Chapter 3

Three days before the induction, Mother asked me to lunch.

“Just the two of us,” she said. “We could talk about what comes next for you.”

My flight was booked. I knew that one lunch wouldn't change what had happened in Father's study. Still, she had asked about my future. I wanted to hear what she would say when Lucia wasn't beside her.

I reserved a table at her favorite Italian restaurant for noon the next day. I arrived half an hour early and ordered the lobster bisque she loved, along with the truffle risotto she said no other restaurant in Manhattan made properly.

At twelve thirty, I sent a message asking how far away she was.

At one, I called. She didn't answer.

The food grew cold. When the waiter offered to clear Mother's plate, I asked him to give her a little longer.

At two, he quietly replaced the ice in her untouched glass.

By three, the lunch crowd was gone. I checked my phone whenever someone passed the table, trying not to look at the empty chair.

At three forty-seven, her message arrived.

Something urgent came up. We'll have lunch another time.

Before I could reply, a photograph appeared in the Romano family group chat. Lucia had sent it.

Look what Mom helped me choose for the induction. Aren't they perfect?

Her nails were painted ivory, with tiny gold roses and diamonds.

Mother replied first: Perfect for my beautiful girl.

Luca wrote, They suit you.

Even Father answered: Very elegant.

I enlarged the picture, although I had already seen enough. That was the emergency. Mother had stayed with Lucia while she chose a manicure, knowing I was waiting at the restaurant.

For hours, she had ignored my calls. She had answered Lucia in seconds.

The waiter came back. This time, I let him clear the extra place setting. I ordered something for myself and ate alone before going home.

When I got home, garment bags covered the living room furniture. Designer heels stood in rows beside Lucia's gowns, and an antique diamond necklace lay in its open case. Mother was holding shawls against Lucia's shoulders.

“Where have you been?” she asked. “The induction is in two days, and you haven't helped with a thing.”

“I waited for you until four.”

“I told you something came up. I've spent the whole day getting everything ready for your induction. Instead of thanking me, you come home looking for a fight.”

I looked at Lucia's hands. “Her manicure was the emergency?”

Luca stood up from the sofa. “We've been busy all day. Everything's been arranged, including your things. Do you really think Mom has time to sit in a restaurant discussing your feelings?”

“She asked me to meet her.”

Lucia lowered her hands. “Luca, don't. Sofia's right. Mom should have gone. My appointment wasn't important.”

She had kept Mother there all afternoon. Saying it now didn't give those hours back.

“I was trying to make everything perfect for both of you,” Mother said. “Nothing I do is ever enough for Sofia.”

Father looked up. “That's enough. Your mother has worked hard. Show some gratitude.”

I had spent the afternoon rehearsing what I would say when I saw her. I thought that if I explained how long I had waited, she might understand why it hurt.

Now I was supposed to apologize for mentioning it.

“All right,” I said.

I went upstairs before anyone could ask for anything else.

Two things lay on my bed: white ceremonial gloves and an ivory shawl from Lucia's closet. I remembered her wearing it once, then complaining that the embroidery made her look old.

I picked it up. The Romano roses were stitched along the edge.

Downstairs, Mother was still choosing between new shawls for Lucia. This was what she had meant when she said my things were ready.

For years, I had tried to be easier to love. Better grades. More prizes. Fewer requests. I kept thinking they would notice and give me a turn.

They had noticed every achievement. They brought them up whenever I asked for something, to explain why I didn't need it.

I folded Lucia's discarded shawl and set it back on the bed.