Chapter 1 – The Baby Nobody Had Told Him About
“Vanessa, are you pregnant?”
Luca Moretti was still holding his daughter’s hand when he asked.
Vanessa looked at the twenty-eight guests seated around the dining table. Her beautiful face had gone strangely blank.
“Luca, we shouldn’t discuss this here.”
“You told my ten-year-old daughter she was losing her bedroom because we’re having a baby.”
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“Then tell me how you said it.”
Isabelle pressed herself against her father’s side.
I stood a few feet away, holding the broken pieces of Caroline Moretti’s music box in a linen napkin.
The little silver ballerina lay on top, its broken arm pointing toward the ceiling.
Vanessa looked down at her engagement ring.
“Yes,” she finally whispered. “I’m pregnant.”
Luca didn’t move.
“How long have you known?”
“Almost three weeks.”
“And you told Isabelle before you told me?”
Vanessa looked wounded.
“I was waiting for the right moment.”
“Was this supposed to be the right moment?”
“No.”
“Then why does my daughter think she’s being sent away?”
Vanessa’s composure began to crack.
“Because children misunderstand things. I told her we were going to make some changes after the wedding.”
Isabelle shook her head.
“You said the baby needed somewhere quiet.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“Isabelle, sweetheart—”
“And you said I had lots of stuff.”
Luca looked down.
“What stuff, baby?”
“Mommy’s things.”
She pointed at the broken music box.
“And my rocking chair. And the pictures on my dresser.”
Her voice grew smaller.
“You said the baby shouldn’t have to sleep in a room full of somebody else’s memories.”
Nobody spoke.
I watched Luca’s expression change.
Not because of the furniture.
Because Isabelle had repeated those words with the careful seriousness of a child who’d spent days trying to understand them.
He pulled out his chair.
“Come here.”
Isabelle climbed into his lap.
She was getting too big for it, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Listen to me, sweetheart. Nobody is taking your bedroom.”
She looked at him.
“Even if the baby comes?”
“Even then.”
“Where will the baby sleep?”
“We have plenty of rooms.”
Vanessa made a small sound.
Luca looked toward her.
“Isn’t that right?”
She didn’t answer.
He turned back to Isabelle.
“And nothing that belonged to your mother is going anywhere without your permission.”
Isabelle leaned against his chest.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
For the first time that evening, her shoulders relaxed.
But I noticed something else.
Her eyes kept drifting toward Vanessa.
As though she was afraid her father’s promise might expire when he wasn’t looking.
Luca noticed too.
He kissed her hair.
“Mrs. Carter?”
The head housekeeper stepped forward.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please have the guests shown into the drawing room. Dinner is finished.”
Vanessa looked up.
“Luca, these people came to celebrate our engagement.”
“They did.”
He glanced at the shattered music box.
“And I think they’ve seen enough.”
Within minutes, the dining room began emptying.
Susan Palmer remained near the doorway, looking deeply uncomfortable.
Luca turned toward her.
“Mrs. Palmer, I want every order involving Isabelle’s bedroom suspended.”
“Of course.”
“No furniture removed. No painters. No carpenters.”
“I understand.”
“And I want copies of everything Vanessa authorized.”
Susan hesitated.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at Vanessa.
Then nodded.
“I’ll have the project file brought here.”
Vanessa stood abruptly.
“Are you seriously going to interrogate my designer?”
“I’m trying to understand why my daughter thinks she’s losing her home.”
“She isn’t losing her home.”
“Then why was she told she would be living with someone named Helen?”
Vanessa pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“My aunt offered to take Isabelle for a little while during the renovation.”
Luca stared at her.
“Your aunt?”
“Yes. Helen Bellini. She’s a retired schoolteacher. She lives outside Chicago.”
“You’ve never introduced her to Isabelle.”
“She visited yesterday.”
“Without telling me?”
“You were working.”
Luca gave a short, humorless laugh.
“I live in this house, Vanessa.”
“I know.”
“Then why does everybody seem to know more about what’s happening to my daughter than I do?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“Because you’re never here long enough to have these conversations!”
The words surprised everyone.
Including Luca.
For a moment, I thought he might argue.
Instead, he looked down at Isabelle.
She was tracing the tattoo across his hand with one finger.
He swallowed.
“We’ll discuss that,” he said quietly. “But not as an excuse for making decisions about her without me.”
Vanessa looked away.
I began collecting the broken porcelain.
Isabelle watched carefully.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Did you find the little key?”
I checked the napkin.
The music box’s winding key was missing.
“I haven’t yet.”
She looked frightened.
“Mommy always said not to lose it.”
“We’ll look for it.”
I crouched beside the table and examined the marble floor.
Beneath Vanessa’s chair, something caught the chandelier light.
A tiny brass key.
I picked it up.
“Found it.”
Isabelle smiled.
Only a little.
But it was the first real smile I’d seen from her all evening.
I placed the key beside the ballerina.
Then Luca turned to me.
“Charlotte, would you stay a moment?”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes, sir.”
Vanessa looked immediately suspicious.
“Why?”
“Because Charlotte was here when I wasn’t.”
He looked toward me.
“Have there been other changes Isabelle was upset about?”
I hesitated.
I thought about my father’s mortgage.
About the warning Vanessa had given me that afternoon.
But I also thought about the way Isabelle had asked whether she could keep her own dresser.
“There have been boxes delivered to the upstairs hallway,” I said.
Vanessa stiffened.
“Those are wedding supplies.”
“Some are, ma’am.”
Luca studied me.
“And the others?”
“Wardrobe cartons. Children’s storage labels. Packing materials.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Charlotte, you’ve been very confused about your responsibilities lately.”
Luca’s voice hardened.
“Let her finish.”
I looked toward Isabelle.
She was watching me with wide, frightened eyes.
“Yesterday,” I said, “Miss Bellini asked me to pack Isabelle’s winter clothes.”
Luca frowned.
“For storage?”
“I assumed so.”
“And?”
“She said to leave out enough for one week.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
I continued.
“When I asked where the rest should go, she said somebody else would be collecting them.”
Luca looked at his fiancée.
“Who?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Helen.”
Isabelle suddenly sat upright.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?”
She looked terrified.
“Are you mad at me?”
His expression softened immediately.
“No. Why would I be?”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to tell you about Aunt Helen yet.”
Luca went very still.
“Who told you that?”
Isabelle looked toward Vanessa.
Then whispered:
“She said if I spoiled the surprise, you might change your mind about letting me come home.”
Share
