Part 7
He remembered choosing work whenever a personal thing became difficult.
“Did your mother ever say what happened when she called?” Amelie asked.
Poppy’s lips trembled.
“She said somebody told her to stop.”
Gabriel felt the warm sunset turn cold against his skin.
“Who?”
“A man.”
“What man?”
“He had a nice voice.”
The child’s description was so innocent it made the threat worse.
“Did she say his name?”
Poppy shook her head.
“She said he knew Grandpa.”
Gabriel’s father was dead.
He had been gone for four years, his death followed by a private service, a large donation in his name, and weeks of business calls Gabriel could barely remember. The older man had been feared by staff and admired by strangers. He was the kind of father who called every sacrifice a lesson.
Gabriel had spent years trying to separate himself from him.
Now he wondered whether he had been living in the space his father left behind without ever asking what else was buried there.
Amelie looked toward the villa.
“My mother knows your father,” she said quietly.
Gabriel turned to her.
“She knew him socially.”
“She knew him for years.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I know.”
But the look on her face said she was already thinking through the same terrible possibilities.
The two families had known each other in the way wealthy families often knew one another: fundraisers, dinners, shared boards, business introductions, holidays at homes too large to feel private. Gabriel’s father had once called Amelie’s mother a woman who knew how to keep a room from becoming stupid.
Amelie had told Gabriel that story with embarrassment.
Now it did not seem amusing.
Poppy had grown quiet.
Her small body had begun to relax against Gabriel as exhaustion replaced panic. He looked down at her.
“Do you want to sit somewhere inside?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I want to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because I can see the door.”
Gabriel looked toward the ivory corridor door.
He understood.
Amelie did too.
“No one is putting you back in there,” she said.
Poppy looked at her.
“You promise?”
Amelie held the child’s gaze.
“I promise.”
Gabriel felt something in his chest tighten.
Promises had always been easy for him when they stayed abstract. He would call tomorrow. He would come back after the trip. He would make more time after the deal closed. He would slow down next quarter. He would be more present once things settled.
Amelie did not make promises that way.
When she promised something, she looked at the person she was speaking to.
Poppy nodded slowly.
The last sun slid behind the vineyard ridge. The courtyard lights grew brighter overhead, creating warm circles across the cream stone. The floral arch no longer looked romantic. It looked abandoned.
The officiant had disappeared into the villa. The guests had been moved to the dining room, though Gabriel could still see a few figures through the glass doors, pretending not to watch the courtyard. The wedding planner walked past once with her phone pressed to her ear, then looked away when Gabriel caught her gaze.
Amelie sat very still.
“Do you want to call your mother?” Gabriel asked.
She shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what I would say.”
He understood that.
“What do you want to do?”
The question seemed to surprise her.
She looked at Poppy.
Then at the arch.
Then at him.
“I want to understand what happened before I decide anything.”
The words were controlled.
But Gabriel heard the pain behind them.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Poppy lifted her head.
“Are you not getting married?”
Neither adult answered immediately.
The child watched their faces.
“I’m sorry,” Poppy whispered.
Amelie moved closer, but not too close.
“Poppy,” she said. “You did not do anything wrong.”
“I came.”
“Yes,” Amelie said. “And you came because you needed help.”
The child’s eyes filled again.
“My mommy said I was supposed to find him.”
Gabriel felt the words pull through him.
“Did she say why?”
Poppy shook her head.
“She said I should say the truth.”
“What truth?”
The girl looked at Amelie.
Then at Gabriel.
“She said I should tell you that she didn’t leave because she stopped loving you.”
Gabriel went still.
The courtyard lights blurred at the edges.
For a second, he was back in the old apartment, standing by the window with his suitcase open on the floor behind him. Marin had been quiet in a way that frightened him because he did not know what to do with it.
He had tried to make it a practical conversation.
“You can come with me later,” he had said.
She had looked at him.
“Later is your favorite place to put people.”
May you like
He had been angry.
He had said something sharp.
