Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Angelo gives me another peck on the cheek before ushering them down the hallway.
When he’s gone, Mattie gives me a knowing grin.
“What?” I say, raising my shoulders.
“Nothing,” she replies, her grin intact.
During the day, I have more visitors, which makes me glad I asked Mattie to wash my hair. Fabien stops by after lunch with a huge bouquet of handmade chocolates and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. He entertains my mom, Celeste, and Mattie with stories of his world-famous clients, boasting that he even shopped for the queen of England and the prince of Monaco.
Roch swings by in the late afternoon, walking with crutches. Heidi serves tea in the lounge area of the room. Angelo considerately gives us a moment, excusing himself to fetch the kids from school.
“I wanted to say thank you—” I start.
“No thanks needed.” He shifts into a more comfortable position on the chair. “I’m glad to see you looking so good.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” I tease before turning serious again. “You saved my life and almost sacrificed yours in the process.”
“We’re both alive. That’s what matters.” He pins me with a look. “Do you understand?”
I know what he’s trying to tell me. I give him the same reply I gave Angelo. “I don’t break as easily as that.”
“No.” His mouth curves into a smile. “You don’t.”
“Angelo said he asked you to work for him again.”
“He knows why I won’t.”
“Congratulations.” I lean over and squeeze his arm. “I’m really happy for you, Roch.”
“Thanks.” He coughs and looks away. “I’m sorry about—”
“I know.”
When he meets my gaze again, the light in his eyes is compassionate. “You can always try—”
“Yes. Someday, maybe.”
He nods.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” I ask, making my voice bright.
He winces. “I’d prefer a whisky, to be honest.”
“Same here. I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine.”
He sighs. “Yup.”
“But doctor’s orders.”
“Soon,” he says with meaning.
We both know he’s referring to so much more than whisky and wine.
“Soon,” I agree.
I follow suit when he gets to his feet with a grunt.
Picking up his crutches, he says, “I guess I’ll see you at school.”
“I guess you will.”
“Then I’ll see you around, Sabella,” he says on his way to the door.
My mom and Mattie enter just as he exits. They must’ve waited in front of the door.
“Who’s that man?” Mom whispers, staring after him.
It’s a lot more complicated than telling her he’s the man who saved me. That he shot those men. That we’ll always share a part of what happened, and that it’s comforting in a strange way to have someone as unpretentious as Roch who won’t make a fuss to carry that burden with me.
“Bella?” Mom says, her brow pleated.
“He worked for Angelo, but he’s Johan’s teacher now.”
“Oh,” Mom says. “How kind of him to visit you when he’s on crutches himself. A blond woman drove him. I was just returning from a walk around the garden with Brad when they arrived.” She muses, “I wonder why she stayed in the car,” before asking, “What happened to him?”
“Accident,” I say. “Heidi made tea. Would you like a cup?”
“I’ll pour,” Mattie says.
“Where’s Celeste?” I ask. “Wouldn’t she like to join us?”
“Ryan took her and Brad for a drive along the coast,” Mom says, taking the cup Mattie hands her. “Brad wouldn’t nap, and a car ride always lulls him to sleep.” Her expression turns far-off. “This feels a little like the old days.”
Mom launches into telling funny stories from our childhood days, reminding us how Mattie served Uncle Fred and Aunt Judith water from the fountain in front of the house when she was little, and how they only discovered it after they’d drunk it. Aunt Judith was too polite to say anything, but Uncle Fred asked Mom why the water tasted so foul. To add insult to injury, they found a couple of slimy frogs in the fountain.
“How are they by the way?” I ask.
Mom waves a hand. “Judith is a patron at the performing arts council of Cape Town now. It keeps her busy. Fred is Fred, still playing golf and counting his money every night.”
We talk a little more until Angelo returns. He pops his head around the door to tell me the kids are having a snack in the kitchen.
“I wanted to see if you needed anything.” He glances at Mom and Mattie. “But I see you’re well looked after.”
“Excuse me,” I say when he’s gone. “I want to check on the kids. I’m worried about Sophie.”
“Mattie told me,” Mom says, getting to her feet. “Those kids need some love and cuddles. I told the boys I’d make pancakes for breakfast tomorrow. Guillaume told me he wants to learn to play the piano.”
“His music teacher really inspired him.”
“We should find him a piano teacher.” Mom straightens her shoulders. “I’m going to look into it today. All the more reason for shipping your piano over.”