“Yes. I hope so. I’ll try to bring you back a star.”
He smiled feebly, “Yes, as long as you can carry it. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, Mere.”
“I’ll come straight home once I do.”
That one word infused Anthony with all of the strength he needed to let her go. She had called the estate herhome. She didn’t merely view this as her place of work, nor was it simply Anthony and Cecilia’s home. It was her home, too.
It was then that he knew for certain that her decision to leave was just as agonizing for her as it was for him. This realization provided him with an unusual and bittersweet-tasting solace.
“I’ll hold you to those words. Now go. Like you said, the sooner you leave, the sooner I shall see you again.”
He watched Meredith and Kenneth climb into the coach. He watched her wave tearfully at everyone. He waved back. He waved as it made its way through the gates. He waved until the iron gates shut behind it. He continued to wave even though it was no longer in sight. He waved until Cecilia begged him to stop.
Everyone else was waiting for him to lead the way back into the house. But he found that his feet were no longer listening to him. They stayed rooted on the ground, still pointed towards the gates.
He half-expected the coach to come barreling down the pathway once more. He still held out hope that Meredith would perhaps change her mind or have a miraculous epiphany that would immediately give her what she was searching for all along.
But the gates remained perfectly still. And even as Anthony begrudgingly went back inside, he left a part of himself still waiting there, unmoving.
Even now, he felt that it was still there, always waiting, always on the lookout for her return.
He picked up her letter again. Certain words and phrases leapt out at him from the page.
I couldn’t believe it! … a huge fuss… packing now… in Florence within the next few days… still searching…
After several minutes of contemplation, he moved to his writing desk. He cracked his knuckles as he prepared to fire off several letters of his own.
Chapter 31
Two Weeks Later…
“Miss Meyer, I’m so sorry to interrupt your luncheon but Luca’s somehow managed to lose one of his stockings! Could you please find out what happened to it?”
“I’m still trying to feed Paolo his carrots. Also, please brush Luca’s hair again, he’s made a mess of it once more,” called Mrs. Venturi from the bedroom.
“Right away, Mrs. Venturi,” Meredith called back.
She entered the dining room to find the young boy exactly as his mother had described him.
“Luca, come along. Let’s give Mommy some peace so that she can feed Paolo.”
Mrs. Venturi fervently mouthed the words “Thank you!”as Meredith took Luca’s hand and led him to the bedroom. Meredith admired the Venturis’ new house, but since it was significantly bigger than the one they had been staying in at East Brentmoor, it meant that there were now more places for Luca to lose his stockings.
Mr. Venturi, a sophisticated Italian businessman, was the one who made the decision to bring his English wife, Margaret, their two sons, and Meredith to Florence, Italy.
And when the little boys gawked at the sight of their new house, Mr. Venturi affectionately nudged his wife and said, “Now the two horses shall have more space to tire themselves out, no?”
In reply, Mrs. Margaret Venturi—née Margaret Gale—a comely, salt-of-the-earth woman born and raised in East Brentmoor said, “Oh, it’s a beautiful house, darling! But how do you suppose Meredith and I are to chase thehorsesaround?”
With the same spirit of mischief that inhabited his sons, Mr. Venturi had simply replied, “With carrots, I suppose.”
When Meredith had finished brushing Luca’s hair, she straightened and redid the buttons of his coat. “Luca, dear, do you know where your other stocking is?”
But the boy was already thinking of something else; possibly plotting a way to dispose of his other stocking. Or perhaps he wasn’t plotting at all. After all, the boy was only five years of age.
I don’t think any child ever plots anything, they’re far too busy having fun.
Meredith asked him once more, “Did you hear me, Luca? Where is your,” she pointed to his foot, “stocking? Did you hide it somewhere?”
