Maria let out an uncomfortable laugh, for it was a clear shot across the bow.
Mrs. Wilson’s cool green eyes swept over me from head to foot. I had the distinct feeling that the woman found me lacking in every way, especially regarding my wardrobe choices. I wore skinny jeans and a light tank top under a black cardigan—a polyester-and-spandex blend, purchased at Walmart because I was on a very limited budget.
“You certainly came a long way for this,” Mrs. Wilson said with a note of accusation in her tone.
“You did as well,” I replied. “Maria mentioned you live in California?”
“Yes.” Her arched eyebrows pulled together. “And you’re from . . . ?”
“Tallahassee, Florida.”
She let go of my hand and stepped back. “I’ve never been to the Panhandle.”
“It’s nice. You should visit sometime.”
Mrs. Wilson chuckled lightly.
By now, Sofia was marching out of the room and stomping back up the stairs.
Mrs. Wilson turned to Maria. “She’s not invited to the meeting, is she?”
“No,” Maria replied. “She’s not on the list.”
“Good. I’ll need you to buck up and help me get rid of her afterward. Unless Anton did something foolish in his final days. God help us if he did, but it wouldn’t surprise me.” She glanced briefly at me again before she left the room.
Maria sank onto her chair. “Mi dispiace. I apologize.”
I sat down as well. “It’s not your fault. Was Sofia . . . ?” I pointed a finger at the empty doorway.
“Sì. Anton’s mistress. Not the first one, but she got lucky, being the one who was with him at the end. Honestly, I can’t imagine that he would have left her anything. He wasn’t a fool, and he gave her plenty while he was alive. There was some talk about a necklace that would pay for a flat in Rome for an entire year. I suppose she did deserve something for sticking around when he was cantankerous. She certainly was devoted. Although . . .” Maria shook her head disapprovingly. “The motivation is suspect, if you understand my meaning. He wasn’t a young man, and you saw her.”
“You think she was hustling him?”
“Possibly.”
Not wanting to presume anything or pass judgment, I looked down at my hands in my lap. “His ex-wife didn’t seem to like me very much.”
Maria waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about Kate. She’s heading into her third marriage, and the second husband was even richer than Anton, so she has nothing to complain about.”
“What about the children?” I asked, point-blank. “Are they going to hate me?”
“Definitely,” Maria replied, giving me a look. “But it doesn’t matter what they think. The will is what it is, so just take whatever he left you, and walk away.”
Surprised by the woman’s candor, I blinked a few times. “I appreciate the advice.”
Maria sighed in defeat. “You wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise, because this family has a talent for making life far more difficult than it has to be. Everything is a battle.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t.” Maria toyed with her earring and studied me for a moment. “Whatever happens this morning, don’t take it personally. They haven’t had a chance to come to terms with the fact that their father had another child. But really . . . I don’t see how they could be surprised. Their mother took them away to America thirty years ago. It’s not as if their father was a monk. He had many women in his life.”
Something about that statement troubled me, because I didn’t want to think of my mother as one of his many conquests. At the same time, I didn’t want to suggest anything untoward the day after the man’s funeral. But I had my suspicions.
I sat forward again. “Marco said your father-in-law, Domenico, worked in the vineyard before you and your husband took over. Would your husband’s parents know anything about what happened between Anton and my mother?”
“They might have known something, but they’re both deceased. Vincent and I came here to take over the vineyards in 1988. When was your mother here?”
“It was the summer of ’86.” When that line of questioning provided no results, I shifted direction. “What about Anton’s driver before Marco? Where is he now?”
“His name was Gordon Nucci, and he was with Anton for many years. He was living in the villa since before I started, so he might have known something as well, but he died a long time ago, which was when Marco was hired.”
Before I had a chance to ask any more questions, the doorbell chimed.
“That must be the lawyers.” Maria rose from her chair. “Stay here while I go and greet them and get them settled.”
As I watched her leave the room, my stomach flipped over at the thought of what was about to happen in the next few minutes—my first meeting with my half siblings, who probably hated my guts for being named a beneficiary in their father’s will. Nevertheless, I was curious to know what Anton had left me and how much it was worth. Judging by what I’d seen of this property so far, it could be something significant. Or not. Either way, I’d be glad to get this meeting over with.
CHAPTER 3
SLOANE
Shortly before the lawyers rang the doorbell, Sloane Richardson was having an epiphany. It happened around the back of the villa, in the vegetable garden, where the sun shone most brightly in the mornings. Perhaps it was the glorious peal of church bells ringing on the hilltop that brought it on. Or the fresh country air feeding oxygen to her brain instead of foul exhaust fumes that gave her a headache whenever the Los Angeles freeway was gridlocked and their driver couldn’t get them out of it.
“Kids, come and look at this,” she said to her children, Chloe and Evan, who were following at a distance.
Evan was ten and Chloe was seven. Neither looked up from their phones.
“Evan! Chloe!” she shouted.
“What?” Evan shouted back.
“Put your phones away, please. It’s a beautiful day. Come and see what I found.”
Chloe rolled her eyes as she followed her older brother along a row of tomato plants.
Sloane pointed at the dirt. “Look, it’s a lizard.”
They both crowded in. “Cool,” Evan said.
The lizard scurried away beneath a patch of leaves and disappeared.
“Can we catch one?” he asked.
“I suppose,” Sloane replied, “if you’re quick enough. Maybe we could come out later with a bucket. But if we catch one, we have to let him go when we’re finished looking at him, all right?”
“Can we bring him in the house?” Evan asked.
“No way, Mom!” Chloe shouted.
“Hmm,” Sloane said. “Maybe your sister’s right. Maria might not like it very much if a lizard gets loose in the kitchen.”
“I’d keep him in my room, under my bed,” Evan promised.
“We’ll see.” Sloane squeezed his shoulder, then sighed with defeat when they both returned their attention to their cell phones.
As she led them out of the tomato patch toward the olive grove, she felt as if she were walking alone. The story of her life lately.