“I can understand that a little,” Mia replied, still confused by the estrangement of her only living close paternal relation.
“Fred and I were always gallivanting off somewhere because of his success in the advertising world. There were business trips to Paris, London, Austria, Germany, back to here, and then somewhere else again. For your parents, when you came along, it became harder for them to travel with a little one. I don’t know if you remember the year we all went to Martha’s Vineyard to visit your grandparents? You were just a little thing.” Sylvia, with her dark brown hair perfectly coiffed, looked reminiscent, a smile appearing on her face and a distant look in her green eyes.
“About four,” Mia nodded with a smile as she vaguely recalled some of her earliest memories and her paternal grandparents. “I remember a few things, but not much other than the beach and the faces of Grandma and Grandpa. We still go every year to stay at their cottage for a beach vacation, which isn’t really a cottage. More like a big country house.”
Sylvia nodded with a chuckle. “Yes, it was a nice place to grow up, and since it faced the seashore, there was always a lot to do. We would walk to the beach every afternoon to collect seashells, enjoy picnic lunches, and bask in the sun for a few hours while you played in the sand with your parents.”
Of course, there’d always been the annual Christmas card and a box of candy, or small gifts exchanged by mail. Mia didn’t remember many other calls or letters over the years. The ones that did come were few and far between.
“I haven’t seen you since you were about the age of seven. I guess we slowly grew apart.” Aunt Sylvia’s voice drifted away again, and Mia remembered. After an uncomfortable pause, her aunt added. “I didn’t make much effort to bond with your mother or keep in touch often enough with your father. We were all from different worlds, with different friends, and completely different lifestyles. Kind of a shame we let it happen.”
“I’m sure we’ll all need to work at it.” Mia glanced around the room at the marble-topped mantle and end tables, floor-to-ceiling brocade drapes, the elegant Queen Anne furniture, and the many other luxurious features of her aunt’s home. It certainly was different from life on the farm. “Well, whatever caused the rift, we will make every effort moving forward to repair and strengthen our relationships.”
“I believe we will, or so I hope. What is it your father calls your farm again?” Aunt Sylvia asked with a finely arched, raised brow. Roxy barked from her lap. “Oh, she wants to know, too.”
“Robin’s Nest,” she supplied with a smile, happy to speak of it. No need to mention she’d been struggling with issues of discontent stemming from being a mere farm girl. She’d always wondered what it would be like to not worry about money. Now, maybe she’d finally find out.
Her aunt nodded, patting Roxy. “Yes, that’s it, Robin’s Nest. I plan to visit again. I’ve only been there twice, when they’d first bought the place and then again when you were just a toddler. Do you still have horses? I meant to ask Louis—I mean Charles. Mére always called him Louis and me, Sylvie.”
“We do still have horses,” Mia answered as she thought about the French in her ancestry. “Four of the best horses in Kentucky. Sampson, Cortez, Violet, and Jane. I’ll miss riding in the mornings.” She knew her paternal grandmother had been French, brought over from Paris by her American paternal grandfather, Gregory Morgan. He’d been an accountant for one of the big eight accounting firms, working overseas on an assignment for a worldwide retail corporation when he’d met the love of his life working behind a retail cosmetics counter. Her grandmother, Madeline, had spoken only a little English at first, and her children had grown up accustomed to using the French word for mother. They were also raised to speak French and English fluently. To this day, when her father was angry, he spoke in French.
“I’m sure you will, but you might enjoy walks in Central Park,” Sylvia suggested. “I always laugh whenever Charles tells me about Jane. It’s something I do remember him mentioning a time or two. A funny name for a horse if you ask me, but what do I know about farming? I’ve been more of a city girl since business forced us to be here a lot, except when Fred and I were at the chateau in France, or visiting Martha’s Vineyard now and then. I do still make it there once a year to enjoy the beach, but it’s been hard to time it with when my brother goes. Riding was never really my thing, but I did enjoy seeing your farm when I was there, and the horses.”
“I’m certainly going to miss it while I’m here in the city,” she admitted. “I guess that’s one main difference we have, Aunt Sylvia. I’ve always been a country girl. Life in the city is all new for me.”
Her aunt sipped some of her tea and then set her cup aside. “Many of my friends spend much of their time at their country estates. I’m sure you’ll find common ground and make some new friends of your own while you’re here. I’m looking forward to taking you to visit my other homes in England and France. You do have your passport?”
“I do, and it’s another reason I chose to come to be here with you. I really enjoy travel, but it has always been a luxury and a tremendous sacrifice to be able to do so. I went on three mission trips a few years ago. I traveled to Belgium, Thailand, and Puerto Rico.”
Her aunt patted Roxy some more. “Now that you mention it, I seem to remember supporting some of your trips with a small donation. Of course I wanted to give more, but your father prevented me. He said he wanted you to know the value of the hard work and effort in raising the funds. Your thank you card impressed me, by the way. It showed good breeding.” Aunt Sylvia kept her hands folded in her lap as she talked when she wasn’t busy patting the froufrou dog.
Mia wasn’t sure she liked being referred to as having good breeding, as if she was a horse or some other animal, but she overlooked the reference, studying her aunt’s behavior. She made a mental note to remember not to wave her hands around when she spoke. “I was hoping you’d remember my mission trips. They impacted my life tremendously. I was overjoyed about each of your generous donations. I never forgot them.”
“Yes, well...enough about that. I guess I’m still shy about receiving appreciation whenever I happen to donate to a cause of almost any sort. My Fred was better about it, but I prefer to remain anonymous most of the time.” Her aunt blushed, having grown a little flustered about the discussion. Her teacup rattled in the saucer making her appear less composed. “Maybe we’ll get a trip scheduled to Kentucky for next year, finally.”
Before they could discuss any other subject, Mia wanted to ensure her aunt knew she was not looking for a husband at present. “So now you know my reasons for coming to Manhattan, not to mention it would simply make life easier to be an heiress. With financial issues out of the way, I can be independently wealthy. I won’t have to rely on a man, and I can give to missions to my heart’s content.”
Aunt Sylvia couldn’t help but smile. “At least no one can say you aren’t honest. However, I’m hoping you’ll attract an excellent, devoted husband as one of New York’s most sought after debutantes, if not the most desirable.”