Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Don’t go there, Zola! For the love of God don’t go there.
Putting him firmly out of my mind, I changed into one of my father’s oversized T-shirts. There was a time I’d made a habit of wearing his shirts, but not since I moved out. As I went down to the kitchen, I recalled how he would sometimes feign annoyance, especially if I wore one of his favorite ones, but never once did he ever forbid me.
The empty lemon-scented refrigerator reminded me the house was a food desert. Dante said he would take care of it, but it was only nine o’clock so it was probably too early to expect groceries. I returned to my father’s room to check on my leftover pizza, but when I took in the two congealed hardened slices, I instantly lost my appetite.
A message pinged on my phone. It was from Dante.
Groceries are outside the front door. Don’t hesitate to contact my secretary or me if you need anything at all.
I reread his message and wondered how long he aimed to keep this up. I needed to speak to him. I wasn’t comfortable about the responsibility he was forcing upon himself in order to ensure my welfare. I headed over to the front door and through the peephole, saw three sturdy bags stuffed with food and vegetables.
Chapter 16
Zola
Itook the bags with me to the kitchen, interested to see what he had gotten. It was a bonanza of food: organic eggs, deli bread, specialty cheeses, farm-reared pork sausages, handmade pasta in a box, apples, melon, strawberries, bars of dark and milk chocolate with pieces of orange rind, hazelnut cookies, orange juice, and basically everything I could need to cook myself a big breakfast. I tried but couldn’t find any reason to reject the gesture.
I quickly sent him a new message.
Thank you. Please send me the receipt so I can pay you back.
I set the phone aside and got to work quickly whipping up some scrambled eggs and toast. After losing most of my pizza in the toilet last night I was very hungry, but when the meal was cooked and I’d sat at the table to eat, my appetite suddenly deserted me. The sound of the fork scratching on the plate echoed and stopped as I put it down.
Around me was a strange stillness and silence gathered. My father’s big, vital presence was gone. There was no longer any life in this place, only ghosts, and it made me realize just how alone I was. All I had was a big, empty house and absolutely no one who loved me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to cry … this was too devastating an event to cry over so I held back my terrible sorrow and began to eat.
But I couldn’t.
As I moved my food around my plate, I recalled vividly the sound and sights of my father heading out to work, or even the housekeeper Catalina keeping busy, my eyes burned with unshed tears. I stopped picking at my food and tossed it into the bin.
I knew I should put the groceries away, but I didn’t have the energy for that. I left the kitchen and went up to my old room. There was some familiarity and warmth to it in the daytime. As I lay on my bed, I came to the conclusion I needed a new beginning or at least, a change, or else I was going to lose my mind.
I called my father’s secretary, Rosa’s cell phone.
She immediately picked up, sounding surprised but relieved to hear from me which made me realize I hadn’t even found out if she still worked at the firm.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” she asked.
“I’m doing okay. Um … I’m sorry I haven’t been on top of things lately and I also wanted to thank you immensely for helping me organize the funeral.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
“Do you, um … still work at the firm?”
“Yes, I do. I was reassigned to a different department, but I’m still in charge of your father’s affairs until I’ve passed everything over to you.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I apologized. “I’ve delayed things, haven’t I?”
“Not at all. Take your time and when you’re ready, we can resolve what we need to. I got a call by the way from Mr. Moretti. He explained the situation to us and asked us to send the estate lawyer over to the house and arrange all meetings there for safety purposes. Is that alright with you?”
“It’s fine, but don’t I have to come in personally for any reason?”
“Our doors are always open for you, but if you prefer, I can send his things to his home.”
Once again, I choked up, but I managed to hold on for a few minutes longer. “No, I’ll come and pick them up. I want to be in his office one last time,” I replied.