Page 31 of Loss and Damages
“She is.”
His hold on my arm tightens until it’s painful, but we come to a stop in front of Mrs. Milano and he releases me.
Luscious strains of the violins float over us, and just as elegantly, Mrs. Milano flows to her feet and holds out her hand.
“Mama, this is Jemma Ferrell. Jemma, this is Athena Milano.”
She grips my hand, a huge diamond glittering on her ring finger. “Jemma, may I call you that? It’s a pleasure to meet you. Leo didn’t tell us he was seeing someone before, he, he—” She stops, inhales, and forces a smile. “You’re very pretty. I can see why my son would be taken with you.” She glares at Dominic, her eyes glittering with, I want to call it hate, but that couldn’t be, could it? “Leave us.”
His shoulders hunch. “I’ll come back for you,” he tells me and simply walks away.
“Oh, that wasn’t necessary—” I start, but Mrs. Milano shakes her head.
“I want to speak to you privately. Please, sit down. Would you like a drink? Champagne, or something stronger?”
“Champagne is fine, thank you.”
I sit next to her at the large table, the place settings sophisticated and refined, consisting of so many utensils my head spins.
As if by magic, a waiter stops by our table carrying a tray of sparkling champagne flutes and serves us without saying one word. I try a sip of the crisp, fizzy liquid and wait for Mrs. Milano to initiate a conversation, but she seems content enough to look at me, trying to study me without appearing to do so. She’s not successful and I finally turn in my chair to face her. If I hadn’t had a clue as to how old she is, I would have guessed her twenty years younger. Her face is unlined, though I do see the pain Dominic spoke of. Leo’s death, while she’s trying to hide it, has affected her.
I cover her hand with mine. “I’m sorry about Leo. It was devastating to hear of his accident.”
“You’re straightforward. I like that. There is little time for ambiguity.” An accent touches her speech, and I wonder if English is her second language. “Leo was my baby and he took my heart with him when he passed away. These few days have gone by in a cloud of sadness. Sometimes I feel I cannot keep going without him.”
“I felt that way when I first heard, and then after, when I attended his wake. Mrs. Milano—”
“Athena, please, Jemma.”
“Athena, Leo celebrated every little thing. From the sun shining behind a grey cloud to an excellent glass of wine. The last thing he would want is for us to waste what little time we have left on this earth mourning him. I have to believe that or there’s no way I can keep living.”
“You knew my son. Dominic says you and Leo were seeing each other. He never told us about you, never asked me if I wanted to meet you. Were you in love?”
“We were friends.”
“And lovers.” She doesn’t turn it into a question.
“No. We were friends, nothing more. We liked spending time together, without judgment or conditions. I never cared he had money, he never cared I didn’t. What we had went beyond material things like that. Leo was very passionate about helping people, about the state of the world. I think I fed that fire, and I was happy to do it. He wouldn’t have cared about this fundraiser, the money. Yes, it’s needed, but this isn’t where Leo would have spent his time. To truly help the homeless, he volunteered in the shelters, cooking meals, mopping floors. Things like that mattered to him, not this.”
“You are a very wise woman, and you would have made my son a good wife.”
I’m not so sure about that. There is no meeting in the middle when one half of a couple is more affluent than the other. I couldn’t give up my gallery. I may not have the funds to help people on this grand of scale, but the artists I sell in my shop depend on their earnings. I adore living in my grandma’s cottage and I love living near Hollow Lake. Would I give all that up for love? For the right man, I could meet in the middle, but Leo wasn’t for me and Dominic doesn’t compromise.
I smile and shrug. “Perhaps.”
“Tell me about your days with him,” she says, and we pass an hour or more trading stories about Leo, giving each other the gift of our dearest memories.
We sit through dinner, and there is no sign of Dominic. I’m afraid to mention him to Athena. There’s obviously bad blood between them, Leo clearly her favorite son. That must have been hard on Dominic. I can’t imagine how I would have felt if my mother had favored Jeremy over me and let me find out about it, or no, worse yet, made me feel like it was my fault.
Athena introduces me to a few people and they express their condolences which she accepts graciously, but most of the guestsdon’t approach our table, instead glancing at her out of the corners of their eyes and whispering behind their hands. I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt as it’s difficult to talk to someone who just lost a loved one, but I’m also willing to bet that for some it’s plain old fear keeping them away from our table.
Athena Milano lives up to her name.
Crisply dressed waiters serve dessert, and I sample the chocolate mousse. It’s decadent, just like everything else here. Athena pushes her dish away.
People are starting to leave, and I’m going to miss my chance if I want to know what happened between her and Dominic.
“Athena, can I ask you something?” I need courage, and I gulp my wine.
