Sudden Legacy (25 page)

“Hello,” I said in greeting, belatedly wondering if he spoke English. “I’m Lara.”

“
Buon giorno
Lara. Nice to meet you,” he answered with a friendly smile. “I am Savio”

I tried not to do a double-take at his smile. It really was uncanny how much he looked like Julien. So this was Marla’s new pet. She certainly had specific taste in men.
Compensating much, Marla?
I thought, then quickly felt ashamed at my pettiness. As if summoned by my uncharitable thoughts, Marla herself breezed into the study. Seeing Savio and me engaged in conversation she wasted no time in starting her scathing remarks.

“Don’t bother, Lara,” she said with condescension, “This one isn’t rich.”

I returned her fake smile. “Good morning, Marla. Still as charming as ever, I see.” Her acidic retort was interrupted by Julien coming down the hall, Alex atop his shoulders and Nan and Pops at his heels. Marla drew in a sharp breath at the sight of him with his son. His wound was healing beautifully, and already he no longer kept it wrapped in gauze. Alex was very impressed with the dramatic slash of stitching across Julien’s bi-cep. It peeked out from beneath the short sleeves of his polo shirt as he raised his arms above his head to steady his passenger.

I had told Nan all about Marla and her role in duping Julien and me. She was vibrating with excitement as she stood in the entryway, correctly deducing Marla’s identity based on my description. She had a current of energy coursing through her like a terrier facing a Rottweiler. She had no idea she was the smaller animal or that the fight was unfair. Pops recognized Nan’s change immediately. He swooped Alex backwards off Julien’s shoulders and hustled Nan along. “Alrighty. We’ll just go on to breakfast,” he declared, dragging Nan away from the scene in the study.

“You must be Marla’s companion,” Julien said, offering Savio his hand. “I’m Julien. It is a pleasure to meet you.” I always found it hard not to swoon when Julien used his impeccable manners when it would be completely understandable for him to play the part of the petulant child.

Savio gave Julien a firm handshake. “I am Savio. The pleasure is all mine. I was about to tell your beautiful wife how lovely I found your home.”

“She’s not his wife,” snapped Marla.

Julien ignored her outburst and answered Savio. “Thank you. You are a welcome guest in my home, though I must say, you keep dubious company.”

My jaw dropped. That was a blatant insult directed toward Marla. Marla folded her arms and puffed out a burst of air. “Yes. How wicked of me to hold your best interests to heart.”

Julien turned a cold glare on Marla. “What constitutes my best interests are not for you to decide.” He turned back to Savio. “Be wary of this woman, Savio. She is conniving and self-serving and should not be trusted.”

Savio looked warily from Julien to Marla, and back to Julien again, unsure how to respond.

“She is admittedly clever.” He turned to Marla again. “I’ve been wanting to ask you how you did it. How did you trick us into believing the other would not take our calls?”

I caught myself unconsciously leaning forward in an effort to capture her every word. This woman had single-handedly crushed my joy, and like a tongue that couldn’t help but worry a sore tooth, I too wanted to know how she had done it.

Marla savored the moment. She waited a beat as if contemplating whether or not she would tell us, then she settled herself on a settee and flicked her hair over her shoulder. Like a killer on his deathbed admitting to his murders in order to receive proper credit, she was enjoying a perverse pleasure at sharing her cunning tricks.

“It was a simple matter of securing a phone number similar to Lara’s, recording her outgoing message, and using it as the outgoing message for the new number.” Marla shrugged her delicate shoulders. “I changed her contact listing in your phone to my new, similar number, and I blocked her real number from your phone so she would get a service message if she tried calling. You never noticed the number change. You never thought twice about it.”

“Why would he?” I asked. “He’s a
sane
person. Who would
do
that?”

Marla turned her raptor gaze on me. “Someone concerned with his future. Someone that recognized his worth, and the fact that he is far too valuable to be lost to a silly little girl like you.”

I saw true venomous hatred for me in her eyes. How easy it had been for her to toss us asunder. How little fight either of us put up. I recalled in vivid detail that first text from Julien - no, Marla. It would have been Marla from the start.

L, I upgraded my phone. My old number no longer works. This is my new number and the best way to reach me. I hope your flight was comfortable. J.

I frowned at my cell phone screen. The text seemed so curt and impersonal. Not like Julien at all. I scrolled through my missed calls until I found his missed call from the day I gave him my number. I hesitated a fraction of a second, thinking about international charges, then I pressed the call button. It only rang once, then clicked to a message in Italian followed by three shrill beeps. I didn’t speak Italian, but I recognized a disconnected number when I heard one. I clicked back to his text. Maybe he was one of those people that didn’t communicate well through written word. I pecked out a response.

My flight was fine. I missed you the second I entered the airport. I am counting the days until Thanksgiving. I hope your new phone gets reception at sea! I love you.

I hit send, and stupidly stared at the screen for a full minute, hoping to get an immediate response. The phone remained lifeless. I sighed and slipped it into my pocket. It would be days before I would get a response, and that response was just as bland and unemotional as the first message had been.

This phone has limited reception as well.

The text had come some time during the night. I didn’t bother attempting to figure out what time it was in France. I hit the call button. I sagged in defeat as it went to voicemail, then my heart skittered erratically as Julien’s silky voice greeted me in Italian, then again in French. Finally a short “You have reached Julien Diotallevi, please leave a message at the signal,” in English.

I was suddenly shy. I didn’t know what to say. I swallowed around my dry, clumsy tongue. “Uh... Julien, hi, it’s me, Lara. I got your text.” I felt very foolish talking into the phone. His texts had made me feel like a bothersome child; a nuisance. I tried for an air of nonchalance. “Give me a call back when you get this.” Panicking, I hung up without saying anything more.

I returned Marla’s glare full force. She was a cunning bitch; I would give her that. Now that she had explained how she had done it, it seemed a painfully obvious ruse. How stupid we had been. How absurd that we let our tender egos convince us the love we felt from each other was false. She narrowed her eyes at me. They were calculating eyes - the eyes of a predator. Something in my brain clicked into place. In all the excitement I had overlooked a glaringly obvious fact. How had this not occurred to me before? I turned to Julien and spoke in a calm, deep voice.

“The assassins. They knew. They knew about Alex before you did. They were at his daycare when you arrived on my doorstep, never having known of him.”

“Yeeees?” Julien looked at me curiously, waiting for me to explain why my tardy epiphany was relevant.

“Don’t you see? It’s her!” I pointed at Marla, who just sat on the settee with her perfect posture and her perky breasts, looking bored with the ramblings of the resident charity case. “She’s the only one who knew about Alex being your son. She was the only one who could have told them.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Marla looked down her nose at me. “I was far from the only person that knew about Julien’s bastard child.” Julien frowned, but Marla kept talking. “My
directeur des finances
that wired you your monthly child support knew not only your connection to Julien, but your address. Not to mention the countless
personnes grossiers
you told about the absentee father of your
bâtard
.”

I deflated a bit, realizing she was right. Many people could have figured out Alex’s connection to Julien. Julien put a comforting arm over my shoulder. Marla regarded the gesture as if he were stroking a rancid carcass. “Martin and I thought of all these things,
Chérie
. Naturally Marla was the first person we would question considering the timing of everything. We spoke last night.”

“Yes.” Marla lifted her upper lip in a sneer. “And I have already told them how I acted with your brat’s best interest in mind.”

I frowned in confusion, waiting for her to elaborate. She sighed in exasperation and looked at Julien. “You haven’t told her any of this?”

Julien pressed his lips together. “I didn’t see the point. We’ve already moved on in the puzzle.”

I was getting impatient. “Would one of you please tell me what the hell I’m missing?”

Julien squeezed my shoulder, clearly recognizing my rising ire. “Two men came to see Marla. They said I was in danger, along with any close relatives. She told them of Alex in an attempt to protect him.”

“How was I to know that
they
were the danger?” Marla tossed her hair with a sharp twitch of her head. “I did tell Julien, though. Not about the child of course, but about the danger. He assumed it was to do with his business dealings and didn’t seem too worried, so,” she shrugged her model-perfect shoulders “I thought nothing else of it.”

I took a moment to process this new information. I didn’t want to believe her, but I did. Deep down I knew she wouldn’t intentionally hurt Julien, no matter how much she hated me. “I see,” I said softly. “I apologize for the implication.” That was the best I could manage for an apology. I thought my suspicion more than justified considering I hadn’t been told about the mystery men approaching Marla.

Savio cleared his throat, startling me. I had forgotten he was in the room. He politely excused himself and Marla to go to breakfast and give Julien and me a moment of privacy.

I was angry and embarrassed and didn’t know quite what to do with myself. I pulled away from Julien’s half embrace and wandered back over to the shelf of soapstone figurines that had so captivated Savio before I came in. They looked to be crude carvings of animals; nothing at all extraordinary. The filigree frame sitting next to the carvings was much more interesting in my opinion. It housed an old photograph of Julien and a handsome woman standing on a bank of steps. No, it couldn’t be Julien. This picture was much too old. It had to be a young Giovani. Julien noticed my interest in the photo. “That’s my father and
Nonna
Vera on the steps of the orphanage.”

“The orphanage? You’re father must be fifteen in this picture!” I snatched the small frame off the shelf to get a closer look.

Julien nodded. “About that, I guess.”

“I thought you said
Nonna
was your father’s nanny. If he was adopted at fifteen he was much too old for a nanny.”

Julien laughed. “I would think so! My father wasn’t ever adopted. He spent his entire childhood in
l’orfanotrofio
. That is why he still carries the Diotallevi name. Had he been adopted, he would have taken the name of the family that adopted him.”

“And
Nonna
?”

“
Nonna
was a nurse at
l'orfanotrofio.
She was the closest thing my father ever had to a mother. They kept in touch after he left
l'orfanotrofio.
She was a guest at my parents’ wedding - the only one on the groom’s side. When my mother told my father of my impending arrival, he used it as an excuse to hire
Nonna
as a nursemaid. As I told you yesterday, she has been with our family ever since.”

I nodded in thought and gently placed the frame back in its spot next to the soapstone figurines. I lowered my eyes and spoke softly, not wanting to start a fight, but wanting to be heard. “I wish you had told me about the men and Marla. It was humiliating having her think you don’t confide in me.”