First Love Only Love (The Life 2)

My only thought as we were followed by a bevy of servants into the grand parlor was, holy… they robbed her of all this? She could’ve grown up in the lap of luxury if Félix the fuck didn’t keep her in that house of horrors? I wanted to get back on the plane and go find him.

I sat in silence, taking it all in as they fawned over my girl. She was finally beginning to relax halfway through their reminiscence as the talk focused on her mother and how much she looked like her. Here there was no guilt stemming from that fact; in fact, they seemed extremely happy about it.

Her aunts were already planning things for her to attend with the cousins she’d missed growing up, the ones they hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her with, so they had left them at home. “Look, Gianna, I was told you lost all the photos of your mother. Those two young ladies, your sisters, I take it,” she finally remembered I was there, “filled us in on much of what has been going on.”

“Actually, dad just admitted that he hadn’t thrown them out but kept them in storage.”

“Oh, did he? I guess that can be counted in his favor. He’s done so many unconscionable things I’m afraid poor Adrienne has been tossing and turning in her resting place all these years.” She got a sour look on her face.

“What were my parents like when they were younger?”

“That’s just it; he was the perfect husband and father. We used to joke that he’d stand in the way of a moving train for her. The boy was so smitten. As for you, when you were born, you’d have thought no one else had ever had a daughter before. He spoiled you so that there was no room left for the rest of us to do anything.” The aunts concurred, but they too looked pissed.

“I never worried about your mother being so far away from the rest of us because it was obvious that she was well-loved, and you two didn’t have a worry in the world. I’m not sure what happened after your mother’s death. Maybe it was the shock of it that changed Felix from a warm doting husband and father to the man you see today.”

“It’s that woman.” Aunt Aubrey sniped and her sisters, Adeline and Aline, joined in, but in such dignified ways I wasn’t sure they were decrying Becky; then again, calling her that foul woman pretty much put a stamp on it for me.

“Here, look, these are the family albums.” The first one looked like a tome of ancient arts; it was huge. “In here are the images of all the women in the Lyon family on the night of Le Bal.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s one of the more distinguished debutant balls of the season.”

I looked on from my place next to her as she turned the gold-edged pages that looked like some poor soul spends hours keeping intact. Some of the images had that sepia tint to them from age, but they were filled with beauty and prestige.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask, the coat of arms, it’s not Italian.” I know because I’m a history nerd, and I know pretty much what they look like; this isn’t it.

“Oh, that’s from my side. We’re a family of French and Italian mix. Your grandfather, rest his soul, came from a family of great wealth, but there was never any title in his background. When we met and fell in love, he agreed to take on our family name, he wanted his daughters to grow up with the same prestige as my sisters, and I did.”

“Thank you for explaining.” They went back to looking at pictures.

“You’ve not had a coming out, have you, Gia?” Aunt Aline asked.

“No, I haven’t; I don’t think I’ve known anyone who has.”

“The twins are attending one in New York this December.” Gianna looked at me like I had two heads.

“Oh, marvelous. We can get Gia added to the list, but there isn’t much time. I’ll have to call around, and you girls must do your bit. As to Le Bal, it's in Paris in November, that should be no problem; her name was added to the list when she was christened. Our family has always been represented there in one capacity or another since they began in the late fifties. Adrienne would be so pleased that her daughter wasn’t robbed of this right.”

“Did you say Paris?”

I’m a horrible person, I’ll admit it. While they went on to talk about balls and whatnot, my mind was fixated on the fact that Sicily was only a five-hour flight from Paris, and in the jet, it would be even less. I tuned back in when Gianna made a very unselfish suggestion. “I’ll only go if the twins are accepted. I’m only here now because of Gabriel and them, in fact, the whole Russo family.”