well enough to write a letter,” I replied, “and I was with her the whole time. Besides, the lawyer said ‘letters,’ which suggests there were more than one.” I stared down at my open palms. “Either way, why would he cut his own children out of the bulk of his estate? Didn’t he love them? I just don’t understand it.”
Maria stood and joined me in front of the painting. “I could probably shed some light on that part of it.”
“Could you?”
“Sì.” She hesitated, and her cheeks flushed with color. “I don’t like to gossip, Fiona, and who am I to judge? But I’ll be honest . . . Connor and Sloane weren’t exactly what I would call loving children. They were darlings when they were little, and I enjoyed having them come to stay, and I could forgive them for not wanting to visit when they were teenagers. They didn’t want to leave their friends. That’s natural. But I can’t forgive them for staying away so completely as adults.”
“There must have been some reason why they didn’t want to visit.”
“All I know is that Anton made every effort to stay in touch. He called and invited them, but they were too busy all the time. With what, I don’t know. Neither of them has a job. But they didn’t even humor him by suggesting they’d try to fit in a trip some other time. The only time Connor ever called was to ask for money. It was hard on Anton, and I believe he might have been testing them over the past few years. He gave them every opportunity to come and learn about the winery, but they always said no. I suspect that just confirmed to him the fact that they didn’t care about him or this winery.”
I turned to Maria. “So you think he might have wanted to teach them a lesson by giving everything to me? Or that he was being vengeful?”
“He certainly could be vindictive sometimes. He was ornery in the end. Reclusive.”
“But why not teach me a lesson?” I asked. “Because I certainly wasn’t a loving child.”
Maria gave me a look. “Maybe it wasn’t you he was thinking about when he rewrote the will.”
I rubbed at the back of my neck. “You think it was my mother, for whatever reason. Guilt, maybe. Atonement?”
Maria shrugged. “Someone around here must know what happened between them.”
I walked back to my chair, sat down, and drummed my fingers on the tabletop. “How did they even meet?”
I thought about Connor’s accusations suddenly and felt a surge of panic. He was, at that very moment, calling lawyers and probably private detectives to help him prove his claim—that some crime had been committed, which would overturn the will.
What if my mother had threatened Anton in some way? What if this was going to get ugly and Connor was going to drag my mother’s past into the spotlight or paint us as gold diggers? Maurizio Wines was a big name. It could be a juicy story back in the US.
Poor Dad. It would kill him to learn the truth that way.
“I feel a little nauseous,” I said and put my head between my knees.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No. I think I just need to find the letters the lawyer was referring to. I need to find out what really happened.” The sick feeling in my belly was still there, but I forced myself to sit up regardless. “Maybe you could help me with that?”
“Sì. I want to get to the bottom of it too.” Maria began to tidy up the water jug and glasses. “Let me show you around the villa today. You should know what you’ve inherited. Later, I’ll ask my husband to take you around the vineyards and show you the wine cellars.”
“Thank you, Maria. I feel like you’re my only friend right now.”
She glanced at me meaningfully. “No one should be without friends.”
After gathering the water glasses onto a tray, she carried them out of the room.
For a long while after she was gone, I sat alone, staring at the wall, thinking and reflecting. What were Connor and Sloane doing at that moment?
Probably not retreating. Not when there was €100 million at stake.
A terrible wave of guilt washed over me. What right did I have to take away their inheritances? Even if they were horrible, selfish children, I certainly wasn’t any more deserving.
I really needed to understand what was happening here. Those letters needed to be found.
CHAPTER 7
LILLIAN
Tuscany, 1986
In the