Chapter 4 – The Woman Called Aunt Helen

“Duration?”

Luca looked directly at Vanessa.

“What duration were you planning not to discuss with my daughter?”

Vanessa reached for the paper.

“Let me see that.”

He held it out.

She read the note.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she looked toward Isabelle.

“This isn’t something we should discuss in front of her.”

Luca’s face tightened.

“You were prepared to send her away without explaining how long she’d be gone.”

“I wanted to spare her unnecessary anxiety.”

Isabelle looked up.

“Was I going to stay a long time?”

Vanessa’s expression softened.

“Sweetheart, nobody was trying to hurt you.”

“That isn’t what she asked,” Luca said.

Vanessa closed her eyes.

“I didn’t know exactly how long the renovations would take.”

Susan spoke carefully.

“The bedroom work was scheduled for nine working days.”

Luca looked toward her.

“Nine days?”

“Yes.”

He turned back to Vanessa.

“Then why does this document say the placement would be reviewed after the wedding?”

Vanessa didn’t answer.

The wedding was six weeks away.

I watched Luca make the calculation.

So did Isabelle.

Her face went white.

“Six weeks?”

Vanessa immediately stepped forward.

“Isabelle, no. That’s not necessarily—”

“Six weeks is almost Christmas.”

She looked at her father.

“Daddy, would I come home for Christmas?”

Luca pulled her against him.

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

She nodded.

But I could feel how frightened she remained.

Mrs. Carter had been standing quietly near the door.

Now she spoke.

“Mr. Moretti, may I say something?”

“Of course.”

“I believe Miss Bellini’s aunt is expected here tomorrow.”

Vanessa turned sharply.

“How do you know that?”

Mrs. Carter looked surprised.

“Her room was reserved through Friday. You asked us to prepare the small guest suite.”

Luca looked at Vanessa.

“You invited Helen here?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“To help Isabelle become comfortable with the idea of visiting her.”

He stared at her.

“You arranged all of this before discussing it with me.”

“I was going to discuss it with you.”

“When?”

She didn’t answer.

Isabelle slid off the rocking chair.

“Daddy, I’m tired.”

The words were quiet.

But they immediately changed his expression.

He looked at the clock.

It was almost eleven.

She should have been asleep hours ago.

“Of course you are.”

He turned to me.

“Charlotte, would you help Isabelle get ready for bed?”

I hesitated.

“Of course, sir.”

Isabelle caught his hand.

“Will you stay?”

Luca looked at her.

“Yes.”

“Until I’m asleep?”

“Yes.”

She nodded.

He turned toward Vanessa.

“We’re finished discussing this tonight.”

Vanessa looked hurt.

“Luca, we need to talk about the baby.”

“We will.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. After Isabelle has had some sleep.”

Vanessa folded her arms.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

He looked at her.

“Neither can I.”

I helped Isabelle into her pajamas while Luca waited beside the window.

Mrs. Carter quietly removed the packing cartons from the hallway.

The purple suitcase remained open on the bed.

Isabelle looked at it.

“Can we put my clothes back?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

She began unpacking.

Slowly.

Carefully.

As though each sweater needed permission to return.

When she reached the stuffed rabbit, she held it to her chest.

Then she looked at Luca.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can Bunny stay too?”

He knelt beside the bed.

“Bunny lives here.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

After Isabelle was asleep, Luca remained in the rocking chair for a long time.

I stood near the doorway, uncertain whether I should leave.

Finally, he spoke.

“Charlotte.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Was she frightened before tonight?”

I looked at the sleeping child.

“Yes.”

He lowered his head.

“How long?”

I hesitated.

“Several weeks.”

He closed his eyes.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

The question wasn’t angry.

That made it harder.

“Mrs. Carter tried to mention the packing plans last week,” I said.

He looked up.

“What happened?”

“Miss Bellini said you’d approved everything.”

He nodded slowly.

“And you believed her.”

“We were told she handled the household decisions.”

He looked toward the door.

“That was my mistake.”

I didn’t disagree.

He studied the little girl beneath the blanket.

“What was Caroline like with her when she was frightened?”

The question surprised me.

I’d never met his wife.

“I don’t know, sir.”

He gave a sad smile.

“Of course you don’t.”

Then he looked at the old rocking chair.

“She used to sing until Isabelle stopped shaking.”

He rubbed his face.

“After Caroline died, I couldn’t bring myself to sing those songs.”

I glanced at the broken music box on the dresser.

“Maybe you could try again.”

He looked at me.

“I don’t remember all the words.”

“Maybe Isabelle does.”

He was silent for a long moment.

Then he nodded.

The next morning, Helen Bellini arrived shortly after breakfast.

She was sixty-two, with short gray hair and a navy wool coat.

She didn’t look like the sort of woman I’d expected.

She carried a small canvas bag and a tin of homemade cookies.

When I admitted her into the drawing room, she smiled.

“You must be Charlotte.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Vanessa says you’re very good with Isabelle.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Helen noticed my hesitation.

Her smile faded.

“Is something wrong?”

Before I could answer, Luca entered.

“Mrs. Bellini.”

Helen stood.

“Mr. Moretti.”

“I understand you were planning to have my daughter stay with you.”

She looked confused.

“Yes. Vanessa said you wanted Isabelle to spend some time away from the house.”

“I never agreed to that.”

Helen’s face changed.

She slowly lowered herself into a chair.

“Oh, dear.”

Luca sat opposite her.

“What exactly were you told?”

Helen opened her canvas bag.

Inside was a folder.

“I was told Isabelle needed a quiet place while the family adjusted to the marriage.”

“For how long?”

Helen hesitated.

“Vanessa said initially it would be a few weeks.”

“Initially?”

She nodded.

“Then she asked whether I would consider something longer.”

Luca stared at her.

“How much longer?”

Helen looked down at the folder.

Finally, she answered:

“She asked whether Isabelle could live with me until she was old enough for boarding school.”

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