His eyes narrowed. “Christina, this is not about wanting something. This is about duty. Gregorio’s duty as my son.”
Was there any point in going on? But I had to lay everything out for him. Oh, he may not want to hear these words but I would not stop now. “He wants to be a chef, Marco. Your Majesty. Did you know that he and Ama often cook the meals served in the dining room?”
His lips had fallen open. Marco was regarding me as if I had gone mad before his eyes. “But this, this is nonsense. Gibberish.”
I don’t know where he’d heard that word––probably some movie––but there it was, hurled at me. What had I expected?
My breath was coming in short gasps. I’d failed Gregorio and that thought brought such misery. Chest tight, I could hardly breathe.
But I was not giving up. Surely Marco could see the sense of this. He loved his son. “There are schools that specialize in culinary arts. Their curriculums train chefs for the best restaurants in the world.”
“Enough.” Stomping his feet on the floor, he jumped to his feet.
Alarmed, one of the men looked into the salon. Marco waved a hand and the man disappeared. I shrank under his fury. “I will not hear anymore. You must be mad, Christina, to ever think I would encourage Gregorio to walk away from his heritage and go off to…cook.” He spat out the last word.
Doing an abrupt about-face, Marco turned on his heel and left.
Crushed, I sank back in defeat. What had I done?
20
The heat dragged on. Classes became intolerable, and I became short tempered. Even in my sleep, my argument with Marco troubled me.
I’d failed, plain and simple. Ama was no doubt waiting to hear from me. But I couldn’t face her with the bad news.
“Mom, when can we go home?” Lexi moaned one day when we were trying to catch a breeze out at the pool. “I want my air conditioning back.”
“Soon, Lexi. I have to fulfill my contract.” Then we would be out of here. I should feel relieved. But my heart splintered at the thought of packing my bag and leaving Marco forever. Snagging the sunblock from my tote, I squirted more on my legs and smoothed it over my skin. “Won’t you miss Gregorio?”
“I guess so.” Lexi stared out at the pool. This summer would be one she’d remember for the rest of her life. But she may not have realized that as we sat there.
Gregorio often joined us at the pool.
“How about dinner trays in our room tonight?” I asked. “We can sit out on my balcony.” If our stay at the pool stretched toward dinner, I’d often send Lexi in with a note asking for trays to be sent to our rooms. That kept me away from Marco.
“I guess so. I’ll go tell Constanza.” After gathering her things, Lexi left and I soon followed.
But I wasn’t expecting to find Ama waiting for me in the heated shadows of the castle corridor. “Profesora.” She crooked one finger, more of a command than an invitation.
I wrapped my towel tight around me. Lexi had disappeared.
Ama pulled me into a nook behind a pillar. “Any luck, my dear?”
So now I was “my dear”? How I wanted to say yes. How I wished I could say that her only grandson would have his wish. But I couldn’t. “I’m afraid I failed.”
Her smile wavered. “I see.” So much disappointment in those two words. I felt terrible.
“Marco and I had a talk about it.” My skin broke out in goosebumps as I recalled that close encounter on his yacht. “But he wouldn’t hear of it. He still holds that Harvard dream for Marco.”
A ragged sigh was her only answer.
“I’ve let you down and I’m very sorry.”
To my amazement, she squeezed my arm as if we were friends, collaborators. “Let’s think. Who else might have influence with him?”
“Not me. That’s for sure.”
“Oh, Christina.” Her soulful eyes peered into mine. “You have great influence with my son. Do not discount your own worth so casually.”
