Page 58 of Hateful Vows
His face softens and he nods. “Of course, Mariella.”
The wind chimes in the trees, leaving the moment suspended in time. I wish it would never end.
The cork of a rosé bottle pops and Lucie smiles unabashedly, pouring generous amounts into each glass, then raising hers for a toast to my mother. Today is a good day for her, but that’sthe trick with Lewy body dementia. Compared to Alzheimer’s, which progresses rather steadily, the disorder affecting her brain is unpredictable. She can be herself one day like today but tomorrow, she might barely remember who she is, be stricken with insomnia for days, or fall down the stairs because she forgot how to put one foot in front of the other.
Irina’s hand lands on mine and she squeezes. She doesn’t smile but she doesn’t have to. Her eyes express more than she thinks. The brown swirls with warmth and a reminder to enjoy the moment rather than be scared of losing my mother like I did my father. And between a brutal separation and the slow descent to nothingness my mother faces, I’m not sure which one is worse.
Lucie must pick up on my sour mood because she launches into a story of our youth, drawing smiles and laughter from everyone. She was just four or five when Gio died but she embellishes, to my mother’s delight.
“I can’t believe you still planted oleanders, despite having children so young around,zia,” Lucie scoffs.
“That’s asking for trouble,” Irina confirms.
I have no clue what they’re talking about. My mother loves her garden dearly and she tried to tell me which plant was which, but I was never a good student. That was Gio’s thing. Truly, I never gave a fuck about studying and especially not about gardening.
“Bah,” my mother bats her hand at her. “If you don’t tell kids not to do something they won’t even think about it. Imagine I would have told them not to eat them, you can bet Gio or Tino would have been the first one to ingest the whole plot.”
Tino’s ears tinge red. “It’s not my fault I can’t resist a challenge.”
“So what?” I ask good-humouredly. “Would we have been vomiting our guts on your pristine tile floors, mother?”
It’s Irina who answers me, looking down her nose at me like she does so well. It makes me want to punish her and I lick my lips. “Dante, Oleanders are one of the most poisonous plants in the world and your mum has enough in her garden to kill a little army.”
The air around us shifts.
Tino’s fork stops on his way to his mouth. The sound of the cutlery of porcelain plates stops abruptly.
Irina’s face falls.
Aleksei’s gaze jumps between Irina, Tino and I, the silent conversation loud enough for him to understand. “Mariella, why don’t I play for you in the piano room?”
She follows him and he glances at us behind his shoulder, subtly nodding.
“What do you need me to do?” Tino asks.
Ringing is loud in my ears, my heart screaming in my chest and violence tainting my vision.
“Who knows about this garden?” I ask.
My gaze lands on Lucie, my heart clenching painfully. I haven’t seen her in so long, but she knew about the garden.
Tears rise in her bright blue eyes. “You can’t be serious,” she says, chin wobbling.
Irina steps in front of me, framing my face with manicured hands. “Don’t. That’s what they want. They want you to doubt your own family, the people you’re close to.”
She releases me and my shoulders fall. She’s right but my thoughts are jumbled, grief rising all over again. My father’s murderer was here. They knew. And they knew the seed of dissent and doubt they sowed.
“Let’s list who knows about this place,” Irina says, ever the mafia leader I know she can be.
Tino and Lucie list the very short amount of people who know about this garden. Lucie, her adoptive parents, who are inFrance now and haven’t set foot in the country except for my father’s funeral, Aleksei, Irina, Tino, Lorenzo, my mother, our staff and I. No one had any reason for killing my father.
“Then, we need to exhume his father, do another toxicology report. Who did you work with the first time?” Irina asks.
I give her the name of a doctor who’s worked for my family for years.
“We have to assume he’s been compromised. We’ll use ours. Where’s Lorenzo?”
I’ve known Lorenzo for years. He moved up the ranks alongside me. He’s in Manchester today, dealing with legal real estate projects we have as he usually does. He’s never been one for mayhem and murder.
