef? Did you put that idea in her mind?”
“No, but she loves cooking and I think it’s great she’s passionate about something.”
Our Italian Summer Page 18
