“Thank you,” Mr. Barsetti said. “That’s very kind of you.” His arm circled my waist, and he patted me on the back.
Mrs. Barsetti came next and hugged me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “You look beautiful, Sapphire. That blue dress is perfect for you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Conway got it for me.”
“I’m glad my son has great taste,” she said. “And not just in clothes.” They moved to Carter next and greeted him with the same affection that they greeted their own kids. I watched them interact, feeling a distant pain in my chest.
I wasn’t a jealous person. The only time I felt it was when I saw Conway with other women. But now I felt it in a whole new way. I was jealous of the love of this family, the way they were bonded together so deeply.
Conway circled his arm around my waist, his face pressed to mine. “What’s wrong, Muse?”
“Nothing.” I turned back to him and smiled.
When he didn’t smile back, I knew he didn’t believe me. “I’ll ask again later. But you’ll answer me next time.”
* * *
We sat in a large dining room that could easily accommodate fifty guests if they had a bigger table. A big window overlooked the yard, the large oak trees and the vineyards in the background. The landscape reminded me of Conway’s home, and the resemblance wasn’t a coincidence.
Conway had obviously had a happy childhood.
His uncle Cane and aunt Adelina were there as well. Cane bore a startling resemblance to Mr. Barsetti, the same facial features and the same build. His demeanor wasn’t quite as rough as Mr. Barsetti’s. He had a more playful attitude. Adelina was gorgeous just the way Conway’s mother was. Even at an older age, she was still remarkably pretty. It didn’t surprise me that Conway and Carter turned out to be two of the most handsome men I’d ever seen.
An older gentleman served us, bringing us a first course of salad and bread, and then the entrees. Despite his age, he still held himself upright. He moved a little slower than the average person, but he didn’t seem upset to still be working.
Mrs. Barsetti caught me staring at Lars. “He’s been in the family for a long time. He used to take care of Crow when he was a boy.”
“Wow,” I said. “So he’s like family.”
“No,” Mr. Barsetti said. “He is family.”
“We’ve encouraged him to retire, but he said he doesn’t want to.” Mrs. Barsetti held her glass of wine, her dark hair pulled back to reveal her slender neck and the necklace she wore. There was an ordinary button hanging from the chain. “Says without a purpose he would be lost. But we hired a few extra people to give him a hand. Now he takes a midday nap and goes to bed immediately after dinner.”
“Does he live here?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “He has his own bedroom on the bottom floor. My husband and I are on the third floor, so he pretty much has the house to himself.”
Being a butler sounded like a pretty good gig. But I assumed if Lars lived at the house, he didn’t have a family of his own to go to. Maybe he didn’t have children either. The fact that the Barsettis had adopted this old man only made me love them more. They were the family that Lars needed to have. Now I knew where Conway inherited his compassion—from his parents.
“How do you like Dante?” Mrs. Barsetti asked.
“He’s an exceptional chef,” I said. “But when I first moved in, he didn’t like me.”
“He didn’t?” Mr. Barsetti asked. “How could he not?”
“She’s not explaining the whole story.” Conway sat beside me, holding his utensils without cutting into his chicken. “When she first moved in with me, she didn’t understand how to be waited on. So she would try to make her own lunch and do her own laundry.”
“So?” I asked. “I felt bad having this man do stuff for me when I’m capable of doing it myself.”
Mrs. Barsetti smiled. “You remind me of myself. I did the same thing when I first moved in with Crow.”
“But she has a good point,” Vanessa said. “It’s strange to have someone do stuff for you. It makes you lazy. I didn’t learn how to make a sandwich until I went to university. I didn’t even know how to do my own laundry. That first week was rough…”
Mrs. Barsetti chuckled. “At least you learned.” She turned her gaze on her son, her look innately soft. “How’s work been, Con?”
Just as he did when he was at home, he used perfect table manners. He held himself perfectly straight, his elbows off the table and his movements silent. “Never better. I’m getting ready for a new product line in a few weeks.”