“You came to bring me flowers,” Maria cheerfully replied.
“Yes, but I came for another reason as well.” Sloane took a deep breath to try and get this right, to say the things she needed to say for her own emotional well-being in the future. “The kids and I will be leaving in the next few days, and I feel badly that you and I didn’t get a chance to catch up.”
Maria said nothing as she prepared the coffee. Sloane soldiered on.
“I wanted to tell you, Maria, that I have very fond memories of you. You made a difference in my life back then, when my parents weren’t exactly what I would call happy to be together. But you kept Connor and me busy with fun things to do, and I enjoyed the time we spent together. I just wanted you to know that.”
Maria carried two small espresso cups on saucers to the table. “I enjoyed spending time with you too. I missed you when you stayed away. So did your father.”
Sloane spooned some sugar into her cup. “Yes, that’s obvious to me now, and I feel badly about that too. I think when you’re young, you believe your parents will always be there, and well . . .” She paused. “I think Connor and I were more selfish than most children, and Mom didn’t try to steer us another way. I think she preferred that we weren’t close to Dad. She was bitter toward him, and she encouraged us to do what we wanted, which was to stay in LA, because she knew it would hurt him.” Sloane suddenly recognized her mother’s motivations because she was paddling in those same waters herself, feeling angry toward Alan and wanting to cut him out of her life completely and take her children with her.
“It colored how we felt about Dad,” Sloane continued, “and I don’t think we had a fair perception of him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Maria replied, “but I can’t say I’m surprised. Your mother never liked it here. Maybe she worried that if you spent time here, you would eventually choose him and this place over her.”
“I suspect that’s true.” Sloane was quiet for a moment, then looked up. “Did Dad know he had a heart condition? Did anyone know?”
Maria shook her head. “He seemed healthy as a horse. It caught us all by surprise. But that’s life, I suppose. It’s important to cherish every day, not take anything for granted.” She sipped her espresso. “How are you holding up? You were very quiet at the funeral.”
Sloane sighed. “Yes. Dad’s passing was a shock to us. And I have to be honest, even though I hate to admit it—but Connor and I were distracted. All we could think about was what we were going to inherit in the will. I don’t even remember much about the wake. It was like I slept through it all. I barely glanced at Dad in his coffin. I suppose I didn’t want to face the fact that he had actually died. It didn’t really hit me until the next day, when we were waiting for the lawyers to arrive and tell us what he’d left to us. Then suddenly I realized that he was gone, and I’d never see him again, and this part of my life was truly over, because Connor wanted to sell the winery.”
Sloane realized she had been stirring her tiny cup of espresso the entire time she had been talking. She dropped the spoon into the saucer and buried her forehead in a hand. “I’m so sorry, Maria. I’ve been completely self-absorbed. For years. All I wanted was a life that was perfect, a life that everyone would envy. It was all Mom ever wanted for me, and she encouraged me to marry Alan, who I now realize was a total louse, even then. But he was rich, and she loved that about him.” Sloane bowed her head and shook it. “You must think I’m a terrible, shallow person.”
Maria said nothing for a moment, then reached across the table and touched Sloane’s hand. “I don’t think that.”
Sloane tried to pull herself together. She took a few calming breaths.
“Did Dad ever talk to you about us?” she asked. “Did he say he was disappointed? Or that he hated us?”
“He didn’t hate you,” Maria replied. “He loved you very much, and he