Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Bending down, Heidi tells her conspiratorially, “That’s why you have to eat the whole cookie. So that there are no armless or legless bits left.”
Sophie doesn’t look convinced.
“Why don’t you keep him for now, and you can decide later?” Heidi suggests.
“Okay,” Sophie says. “Must we put him on a plate, Sabella?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” Sabella holds out her hand. “Why don’t I put him on a plate and leave him in the kitchen while you show Mr. Russo your new room?”
Sophie puts the cookie on Sabella’s palm and pirouettes in front of me. “Look, Angelo. Fabien brought us new clothes and lots of things for my room. Beatrice likes him now. He’s funny.” She wraps her small fingers around my hand and pulls me toward the stairs. “Come look.”
Chuckling, I follow her upstairs to the room at the end of the hallway. Fabien did a great job. A sky-blue comforter and scatter cushions in all the colors of the rainbow cover the bed. Stuffed toys sit on the surfaces of the white-washed furniture. A darker blue rug with a couple of poufs forms an area for playing. The room is colorful without being overly bright. It’s a happy room fit for a young child. A temporary room, I remind myself.
Worry gnaws at me again when I think about moving Sophie to the school in Marseille. From the photos I’ve seen, the dormitory room is spacious and clean with lots of light. It’s an adequate room. The principal assured me it’s comfortable with an AC for the hot summers and central heating for the wet winters. It’s not a rainbow room full of fantasy animals, but she’ll get used to it. Children adapt fast. Fabien can create an even prettier room for her in my house, a room with frills and lace and a kitchenette with a tea set and all the things little girls like.
“What do you think?” she asks, tugging on my hand.
I try to remember what the room looked like before they moved in here and destroyed everything. I think it was white with lilac touches. It’s surprising how little of it I recall. Maybe it’s because back then, the children were a concept instead of little humans in my mind. The house was a gift for my mother, not for them. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong. I only wanted to please my mother without thinking it through. I never considered how a move would affect the children.
Smiling down at her, I say, “It’s a beautiful room.”
“I like it too.” She pulls me to a doll’s bed in the corner. “This is where Beatrice will sleep, but she’s still sleeping with me until she’s no longer scared.”
“Is she still scared a lot?”
“Not as much now as before,” she says, rocking the doll in one arm. “I think she likes it here.”
I squeeze her hand. “That’s good. As long as she remembers that her real room will be at my house.”
She frowns. “Will Sabella come too?”
“Sabella’s place is here.”
“Why?”
“I already explained.”
“Then Beatrice and I will stay here with her.”
“We’ll talk about it later. Come.” I walk to the door. “It’s time for dinner. Sabella and I are leaving early in the morning, so she can’t go to bed late.”
She pauses in mid-step. “I don’t want her to go.”
“We’ve already discussed this. She has to go.” When her bottom lip starts to quiver, I say, “Why don’t you bake Sabella a special gingerbread cookie? Think how happy that will make her when she gets back.”
She tilts her face to the ceiling, seemingly considering the idea. After a moment, she says, “Like a heart?”
“Yes, a heart-shaped cookie.”
“Or a flower.”
“Why not both?”
“All right,” she says slowly. “But don’t tell her. It will spoil the surprise.”
“It’ll be our secret,” I say solemnly.
Pacified, she takes my hand again and lets me lead her to the kitchen where a dinner of beef roast, mashed potatoes, and beans are set out. Heidi joins us. We agreed that it’ll help if Sophie gets to know her better before we leave.
Heidi engages her in a conversation about the movies she’s seen here. Except for the fact that Sabella and I don’t exchange a word, the dinner passes amiably. Heidi is telling Sophie about One Hundred and One Dalmatians, promising that they can watch it together, when Sophie says out of the blue, “Can I have a dog, Angelo? I want to walk my own dog.”
Sabella chokes on her wine.
“A dog?” I say.
“A small one.” Sophie looks at Sabella with pleading eyes. “He won’t take up much space. He can sleep in Beatrice’s bed. Please, Sabella.”
“We can discuss a dog when things are more stable,” I say carefully.
“Sabella doesn’t mind. She likes dogs. Don’t you Sabella?”
“Of course I won’t mind,” Sabella says. “But it’s for Mr. Russo to decide. This is his house, remember?”