again. “As beautiful as—well, just as beautiful as ever.”
As beautiful as your mother…
Wasn’t that what he had almost said? The same wonderful refrain he had uttered thousands of times. But he didn’t dare say it anymore.
And she didn’t dare hear it. Not yet, at least. So she brushed a flood of tears from her eyes and suggested gently, “Shall we go inside?”
He seemed speechless at the thought, then he nodded. “Yes, yes. Of course. Come in, come in. Are you hungry? Wait until Rocco sees you! He’ll prepare a feast.”
“He still cooks for everyone on Sundays?”
“Today he cooks for you, and you alone. My God, Sasha.” Frankie shook his head, then took her warily by the hand. “Come inside and tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, I can fix it. I promise you. Whatever it is, you made the right decision coming home.”
“I keep telling you, it was just the wedding,” Sasha assured her father as he fussed over her, serving her mimosas and reminding her that he had money, power and influence, all of which were at her disposal, if she would only tell him what she needed.
He was so radiant—and so wary—that it made her ache with guilt. Of course, she could banish that guilt easily by thinking about her mother’s murder, but to her surprise, she wasn’t tempted in the least to do so. The truth was, she had missed him, too—much more than she had dared admit to herself until now.
“There was a little girl dancing on the tops of her father’s shoes, like you and I used to do,” she told him with a hug. “Remember?”
“How could I forget?” His brown eyes sparkled with tears. “You should have been there earlier. When Antonio danced with his daughter the bride. And I wondered to myself whether I would ever know such happiness—the love of a daughter—again.”
“Oh, Dad! I never stopped loving you. Didn’t you know that?”
He smiled wistfully. “I used to plan your wedding in my mind. I even knew what song I would have them play when I danced with you.”
“‘Volare?’” she guessed.
Frankie nodded. “Do you remember how you would sing it when you were so small? Even then, I knew you’d grow up to be a beautiful woman one day, and some man would take you from me. But instead, I pushed you away, all by myself.” Touching her hand, he added in a soft whisper, “I’m so grateful to have you here again. Tell me why.”
Sasha bit her lip, regretting the need to deceive him, when the need for them to speak the truth to each other was so intense. So long overdue. But this was a necessary lie if she hoped to rescue Teal, so she forced herself to tell him, “I almost came home last month, Dad. To ask you a favor. But at the last minute, I couldn’t. Then yesterday, at the wedding—well, it’s like you said. Seeing Gianna with zio Antonio made me so jealous, and that ballroom brought back so many memories, so…Here I am.”
“And now? Will you allow me to do the favor you mentioned? The one you almost asked me for last month? It would be my honor, Sasha. Ask me anything.”
“It’s probably too late. And it doesn’t really matter—”
“Ask it. I’ll move heaven and earth to do it for you.”
“Dad.” She smiled shyly. “It’s not that big a deal. Just a party I wanted to go to. I was hoping you could wrangle me an invitation. But it’s less than a week away now—”
“A week can be an eternity,” he reminded her. “What party is it? Something in Miami? New York ? My connections are as strong as ever, sweetheart. You’re as good as invited already.”
“Well…” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded article from one of the designer magazines she kept stacked neatly beside her sofa. Fortunately for her, she had fallen behind in her reading, and had been able to retrieve several stories about Vlados Zelasko’s upcoming ball from the January issues. “Look at this, Dad. A real old-fashioned gala, complete with princes and kings
As beautiful as your mother…
Wasn’t that what he had almost said? The same wonderful refrain he had uttered thousands of times. But he didn’t dare say it anymore.
And she didn’t dare hear it. Not yet, at least. So she brushed a flood of tears from her eyes and suggested gently, “Shall we go inside?”
He seemed speechless at the thought, then he nodded. “Yes, yes. Of course. Come in, come in. Are you hungry? Wait until Rocco sees you! He’ll prepare a feast.”
“He still cooks for everyone on Sundays?”
“Today he cooks for you, and you alone. My God, Sasha.” Frankie shook his head, then took her warily by the hand. “Come inside and tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, I can fix it. I promise you. Whatever it is, you made the right decision coming home.”
“I keep telling you, it was just the wedding,” Sasha assured her father as he fussed over her, serving her mimosas and reminding her that he had money, power and influence, all of which were at her disposal, if she would only tell him what she needed.
He was so radiant—and so wary—that it made her ache with guilt. Of course, she could banish that guilt easily by thinking about her mother’s murder, but to her surprise, she wasn’t tempted in the least to do so. The truth was, she had missed him, too—much more than she had dared admit to herself until now.
“There was a little girl dancing on the tops of her father’s shoes, like you and I used to do,” she told him with a hug. “Remember?”
“How could I forget?” His brown eyes sparkled with tears. “You should have been there earlier. When Antonio danced with his daughter the bride. And I wondered to myself whether I would ever know such happiness—the love of a daughter—again.”
“Oh, Dad! I never stopped loving you. Didn’t you know that?”
He smiled wistfully. “I used to plan your wedding in my mind. I even knew what song I would have them play when I danced with you.”
“‘Volare?’” she guessed.
Frankie nodded. “Do you remember how you would sing it when you were so small? Even then, I knew you’d grow up to be a beautiful woman one day, and some man would take you from me. But instead, I pushed you away, all by myself.” Touching her hand, he added in a soft whisper, “I’m so grateful to have you here again. Tell me why.”
Sasha bit her lip, regretting the need to deceive him, when the need for them to speak the truth to each other was so intense. So long overdue. But this was a necessary lie if she hoped to rescue Teal, so she forced herself to tell him, “I almost came home last month, Dad. To ask you a favor. But at the last minute, I couldn’t. Then yesterday, at the wedding—well, it’s like you said. Seeing Gianna with zio Antonio made me so jealous, and that ballroom brought back so many memories, so…Here I am.”
“And now? Will you allow me to do the favor you mentioned? The one you almost asked me for last month? It would be my honor, Sasha. Ask me anything.”
“It’s probably too late. And it doesn’t really matter—”
“Ask it. I’ll move heaven and earth to do it for you.”
“Dad.” She smiled shyly. “It’s not that big a deal. Just a party I wanted to go to. I was hoping you could wrangle me an invitation. But it’s less than a week away now—”
“A week can be an eternity,” he reminded her. “What party is it? Something in Miami? New York ? My connections are as strong as ever, sweetheart. You’re as good as invited already.”
“Well…” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded article from one of the designer magazines she kept stacked neatly beside her sofa. Fortunately for her, she had fallen behind in her reading, and had been able to retrieve several stories about Vlados Zelasko’s upcoming ball from the January issues. “Look at this, Dad. A real old-fashioned gala, complete with princes and kings
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