The Italian's Unexpected Heir

Tonight Sylvie was washing the pans, and Enzo was drying, when the front door chimed. They both turned to each other with a puzzled look on their faces.

Sylvie was the first to speak. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“Neither am I.” Enzo set aside the pan and towel.

As he headed for the door, Sylvie dried off her hands. They didn’t get a lot of visitors at the estate now that the hotel was closed. Curiosity got the best of her and she turned for the front door.

She rushed to catch up with Enzo. But with his long legs and swift strides, she didn’t have a chance to catch him before he reached the door. So she hung back. After all, this wasn’t her home—not really. And soon she’d have to move—whether she wanted to or not.

She stood in the hallway as Enzo swung the door open. What—ahem, or should she say who—stood there was surprising, to say the least. A clown.

Like a real clown with curly, fire engine-red hair that poked out in all directions and a little black boiler hat on top. In his hand was a fistful of red ribbons leading to at least two dozen helium balloons. His face was painted white with his eyes outlined in black. And red paint had his mouth painted into a permanent smile.

When Sylvie realized her mouth was gaping she pushed her lips together, but they immediately bowed up into a smile as laughter bubbled up inside her. What in the world?

The clown wore a red jumper of sorts with a big lace collar.

Before Enzo could speak, because obviously he was having problems making sense of what he was seeing, the clown broke out into a rendition of the birthday song topped off with a little dance. Sylvie couldn’t hold back her amusement. This was just too much.

Apparently, her laughter came out louder than she’d hoped because Enzo turned to her and frowned. His grumpy scowl just made her laugh that much harder. Whoever did this had definitely caught him off guard. And then she realized who would have done this. His sisters.

Sylvie reached for her phone in her pocket and started recording. The clown danced around, sang and then bowed at the end.

Enzo didn’t say a word. The clown looked at him expectantly. Enzo stood as though he’d turned to stone. He really needed to lighten up.

Hoping to defuse the situation, Sylvie rushed forward to stand next to Enzo. She applauded the clown, who handed over the balloons to Enzo.

“Wait,” the clown said, “there’s one more thing.”

The clown rushed back to his car. Yes, it was a little clown car with a black top hat, different-colored spots all over it and a big red nose on the hood. It was quite... She couldn’t find the right word, so she settled for unusual. Sylvie wasn’t even sure how the man fit in the car.

“Did you do this?” Enzo’s voice rumbled with unhappiness.

“Oh, no.” She held up her hands as she shook her head. But the smile just wouldn’t fade from her face. This was priceless. “I had absolutely nothing to do with it. I’m innocent. I swear.”

As soon as he absorbed what she’d told him, she saw the flicker of light go on in his eyes. “My sisters. They did this.”

“That would be my guess.”

His scowl darkened. “Wait until I see them again.”

“You’ll what?” She knew it was an empty threat. He loved his sisters dearly.

She’d always longed to be a part of a bigger family. She wanted at least a sister. Someone to style hair with and paint their nails. It would have been amazing to have someone to grow up with—to share the good and the bad.

Instead, it was just her and her mother. Thank goodness they had good friends and neighbors. But it wasn’t quite the same as having brothers and sisters of her own—not to mention a father. A pang of sorrow settled in her chest.

And now, after observing Enzo and his sisters, she couldn’t help but envy their closeness, the way they teased each other and the way they pulled together. It was special. And sometimes she wondered if Enzo realized just how special a relationship he had with his sisters. Sylvie would give anything to have just a little part of that family camaraderie.

Before Enzo could answer, the clown returned with a white box. “This is for you. I hope you have a happy birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday,” Enzo said grumpily.

The clown’s forehead scrunched up. He shrugged, turned and walked away.

Enzo closed the door. “When my sisters said they had something special planned, I had no idea they’d go this far.”

Sylvie lightly elbowed him. “Lighten up. They just wanted to make you smile. Not scowl like you’re doing now.”