“Do you want Anna and Frank to come?”
“Is that okay?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, I’ll call Anna now.” I laugh. “I’m just so excited.”
“Congratulations.”
“I have next week off so I might go home and see Mom for a few days, maybe you could meet me in Milan for the weekend?” I offer. “If I go Tuesday, you could meet me there on Friday and we’ll fly home together on Sunday night or something?”
“Yeah, okay, that sounds fun.”
I smile, excited. “See you tonight?”
“Goodbye.”
* * *
Cordoni’s is bustling and busy, the restaurant is semi-lit with a tantric beat being pumped through speakers, it has a trendy European vibe.
There’s a cocktail bar and a dance floor and the restaurant spans over three stories. Frank and Marcel are friends, they met through Anna and me but are happy to hang out together, which makes life a lot easier for us.
They are at the bar getting our next drinks and Anna and I are sitting at the table, we are on our fifth margarita.
Liquid gold.
“Oh my God, I feel drunk.” Anna hiccups.
“Right?” I whisper. “I’m seriously a lightweight now.”
“Wow.” Anna’s eyes widen. “Look at that guy over there.”
“Where?”
“At the table over there.” She gestures with her glass and I casually look over.
A tall, dark and handsome man has just sat down. “Yum.” I smile as I watch him.
“So hot.”
“He is.” I swoon. “You have to admit it; Italian men are the hottest race in the world,” I whisper.
“Undoubtedly.” We both watch him for a moment. “Do you reckon that’s his wife?” she asks.
“Well, if he’s Italian, it’s probably his mistress,” I murmur into my drink.
Anna laughs, we have a constant running joke about mistresses, my father scarred us both for life. In my family no man has ever been faithful to his wife, it’s pushed me to lose faith in Italian men.
My phone vibrates on the table and the name Mom lights up the screen.
“I’ll quickly take this,” I say as I answer. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, darling.” She smiles. “Where are you, sounds noisy.”
“In a restaurant,” I reply, there’s no point telling her about the account we won today, she doesn’t care about my work. “What are you up to?”
“Angelina Linden died today.”
My face falls. “What?”
Suddenly the restaurant is way too loud and I need to hear what she has to say. I hold my finger up to Anna, “Back in a minute,” I mouth, I stand and rush from the restaurant and out onto the street. “What do you mean?” I reply.
“Angelina Linden died.”
“When?”
“Today.”
“How?”
“She had a cerebral hemorrhage, collapsed on the spot. It was sudden with no warning signs at all.”
“Oh no.” My heart sinks. “Was she alone?”
“She had her two guards with her, she was rushed to hospital by ambulance, but unfortunately she died a few hours later.”
“She was so young.”
“Only sixty-one.”
I stay silent on the line as I try to process the information.
God….
“I just thought you should know.”
“How’s Lorenzo?” I ask, “He and she were always so close.”
“Distraught. There are men crying everywhere here.”
Giuliano.
I stay silent, unsure what to say, my mind is running a million miles per minute.
“When’s the funeral?” I ask.
“No idea. I’ll let you go sweetie.”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” I hang up and stand still on the pavement in shock. It’s dark and people are rushing past on the busy street but my mind is a jumble of confusion, sadness and shock.
What the hell?
She was so full of life, why would she be taken so young? It’s just not fair.
Life can be so cruel.
I stay outside alone for a few minutes, for some reason, I feel like I need to show my respect for a woman who changed my father’s life.
He loved her and she loved him.
And now, she’s gone too.
Giuliano.
My heart sinks in sadness, he’d be so devastated.
I trudge back into the restaurant and sit back at the table, Marcel and Frank are back at the table now.
“Everything alright?” Marcel asks.
“Oh….” I frown as I try to collect my thoughts. “Angelina Linden died.”
“Oh my God,” Anna gasps.
“Who’s that?” Marcel asks.
“My half-brother’s mother.”
Frank frowns, confused.
“Long story.” I roll my eyes as I sip my drink. Marcel doesn’t know about my family’s roots, I’ve kept them from him. It hasn’t been easy.
The table all carry on with their conversation and I sit and stare into space, my thoughts are in Lake Como in Italy. I imagine Angelina’s house and what must be going on there now.
Her friends, the guards, the crying. The broken hearts.
Giuliano.
* * *
Bianca Ferrara is a beautiful woman; my mother turns heads wherever she goes. We sit in her favorite restaurant in Milan.
“This caviar is to die for.” She smiles. “You should have some, dear.”
I wince. “It’s not my thing.” I sip my champagne and steel myself for the oncoming onslaught. “I’m going to go to Angelina Linden’s funeral tomorrow.”