I walk over to her and fold my arms, “Hiding the babies won’t keep them safe. Your lover died here. Sean nearly died here. I won’t have my babies stolen from me! I won’t live like this. If you won’t help, then leave. I’ll track down whoever sent this letter and I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Avery? What will you do? Please tell us.” Her voice is placid and her facial expressions match. She spreads her hands, palms up, acting like she’s placating a troublesome child.
“Whatever it takes.”
“Even if it’s family?” She rolls her eyes, insinuating that I don’t have the guts to do whatever it takes.
“The Campognes are not my family. You are.”
She sighs and pinches her temples and rips the letter out of my hands. “I said I’d take care of this. You should let me, and not allow your hormones dictate irreversible actions right now. Enjoy your post-pregnancy glow and hold your babies. And name them for chrissakes.”
I glance at Sean. He’s on his feet thinking the same thing as me. I’m certain of it. “Mother? What did you do?” He approaches slowly.
His father straightens up. “Wait a second. You had a lover? Die here? Under my nose? Constance. How could you?”
Constance rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why I keep you around.”
“Yes, you do,” the man grins and it softens Connie’s hard shell. “There, now. There’s nothing to fear. Simply say it, my dear. Before it becomes completely transparent. Control the fall of the shattering pieces.”
Constance frowns. She steeples her fingers and looks around the room. All eyes are on her when she lets out a rush of air and stands suddenly. Her silk suit is the color of fire, neither red nor orange. The hue is dark and the color is somber rather than vibrant. Her eyes dart around the table and fill with something akin to mistrust.
“Fine,” she blurts it out as if she were under attack.
“Use more words, dear.” Mr. Ferro doesn’t smile or let on that he’s enjoying watching her writhe. It’s almost the opposite. Like he’s trying to help her escape from some looming threat. Something big. Something she can’t face alone and won’t survive. It must be horrible. We all sit there waiting for the other shoe to drop, but Sean already knows. I can tell by the way he’s staring at her. His expression shifted, split on a blade, and the detest in his eyes makes me swing my head back towards his mother. My soon to be mother-in-law.
“What did you do?” My finger is pointing at her. Not unkindly, but in a way that says there’s more to this story than I was led to believe. This isn’t about the note. Or my God, maybe there were other threats and she kept them from me. No, that can’t be it or Sean would have started his verbal assault by now.
Connie runs her tongue over her teeth, beneath her lips, with her mouth shut tight. Jaw locked. Her hands unfold as the corners of her eyes crinkle. My heart drops, watching her try to find the words. The air suddenly turns thick. I don’t want to be here. I can’t stand to listen to another morally devoid reason why Constance Ferro did something to harm me. Those goddamned nightmares got so much worse because she made me think someone was going to take my baby. And that I’d be blamed. Fine, I added that last part. There’s still guilt about not knowing my mother was alive, not looking for her. The same threads of remorse were weaving a new blanket, one the size of a newborn son. A child I thought was in threatened.
“Constance, is my son in danger?” That’s all I care about at the moment. The who, what, and why of it no longer matters to me.
Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head. That sleek platinum bob shifts with the movement. I’ve never seen her this nervous, but she is. Her hands are shaking so she clasps them together and holds them to her heart to try to hide it, but I see. Everyone does.
When her red lips part, fury, and relief have collided so violently within my chest that I barely register what she’s saying. “Your baby is not in danger. You do not need to take action, Avery. Sean.” She nods at her son and parts her hands after taking a deep breath, “because I sent the letter.” Her expression tilts and morphs into one I’ve never seen on her before.
Sean is about to tear into Constance when his father raises his hand in the universal symbol to stop. I’ve never seen respect issued to Mr. Ferro so swiftly, but it’s granted by everyone in the room. “Tell them. They need to know what you were thinking. What you were hoping.”
Hoping?
Constance’s voice warbles with an emotion I’ve never heard in her voice. Her gaze drops to the table as she slowly lowers herself back into her seat and inches toward the edge, like she may run if needed. She lifts her chin and looks me in the eye. Me, the lunatic, hanging on the edge of the table with my palms plastered to the tablecloth and breathing like an ape.
Her silvery eyes meet mine, as she confesses, “I only wanted you to come home. I wanted—”
“So you threatened my child! What the hell is wrong with you?” I’m livid. Biting off words I want to scream, but they never find my lips. Her demeanor is so cowed that I can’t yell anymore. What the hell is going on?
Sean is next to me in an instant. Bryan’s hand is across his forehead like he has a headache. Cassie and Sidney’s jaws are on the tablecloth, shocked. This behavior is nothing compared to other crap she’s done. Welcome to the family.
I straighten and run a hand over my frizzing hair. It’s so humid today. I glance over at Sidney who has eyes the size of the china plates in front of her. “If you get a ransom note for Mr. Turkey, always look here first. Is that it?” The last part I say to Constance.
Mr. Ferro is smiling and knocks back another mimosa before leaning back in his seat. His voice speaks with utter conviction. “The act of a loving grandparent. I applaud you.” He lifts a glass to his wife. “Well done.”
Constance opens her mouth to explain, but no one will let her speak. Voices erupt from around the room hurling judgment at her like anvils. When it finally settles, I look down at her in her perfect chair, in her perfect home, that was perfectly empty before I came along. I fight the empathy I feel for her. I was alone before I met her. I know what that feels like, rich or poor. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
“Constance,” my voice is level, even, “that was the worst thing you could have done to me. Do you know how long it took me to stop looking over my shoulder? You heard me wake up screaming at night when we were in the Caribbean. I know you heard me falling apart. How could you do this? Are you trying to break me completely?” My voice is no longer accusatory. I sincerely want to know. The room is quiet. No one eats, drinks, or touches a piece of silver for fear of making a sound.
“Nothing will break you, Avery. Nothing.” The way she says it, with utter certainty makes me feel stronger. It pushes the bloody wedding gown dreams far away. “But then you came here and they settled a bit. Everything settled. That entire addition was for you. Not Sean. Not the babies, but you. As a mother, as a woman, there are times when you must become a pillar of stone. And there are times you just need to relax and have a place that is secure enough that you can do so.”
“And?” I push, knowing damn well that philanthropy wasn’t the epicenter of her motives.
“And I wanted the babies to know me. I thought once you came back home, that you’d be around more. But you weren’t. Understandably so. You both have endured a great deal of suffering and needed time. But there’s nowhere safer than right here.”
“Constance.” I scold her as I fold my arms over my chest. “Tell me the real reason this instant or I’m walking away for good. I’m done with your games. Don’t play them with me if you trust me. If I’m a Ferro, treat me like one.”
“I am.”
“Then treat me like I’m you. You wouldn’t stand for this. If I devised this concoction so that I could move into my tiny little house out in Apaquogue, you’d have me declared unfit to be a mother. You’d do anything.” My tirade falls short as I turn my head toward Sean. His molten blue eyes lost their fire somewhere arou
nd the same time as my ranting.
“We need to trust you. Implicitly.” Sean stares at his mother.
They’ve always butted heads, but at that moment, they seem to reach an unsaid agreement. Sean nods and stands behind me, places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes. Then he strides down the table, grabs his champagne flute, and downs it while pacing on the antique Persian rug. He turns and glances out the window. The tower of our mini-mansion can be seen from here, with the roses climbing up the stones. Gardens were added in between. To walk. For a child to play hide and seek, build forts, and fairy houses.
Unfolding my arms, I look down at Constance. She must feel so isolated and alone. My mother helped that but she wasn’t the cure. The cure is sitting at this table. Constance accidentally pushed away the ones she loved the most—the people she wanted to protect.
“The home is more secure now. There are fire doors throughout. Security is enhanced—” Constance is reaching, trying to think of anything to keep us from taking her grandchildren and walking out that door.
“I don’t care about those things as much as I care about you.” There’s a shocking murmur that comes from Jon. Bryan kicks him under the table to stifle the chatter. I’m never going to get used to seeing him so serious all the time.
My gaze flicks back to Constance and then my mother. “I was raised with the belief that family is everything. Do you agree?”
Constance senses a trap, her eyes are wide, but her shoulders hunch forward as if defeated. As if a beratement is coming. “I do.”
“So then just say it.”
“What confession do you want me to admit to, Avery? That I think of you as a daughter? That I can’t stand to be here in this house alone for another second? That the echoes of laughter have brought me back to life in a way I never anticipated and I’m not ready to die yet? Or are you looking for the unconditional love that you crave so badly, no matter how much blood lies in your wake.”
The entire tone of the conversation shifts as she lays out her thoughts, one by one, followed by a barb. My mother rises, and places a hand on my shoulder, before surrendering her seat. I slip into it and take Constance’s hand.
“Yes.” I smile at her.
She glances at her aged skin and my young fingers, then back up at my face. “I’m sorry?”