What bothers me most about that night is when she asked for two favors: money for Isabel and the kid, and a quick death. When she could choose only one, she chose Isabel and Valentina.
Faced with what she believed was repeated rape and death, no one—no one—would have made that choice. That sacrifice was too big to make for someone who isn’t a close relative. I don’t care what she says about family. It doesn’t add up.I need Lucas to step up his research on Isabel.
I ring the bell to my mother’s apartment. I’m not looking forward to breaking the news about Daniela to Lydia Huntsman, or Lydia Huntsman Taft as she’s now known.
Several years after my father died, my mother married the former British ambassador to Portugal, to everyone’s delight. The British and the Portuguese have a special relationship, established around Port, that dates back to the mid-fifteen hundreds. Many families in Porto were created around that relationship. My mother’s family is Portuguese, and my father’s ancestors are from England. I’m a mongrel.
“Antonio, my love,” my mother cries, opening the door, “I don’t know if I’m shrinking, or if you’re getting taller.” She throws her arms around my shoulders, holding me tight.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not grateful she’s safe and happy.
“How was your trip?”
“Uneventful.”
“Just the way it should be. Take off your suit jacket. The queen’s not joining us for lunch.
“I had dinner with Rafael on Friday,” she continues while hanging my jacket. “He doesn’t seem too broken up about Abel.”
“I can’t say I blame him.”
“It’s heartbreaking, really.”
“Edward at work?” I ask, changing the subject to something far more pleasant. Her husband couldn’t be any more different from Abel, or my father. Edward treats her like a queen, which keeps him on my good side.
“He’s going to try to sneak away to see you, but he didn’t want to promise. Come into the kitchen while I put the last touches on lunch.”
“Don’t you have a cook to prepare lunch?” I ask, following her into the spacious kitchen.
“And let an opportunity pass to fuss over my handsome son? If you had given me more notice that you were coming, I would have prepared all your favorite dishes.”
“I didn’t come to eat. I came to see you. How’s Samantha and her family?” I ask, glancing at the photograph of my mother with Lexie, my stepsister’s child. Samantha is two years older than me, the daughter my mother happily inherited when she married Edward.
“They’re doing well. Lexie is getting to be a young woman. As much as I love having a son, it’s fun to have the girls.” She sighs. “I miss girl time.”
I know she’s thinking about my aunt Vera, and maybe Daniela’s mother too. My stomach is starting to rebel at the thought of breaking the news.
“I heard cargo was missing,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at me from the stove.
I glare at her, trying to keep my anger in check. “Sonia told you?”
“I speak with Sonia regularly. But I speak to a lot of people regularly.”
Fucking Sonia.“I allow you some leeway into my personal life, because you’re my mother. But you will stay out of my business matters.” I say it pointedly and firmly, and even Lydia Huntsman knows not to cross me about this. “The cargo doesn’t concern you—missing or not. And if Sonia doesn’t learn to keep her mouth shut, I’ll cut her loose fast enough to make your head spin.”
She starts to say something, and I hold up my hand. “Not one more word about it.”
“You can get more honey if you’re nice to the bees, Antonio.”
“Or you can get stung. And the saying is ‘more flies with honey.’”
“Flies are dirty little creatures. I’m not a fly, and neither is Sonia.”
It’s hard not to laugh, because she means well. “I don’t see you anywhere near enough, and I didn’t come all this way to argue. Besides, whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.”
She smiles. “Pour some wine, please. It’s a nice day. We’ll sit on the terrace and catch up until lunch is ready.”
She grabs a small dish of olives and another of nuts, and I carry the wine outside. The apartment is at the top of a steep hill, and the view of London from the terrace is beautiful, especially on a day like today.