I gather up my bag and switch into my sneakers. By the time I pad over to the door, Rose is already waiting. She has on a pair of oversized rain boots and an umbrella that’s almost bigger than her.
“Are you sure you’ll need that ?”
“Yes.”
Rose walks me out to the detached four car garage. From the outside it looks like a modern barn. The inside is spotless. Just cars and keys. One of the bays has what looks like a small mechanics set up. The other bays are occupied with vehicles. The one on the far side houses a dark red Buick sedan, the one next to it has a two-tone green Fiat and the one closest to the side door just barely fits a shiny black Range Rover.
A large deep freezer hums in the back. I take a small peek inside, it’s neatly organized with homemade frozen meals, desserts and ice cream.
Fierro arrives ten minutes later. He takes a car key off the wall and I’m excited to see it’s for the Range Rover. I’d only ever seen them on reality TV shows. The car smells brand new and the stray high heels, shopping bags, sweaters, snacks and make-up makes me think this is Clara’s car.
He keeps it on a modern classical satellite station the entire time. As he drives he keeps his eyes on Rose in the rear view mirror instead of the road. It’s a little nerve wracking but the music somehow calms me down.
“Did you really have errands to run”, I whisper
“I did actually”, He whispers back, “I was hoping for some time alone before the festivities.”
“Sorry”, I say, “You can take me back.”
“No. I’m starting to prefer the company.”
The rest of the 30 minute drive passes in a peaceful silence. When we approach Mercier Village he parks in front of a jewelry store by the main square. Rose and I follow behind as he enters the store. Rose inspects the jewelry while the shopkeeper goes into the back to retrieve Fierro's item. The shopkeeper proudly shows me a teardrop emerald necklace.
“It’s beautiful. Is this for Clara ?” I ask.
“No. It’s my contribution to the silent auction.”
“I figured you would donate roses or something like that. People don’t usually buy things for auctions.”
“Between classes and the garden I haven’t had much time to think on it.” He hands the jewelry box to me, “What do you think ?
“It will certainly impress the donors.” I look around. “Maybe you should buy Clara something.”
“Should I ?”
“I know we don’t know each other that well, but this fundraiser seems really important to her and I think it would make the night feel all the more special if she had something new to show off.”
“You are very…thoughtful Sofia.” He seems to consider the items in the cases, “I didn’t ask if you were married.”
“It’s…complicated. Sometimes I’m more of a caretaker in my family than anything else. I don’t mind, but it’s nice having a break.”
A pair of drop earrings fashioned to look like flowers on a trellis catches my eye.
“These are lovely and they would match the theme.”
The shopkeeper takes them out of the case. I’d forgotten how attentive people can be when they think you are wealthy. She holds them at an angle so they catch the light. The price tag is discreetly tucked in the corner. It slips showing the $4,000 price tag.
Rose comes over to give the earrings a passing glass. Fierro admires them then takes a small step back.
“I think we will pass on this today."
It’s somehow gotten cloudier outside. The air feels thick and gloomy. Not what I expected the French countryside to look like.
“Sorry if I overstepped in there.” I apologize. I don’t know why I said what I said.
“No at all”, He says, “I didn't think it would be appropriate."
“The price was a bit shocking."
“Yes. And… “ He slows down but keeps an eye on Rose who stays a few feet in front of us, “I think it’s best to leave gifts to Clara’s date.”
“Oh.”
Of course. It seemed improbable someone like Clara was single. I couldn’t quite figure out if Fierro and Clara were exes. Or friends with some sort of arrangement ?
We turn a corner and head into a bookshop that looks more like someone’s house. The narrow halls are filled with old and new books. Rose heads to the upstairs area which seemed to house the young adult books..
I follow Fierro to the check-out at the back of the shop.
“Bonjour, ma commande est-elle prête ?”, He says to the clerk
“Ah, yes. Very good.” The clerk says, assessing his French. The clerk ventures to the back and we browse a little in silence. It’s a fair mix of French and English books.
“Is it hard watching your fellow co-parent date”, I ask, “ I never thought about my son’s father dating. I mean right now he only sees him once a year but he wants to change that. I don’t know how Eli would handle women coming in and out of his life. Am I even allowed to have an opinion ?”
“I tend not to have an opinion on Clara’s social life unless it involves Rose.”, He picks up a journal and inspects the pages, “Though I think it’s fair to have some say in who spends time with your child.“
He seems to deem the journal acceptable and picks up two. I study the small display of postcards while he scans the architecture and then garden section. I’m certain all of the books from that shelf were on the parlor shelves at Mercier.
The clerk comes back with a stack of books in English. Most are philosophy, history and occult studies
“Oh. Almost forgot one.” The clerk ducks under the counter and comes back with a plastic wrapped copy of the book Rochester had destroyed. He must have been calling the bookstore when we were waiting in the garage.
Rose very carefully makes her way down the steps with three books. When all is said and done the clerk has to put all his books in a crate for him to carry.
Rose gives me a play-by-play of her selections once we are outside. One was a complete tea atlas, a graphic novelization of Little Women and a World II era historical fiction book she'd seen her friend's mothers read.
It takes me ten minutes to realize we aren’t going back to the car. After a few blocks Rose gives up on carrying her own books and tips them into the crate Fierro is carrying.
“Let me”, I say, taking a few off the top of the crate. Not that it seemed to be giving him much trouble.
“Thank you.”
Rose seems to know where we are going and treads purposefully ahead.
“You must think I spoil her”, He says
“No. I think if you have the ability to make your child happy you should. As long as they appreciate it.”
“She does. I know she doesn’t always show it. It’s difficult”
“Shes’ fine. She’s sweet.”
He seems to be considering his next words.
“Clara did leave that book on the floor.” He admits, “She fell asleep with it in the parlor last night.”
“Oh. I’m sure she forgot.”
“I’m sure she did”, He says, readjusting the crate. “She’d had quite a bit to drink.”
Rose turns into a large open air café at the corner. The cafe is empty except for an older man and his dog in the corner. Fierro tilts his gaze up, he has a very striking profile. It stood out more now that he had put his hair back.
“That’s ominous”, he says while setting the books down on a table.
“I’m sure it will clear up”
He turns his gaze to me and says very sincerely, “Always the optimist I see.”
“Where I work you have to be.”
Rose makes her way back over with two paper to-go cups. An employee trails behind her with a third cup. Fierro takes the cup from the employee and says something in French I don’t catch. Rose places a cup in front of me and gathers herself before speaking.
“This is my favorite”, Rose says, “I thought you might like it. It's okay if you don’t.”
I take a sip expecting tea but instead it’s a creamy sweet vanilla drink with a hint of something…floral ?
“This is interesting”, I take another sip, “I love it.”
Rose seems satisfied with herself. She opens up one of her new books and settles in at the table. Fierro looks at his watch and takes a seat as well. I guess we had time.
“This tastes like roses.”
“It’s Tahitian white hot chocolate with lavender and rose.”
“Wow. Is this made from the roses in the garden”
“Never been one for the taste of roses.”
He takes the lid off his cup and I see it’s just coffee with quite a bit of milk. He adds a bit of sugar from the dispenser on the table. This place was a far cry from my neighborhood Duknin Donuts that whipped up my almond milk vanilla latte the minute I walked in. I was starting to miss that latte. It was Sunday back in the states and the staff would be expecting me to bring the kids in for after church assorted munchkins.
“How did you get into roses ?”
He leans forward and thinks on this.
“I was raised on a farm. Treacherous work, but we had a sizeable vegetable garden I always liked tending to. There was a point in my life where I didn’t need to grow food so I found something more challenging.”
“I’m sure your talent is why Clara named Rose after the flower. “
He doesn’t seem to want to go into detail about that. He’d mentioned being raised by Plain people. I wonder if he left his family and faith for Clara. Maybe it didn’t work out but they remained friends. Or had his wife’s death caused him to leave ?
“Tell me more about your life in New York.” He says.
“There isn’t much else. I spend so much time taking care of my husband. He’s disabled and chronically ill.”
“That’s very admirable”, He says “Did you tell Clara you were married.”
“It didn’t really come up”, I think back.
“I think I see why Clara took to you.”
“Should I be scared?”
He peers up at Rose who is admiring a vine growing up the side of a far wall.
“I suspect Clara wanted me to ask you to be my date for the fundraiser. She has been quite insistent I find one.”
I laugh. Then I remember how Clara had brightened the more we chatted on the way to the Galleria.
“I have enjoyed my time with you but I barely know you.”
“That’s how it starts isn’t it.” He adds more sugar to his coffee, “Not that I’m insinuating anything.”
“I hope I didn’t give the wrong idea…”
I let that trail off because what would I do ? Of course I was intrigued by a caring single-father who seems too far outside of my everyday life.
“Of course not”, He says
“I’m sure she just doesn’t want you to be alone.”
He nods, “I’m hardly alone these days between classes and Mercier. I could see the appeal of having a partner again. Not anytime soon, though.”
“How about we just go to the fundraiser as friends. You can introduce me to people and I can help you through small talk.”
“I’d like that, Sofia.”
He looks up again. And a drop of rain hits just under his eye,
“I don’t like the looks of that.” He says, “ We should head back.”
We make it back to the car just before the downpour begins. The heavy rain is merciless. I can barley see through the windshield. Rose is curled in the back underneath a pile of her mother’s sweaters and jackets.
“Rose ?”, I call and she curls further in, “Can you pull over. I can check on her.”
Fierro keeps his eyes forward. I don’t know how he can see through the rain ,“She’s afraid of all the rain.”
“I think she’s having a panic attack. Can you pull over.”
He pulls over. Instead of getting out I squeeze myself over the console. She’s cold to the touch. I turn on heated seats and lead her through some breathing exercises.
When we reach Monet Drive he slows to a stop. The engine revs and I hear the muffed sound of tires hitting mud. The car lurches but doesn’t move. I try to keep serene for Rose while he makes a phone call. My heart drops a little when I hear the beep as his phone searches for a signal. He prays a little under his breath.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” He says to Rose, “ We’ll have to walk.”
Rose clings to me tighter.
“I’m sure it will let up.” I suggest, “Maybe we can wait it out.”
“It’s either now or later when the road is worse. We're not that far from the main gate.”
“Okay”, I agree and un-entwine myself from Rose, “We’ll be back inside in just a few. It’ll be okay.”
Rose nervously clings to her new art book. She flinches when her father reaches to take it away.
“Hold on.”
I wrap the book tightly in my sweater and then wrap it up in all the plastic bags I can find in the backseat.
Rose huddles under her Father’s umbrella as we step out the car. I take Rose’s oversized one. As a certified New Yorker I’d walked in worse weather, but I feel more anxious than I ever have. It probably would have been fine except for the unpredictable wind. My sneakers sink deep into the mud with each step.
I’m slowing down and my umbrella keeps slipping out of my hands. It’s coming down so hard I can’t see where I’m going. Fierro takes one of my hands and helps guide me toward the gate. I’m one step away from the gate when I sink knee deep into the mud. My umbrella blows away. Fierro tries to pull me out but I feel myself sinking deeper.
A strange force propels me forward and I’m pulled out of the mud. The gate suddenly swings open on its own. My umbrella, which had blown away, was now curiously spinning on its top on the other side of the gate. I pick it up and we hurry down the paved drive towards the house.
A bright pink catering van is askew in the lawn and sinking into the mud. As we approach the portico I see Clara framed in the first floor window .Her eyes are distant and she’s clinging to a glass of wine with both hands.
When we reach the portico she gets up and meets us at the door. She wraps a blanket around Rose and helps her take off her wet coat and boots.
She sends Rose upstairs to change into dry clothes. Then she runs into the parlor and gets another blanket to wrap me in.
The grand foyer and hall is now dotted with strategically placed pots, vases and plastic tubs. Each one was nearly filled with dripping rain water.
“No one wants to drive in this”, Clara picks up her wine glass from the entryway table, “The caterers had to abandon a car. The garden party is officially cancelled.”
“I’m so sorry”, I say, “Let me give you my donation.”
“I couldn't possibly", she says, “I didn't want your money. Your presence would have been more than enough.”
“I’m so sorry. You all have been so hospitable. Let me get out of your hair.”
Clara looks up from her wine, “I doubt anyone will come out in this weather. You are more than welcome to stay the night. Though I’m sure this place has lost some of its glamour.”
She looks pointedly at the buckets.
“That’s generous but I can’t.”
“It might be safer”, Fierro says as he observes the leaking ceiling. His hair has started to wave slightly. I noticed Rose’s had done the same.
“We can make room. I'll get you some dry clothes”, Clara perks up, “We also have a kitchen full of hors d'oeuvres. Someone should enjoy them.”
“Okay. I just need to call my son’s father.”
The connection is awful but I let Adam know where I am. When I’m done Clara offers me a pair of comfortable black leggings and a fleece lined sweatshirt.
Clara wasn’t kidding about the kitchen being full. Every surface is covered with mini flatbreads, skewers, water cress sandwiches, bite-sized crabcakes, stuffed mushrooms, mini quiches, canapes, fruit, chocolate truffles, cake shots, cookies, and mini cheesecakes.
I spend the afternoon trying a little of everything and helping Clara portion the food and load up the second deep-freezer she had in the attached laundry room. Clara had turned on some music and we shared the bottle of '92 Champagne she was saving for her toast tonight. We talk about nothing of substance as we work.
Clara kept setting a few items aside on a small plate. Rose later makes her way down to eat it while listening to us talk. Before we close up the kitchen Clara fills some sectioned containers with spring salad and grilled vegetables, then puts them in the fridge.
Clara is fascinating. She tells me how she dreamed of being a pianist, her short-lived career as an elementary music teacher followed by her failed stint as a professor. I listen for hours as she tells me about her travels. I’m particularly fascinated by the solo trips she’s been taking. It’s easy to forget she’s a single mother.I admire that she hasn’t let motherhood consume her life. It seems like she found a way to make Rose fit into her jet-setting lifestyle—. I couldn’t see myself wanting that.
It had taken me a while to ease into parenthood. Now I was finding my pace. I was consumed with it. I worked hard so I could support them and when I was home my focus was on creating a happy healthy home for them. Almost everything I did involved them. We had a lot more emotional aches and pains but we were slowly getting to the family fun part. I didn’t want to miss out on a second.
... Fierro doesn’t make a reappearance. He seems more like a ghost. Moving quietly around the house and making note of all the leaks. He pulls Clara aside to have a brief conversation about more mold. Then a slightly longer conversation about the basement flooding.
It was a little bit after that conversation that Clara made a batch of sangria and suggested we move the party upstairs.
+++
“I like this one”, Clara says, holding up a mirror so I can admire the liquid lipstick I’d tried from her sampler pack. It’s a peachy bronze color. I hadn’t worn much make-up since I left my job at the CVS beauty counter.
“I like it.” I decide “I’d honestly wear more color if I could at work.”
Clara shrugs.
“Keep this one. Save it for a date.”
“Speaking of…”
Clara and I had created a comfortable nest on her bedroom floor. She’’d given me a brief tour upstairs. Only three bedrooms were finished and habitable. There was a finished fourth room but it had apparently flooded today.
We’d settled in her bedroom so she could show me the dress she was going to wear. It was a tiered blue floral dress that was tailored to fit her curves. She would have been a stunning hostess.
She’d kept the dress on while we went through her extensive make-up collection looking for nail polish. We somehow got distracted and started going through the stacks of ‘free gift with purchase’ sets she’d never opened.
“Speaking of what ?”, Clara asks trying on a bright matte fuchsia lipstick.
I look behind Clara to where Rose is curled up on her mother’s bed. Rose had on a pair of wireless headphones and was watching a princess movie on the large TV Clara had in her room. Somewhere along the way, it had been decided that I would sleep in Rose's room tonight. Rose would sleep in Clara’s room.
“Clara, did you invite me because you wanted me to be Fierro’s date?”
“Guilty”, she admits, “When we started talking I just thought you two had so much in common. I don’t know. I have this feeling about you. Do you…like him ?”
“He’s very nice but I’m married.”
Clara drops the lipstick, "I'm sorry. I had no idea. You didn’t have a ring.”
“It’s just been complicated recently.”
“Oh”, her inflection changes, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay”, I say, “We’re always working through it. He’s a tattoo artist.”
“Oh.” Clara seems intrigued,
I’d said too much. I really want to change the subject.
“Your turn.” I turn the tables, “Fierro told me you had a date tonight. Do you like him?”
“I guess we are at the talking about boys portion of the sleepover. You mean Linden? He’s a lot of fun. We met at the U.S Embassy Spring Open House. He does coaching and effectiveness for American business abroad. He is so competitive and kept trying to one up my stories all night. I kind of liked it. Is that awful ?”
She opens her phone and shows me a photo of a very put together group of people standing outside the U.S Embassy in Paris. She zooms in on a striking man in his early 50’s standing next to her.
“I think it’s good you and Fierro get along well enough to live together. Why did you break-up ?"
“Well…I guess,” Clara pours herself a full glass champagne, “We’ve never really been together. We were…neighbors ? We’re just working on building a better friendship.”
“Good friendships can be deeper and more meaningful than any other bond. It’s a true choice. I’ve met a ton of people in the city who are starting families with friends. “
Clara takes a thoughtful sip, “Your turn. Tell me about you and your son’s father.”
“We met at a Starbucks. I liked him a lot. We became friends. I was separated for a little bit and we had this very impulsive night. Adam is a good guy but he wasn’t one for settling down. He had opportunities overseas he couldn't give up. We don’t really talk or keep in touch anymore. He just reaches out on Eli’s birthday and holidays.”
“You and Eli deserve way better than that.”
“We’re good. I don’t think Eli even realizes what he’s missing. He has a ‘Tom’ instead of a dad.”
“Cute.”
“So…”, I’m certain the wine is talking, “Umm…Fierro doesn’t seem like the one-night stand type.”
Clara nearly chokes on her wine.
“I agree.” She says and leaves it at that. “I need to see pictures of these men.”
I happen to have a few pictures in my wallet. I’d wanted Eli to have pictures of us while he was with Adam. There was so much going on that I hadn’t had a chance to give them to him.
“Wow. Retired bad boy. I bet you two look so cute together”, Clara brings the pictures into the light, “You have a really beautiful family, Sofia.”
“So do you.”
Rose is now dosing peacefully in Clara’s bed. She looks so pretty and fragile under the soft lights.
“I think it’s nice you care so much about Fierro”, I tell her, “But if you want to do more matchmaking in the future you should be honest about it upfront.”
Clara finishes her glass of wine, “I will. My family sort of screwed him over so the least I can do is help him find love again.”
“I think you already have. He loves his daughter so much. It’s written all over that garden. They wouldn’t have ever been brought together without you.”
Clara pours herself another glass, “Hmmm…anyone with a uterus could have managed that,”
“A child having loving parents is about choices. Good parents are the ones who pick the right people to love their child.”
Clara still doesn't seem convinced. She goes through another bottle of wine and we finish off a tray of assorted hors de devours we’d brought upstairs.
Around midnight Clara gets sluggish and I gently coax her into bed. There are Pedialyte packets in her bathroom. I prepare one in a clean wine glass and put it into her nightstand , which is actually a cleverly disguised as a wine cooler.
I take off Rose’ headphones and wrap them both in a thick blanket. They looked like a matching set all tucked in next to each other.
Rose’s room is a little creepy.
The walls are lined with curving shelves. One of which is neatly stacked with dolls and beady-eyed stuffed animals. Another is filled with artbooks and another is overflowing with mini replica Grecian statues. Each wall has a different ornate floral wall paper. All the furniture is dark wood with swirling accents and curved legs.
Art books and paints are piled up around her desk. Her open closets are overflowing with school uniforms, dresses, skirts, shawls and tights.
The King-sized bed is so plush I almost sink into it. The sheets are soft and smell like roses and vanilla. Just when I get comfortable I notice the horrifying artwork on the ceiling.
Hundreds of faces are looking down at me. A dramatic scene of what I think is heaven and hell plays out. Ruddy faced cherubs peer down over swirling clouds into the black void at the center of the ceiling. The black void is split into seven panels, each showcasing a deadly sin. Figures are twisted into grotesque positions and expressions.
The work is old and worn. Probably original to the house.
I turn to the side and once again come face-to-face with the stuffed animals. I look to the other side and lock eyes with the dolls and statues. I kept my face forward and peer into the darkness.
I’m almost asleep, but the cherubs wake me up. I hear them laughing in the night. I know it’s just the wine but I turn on the light and peer up at the painting.
Then an eye blinks.
“No.”
I sit up.
It blinks again and this time a single tear lands on my cheek.
I scream. I bolt up and scream again when my feet touch the ice cold floor.
All the lights in the room flair on. Roses’ manual alarm clock and radio all go haywire and play at once. I run into the hallway and see every light in the house is on. Then in an instance the electricity goes out.
It's dark. I can't see anything but blackness.
It’s so quiet I can hear the house settling.
Then someone screams.
No.
Not someone.
Rose,
I start towards Clara’s room. I run through the darkness but get knocked to the ground.
“Clara ?” Fierro says.
Fierro’s cold hand grazes arm and I pull away. I try to move but run into him again.
“Sorry. It's me.” I say, "It's so dark.”
“Are you alright ? I heard you screaming.”
“The ceiling… it was crying and I got scared. Then the lights…is it a ghost ?”
“You saw a ghost ?” He asks.
I feel myself getting frustrated.
“I don’t know. The ceiling was crying. What is going on—fuck !”
A pinprick of light floats down the hallway. I try to scramble away but FIerro holds me still. The light gets closer and I realize it’s Rose holding a cell phone flashlight.
“Papa”, Rose starts, “I didn’t do it–”
“It’s alright Rose. It’s the storm.”, In the dim light he turns back to me, “ Sofia, what were you saying about a ghost.”
“The painting was crying.” Is all I can manage.
He glances in the direction of Roses’ room, “That awful thing. We’ve been meaning to paint over it.”
“I rather like it.” Rose says, “It’s not at all haunted. I should know.”
“It started crying…” I try to explain again.
“It was leaking”, Fierro says. “There must be a new leak in Rose’ bedroom.”
I follow Fierro and Rose back to her room. Rose directs the light up and I hear a soft patter. The ceiling was leaking. There were no dead people haunting this house. How silly.
Rose and I find containers for the leak while Fierro feels his way back to his room and returns with two kerosene lamps. I don't remember seeing him light them but once we each have one they are alight.
As we head down the hall we run into Clara. She is crawling on the floor in her pajamas and fleece robe
“Rosie”, she says when she sees her, “Why did you take my phone. I needed that. It’s dark. I can't believe you left me like that.”
Clara’s words sound heavy. She’s slurring.
“The generator blew”, Fierro says.
“We need electricity, don’t we ?” I say
“We need heat," he says.
The temperature was dropping rapidly. I could already see Rose shivering.
“Rose what did I tell you”, Clara says while trying and failing to stand, “You have to calm down. Sofia I’m so sorry. I am so sorry I—
“It was the storm”, Fierro says as if it could have been anything else.
“Maybe we can get emergency services”, I say while doing a palm check on Clara. I couldn’t remember how many glasses she’d had. She’s definitely had a bottle before bed and then maybe 6 or 8 glasses this afternoon. “She’s at risk for Hypothermia.”
“I’ll be okay”, Clara’s pulse is faint.
“Rose”, I hold the lamp up to illuminate her, “Why don’t you keep your mom warm. Wrap your arms around her.
Rose hesitantly does as I ask. Clara mumbles something and lulls off.
I gently lead Fierro out of Rose's earshot.
“We have to try to make it into town.” I whisper, “If the temperature continues to drop she could die.”
“She’ll be fine”, Fierro says, turning up the kerosene lamp just enough so I could see his expression in the glowing light , “It’s you I’m worried about. You can have my room. It has a fireplace that should keep you warm. There is another fireplace in the parlor. We’ll go down there. I just have to get them started”.
“Let me help.”
Luckily the firewood is kept in a storage closet in the garage. We venture out in the storm briefly to gather the wood. It only takes two trips to get enough for both fireplaces. We light the parlor fireplace first. I try to follow Fierro’s lead and stack the wood propertly. He retrieves a brass lighter from a hidden compartment in the desk drawer. With some tending the fire roars to life. We take a moment to enjoy its warmth.
Clara is very cold when we get back upstairs. Her breaths are very shallow and ragged. Rose has crawled away from her mother and is curled in an opposite corner.
I stick close to Rose while Fierro carries Clara downstairs. I’m sort of surprised how effortless he makes it look. Rose looks so weak. She was probably a little underweight for her age. The cold was probably going right through her. I take my time walking down each step with her.
The parlor feels warmer already. Rose curls up to the hearth. Fierro had gently set Clara down by the fireplace. At first I think he's talking to her but as I get closer I realize he's praying over her. I work Clara’s hands to keep the blood flowing. She tries to talk and I realize she is trying to say.
'I'm sorry.'
zfI bring some comforters and blankets down from Clara’s room to make a little bed. Fierro has left her side to start the upstairs fireplace.
“Stay close to your Mom”, I tell Rose, “Keep each other warm.”
Once they are settled I head back upstairs. There is just enough hot water in Clara’s bathroom for a quick shower. I’m certain she won’t mind me borrowing a flannel set from her drawers.
I grab my things and knock on Fierro’s door. The promise of heat draws me into the room. The fireplace in it is stoked and roaring. A few candles are strategically placed around the room giving in a comforting glow.
There is something odd about the space. By the door are four impressive bookshelves overflowing with books. A small oak writing desk is situated catty-corner to the shelves. The desk has a working typewriter, blueprints of the house and worn textbooks.
A modest king-sized four poster bed is pushed against the wall with matching vintage nightstands on either side. The is a very handsome antique wardrobe set full-size retractable mirrors on one side. I also spy a projector screen rolled up to the ceiling. The projector seems out of place,
Rochester is lounging in a dog bed by the fireplace. Fierro emerges from the bathroom dressed in a fresh shirt and slacks.
“You can’t go out in this weather.”
“I’m not going anywhere", He assures me.
“You’re not going to bed ?”
He skates his head, “I need to keep inspecting the house and finish that essay.”
“You're not tired After all this excitement."
“I have a bit of insomnia”, he admits. He picks up his folio and pen from the cafe , ““Make yourself comfortable.I You’e had quite the day.””
“You all have been so generous. Promise me you’ll come to New York so I can repay..”
“I look forward to it”, He says.
“I think Clara will be okay. . It would be good to warm something by the fire for her to drink. Like milk or tea. Umm…it would probably be best if it didn’t contain alcohol.”
He nods, “ I apologize. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”
“It’s an old house.”
“Yes”, he says, “That as well.”
He whistles for Rochester to follow him out.
“No. He can stay here.”
Once he is gone I just pretend like I'm in a hotel and settle into the modest bed. The warmth of the fire is all encompassing. Much more inviting than central heating.
I perk up when there is a knock at the door.
“Sofia”, I was starting to really like how he says my name.
Fierro steps in and I see he’s carrying a tray with two tea cups on it. I took one. He takes the other and sets the tray side. I smile a little when I see the Sleepy Time tags handing off the sachet.
“I figured we could all use something warm.”
I close my eyes because I can’t manage a thank you. When I open my eyes a tear falls.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not used to people taking care of me. My entire family needs me. And I Iove them and I love taking care of them. But this is nice. This one time.”
“This is nothing ”, he says gesturing to tea, “You’ve been very gentle and taking great care with Rose and Clara. They are all I have. I could learn a lot from you. ”
“I wish we’d met sooner.”
He nods in agreement,“Time has never quite been on my side.”
+++
The familiar bright jazzy tune plays again. This time it sounds closer. I open my eyes and remember where I am. The room is drenched in sunlight. I realize what is so uncanny about the room . It looks like it's from another time.
Jazzy Ambiance #3 plays again from behind the door. Clara slowly opens the door with my phone in her hands.
“Hi. It’s been going off all morning.--”
I jump out of bed and take it from her. I have eight missed calls. When I pick up I hear Eli crying in the background. He’s screaming for me in a way he usually never does. I don’t really hear what Adam is saying, but I can hear the distress in his voice.
“Sofia. I just…don’t think now is a good time. Maybe we can revisit. When he’s older. I think we need to reschedule this whole thing–”
I’m both happy and heartbroken to hear Adam say that.
“It’s okay. Maybe you should come to him instead of him coming to you.”
“l have to look at my schedule. Can you hurry ? I’m a little overwhelmed. ”’
I hang up and realize Clara had heard my entire conversation. She looks like she’s going to cry.
“I have to get my son.”
“On it. I’ll call you a car.”
”Thank you so much for your kindness. Are you doing okay"
“Yes. I don’t fully remember what happened last night, but I’m okay. I am practically indestructible.”
I shower and accept another outfit from Clara. This time a lemon and blue maxi dress that feels soft against my skin. She’d given me her New Yorker tote bag and filled it with my freshly laundered clothes, wrapped croissants, a tin of tea and some of the make-up I’d tried on. I make it downstairs just as a black private town car pulls up to the gates.
There is a full breakfast spread waiting for me. I feel terrible that I can’t stop to enjoy it. I had to get to Eli. I have enough time for a few spoonfuls of fruit and exchange quick hellos with Rose who is working on a new sketch. I feel so bad for rushing out.
Rose hurries off her stool and hugs me before I get to the front door. Fierro comes in from the backyard with the vase from yesterday. It’s now overflowing with neatly arranged pale pink garden roses.
“Leaving so soon.” He says.
“Yes. I’m sorry. My son needs me.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Sofia”
“You too. All of you. Thank you so much .”
He looks like he wants to ask me something but he never does.
Fierro escorts me out the door. Clara is already out on the portico with Rochester. I give the puppy one last pat before heading towards the cab. Rose wanders out and down the steps.
“Ms. Sofia, I almost forgot”, Rose holds out the hummingbird and mandarin orange tea cup to me. It’s all warped up in bubble wrap and table.
“Thank you.” I say accepting the cup and then again for everything else, “Thank you.”
Rose hurries back to the portico to stand next to her father. He kisses the top of her head and she whispers something to him. I hesitate before getting in the cab. When I finally do it feels like an ending. Clara waives as the cab pulls off. I get a final glimpse of them as the car heads down the drive. I’d only spent 72 hours in France and had enough delightful memories for a lifetime.
+++
Epilogue
“Clara.”
I push my rolling piano stool back and into the hallway.
“Clara”, Fierro calls again.
I get up and follow his voice into the kitchen. Rose wanders in as if he’d called her too.
He’d just gotten back from Worthington a few minutes ago. I figured he’s academically brood alone somewhere before looking for me. His books and weekend bag are splayed forgotten on the kitchen table. He’s holding a tattered envelope in one hand and a card in the other.
“What is it ?”
“Do you remember Sofia ?”
“Of course! Did she make it back okay ?”
He hands me a thank you card with a 40$ donation to LFM inside. I note that she had addressed the envelope to ‘The Fierros’. The return address is completely illegible.
“You know I really wanted to donate to her hospital but she never gave me the name of it.”
“She sent a picture of her children.”
“Oh ! Let me see.”
The three of them are sitting in the Son of Batch I’d suggested. Her daughter is adorable. She looks just like a princess with the ribbons in her hair and a pale blue dress. Her son is in her lap. It was hard to believe that cutie was the one crying on the other end of the phone. He has all of her features except his eyes are bright blue.
“I really hope she comes back—“
“Clara. Look at the calendar on the wall behind her. Look at the year.”
“Why—”, I take a close look. It’s set to August 2010, “Oh. It’s probably just an older calendar…”
I study the picture a little more and notice a grand opening sign by the register. Which was kind of odd because that location had been there for at least a decade.
“You know”, I realize, “Her phone was kind of an older model. The repair guy mentioned it was in great shape.”
“I knew there was something about her.”
I can’t help but to smile to myself, “I guess you two had way more in common than I thought.”
A/N
There is a little sprinkle of paranormal activity. When Sofia breaks her phone she accidentally time travels to 2019.
In Chapter 1 the romance book in Clara’s bag is 50 Shades of Gray but she wouldn’t know that yet. The princess movie Rose is watching is Frozen (in Sincerely, Emile it’s mentioned that it’s her favorite. She kind of relates to a girl who is told to conceal her special abilities.)
It’s also why Sofia thinks everything is high tech and fancy.
This is a very recent story for me. I’d never written Clara/Fierro in 2019 after 2019. Most of LIpari was written before 2019 so I had to go in and update some stuff (fashion, tech and social media) Sofia here is the Sofia that exists about a year or two after Goodwill.