Taking care of an infant who did not sleep through the night by any stretch was far more taxing than she'd expected. Annette could not nap while Jo-Jo did during the day, because then she was busy with her sister. Joyce had confided to Annette only yesterday that she'd had thoughts of harming herself and the baby.
Annette was trying to convince both Joyce and Fantino that the new mom needed professional help. Until then, she was doing her best, with the help of the mansion's staff, to make sure that neither the baby, nor Joyce, were left alone. The stress was taking its toll and Annette felt constantly nauseated and tired.
She still hadn't talked to Carlo about the move, but she planned to change that tonight. They had a video chat scheduled, but instead of having cybersex, they were going to talk.
Joyce had Fantino's promise that he would stay with his wife and not disappear into his study for work, after dinner. Annette had a baby monitor set up in Jo-Jo's room, so she could hear if the baby cried. With her preparations in place, she shut the door to her room and got comfy in an armchair by the window, tucking her feet under her.
Her guestroom was on the west side, and if it had been earlier, she would have had a gorgeous view of the sunset as she sipped a cup of herbal tea and waited for Carlo's call. As it was, she stared out into the inky blackness of a winter night too cloudy for stars.
When her phone buzzed, she swiped to answer, the video taking a moment longer to connect than a voice call.
From the angle, it was obvious Carlo had his phone in a stand that would allow him hands free movement, but she held hers close so her face took up most of the screen. "Hi, Carlo."
"Bèdda mia, it is good to see you."
"It's good to see you too." She realized how true the words were as she said them.
Just seeing Carlo's capable and handsome face on her phone screen gave her a sense of calm that had been missing for the past week. She wasn't alone. He would have an idea of what to do, how to convince both Joyce and Fantino to get Joyce help.
Both were equally intransigent about therapy and the need for it.
That was for other people. Joyce could sort her own problems. Or so they assured Annette. The fact Annette had spent three years in therapy after moving to Portland was seen as unfortunate, not the shining example of rational behavior she'd hoped they might acknowledge it.
Joyce simply said she thought her sister should be able to help her then.
Neither wanted to admit that Joyce was suffering any sort of depression. And Annette was no professional. Despite all the training she'd taken to work with at risk youth, Annette wasn't about to diagnose her sister with postpartum depression, but she desperately wanted Joyce to see someone who could determine if that was the cause of her sister's doldrums and frightening thoughts.
"You look contemplative," Carlo said.
"I am." She sighed. "We need to talk about Joyce and Fantino."
He frowned, his body tensing. "No."
"What do you mean, no? I need your advice." Maybe even his help. He could talk to Fantino, couldn't he?
Tell his younger brother that there was nothing wrong with seeking psychological support for Joyce.
"My advice is to stay out of your sister's marriage."
"Carlo, you don't know—"
"No. Listen to yourself, Annette. You did not want to marry and have a family. That does not mean it was a bad choice for Joyce."
"It hasn't turned out to be all sunshine and roses for her either," Annette insisted.
"Who said it would? Or even should be? Life is not always easy, but she and Fantino must work through their own problems."
"Have you been talking to Fantino?" she asked suspiciously. WasCarlothe reason the younger Messina brother was so anti-therapy?
"I talk to my brother frequently."
So, he knew about what was happening and he thought she should butt out? Like her mom and dad did.
"Look, sometimes people need professional help dealing with their problems."
"Fantino and Joyce do not have those sorts of problems."
"You are not serious."