Once Touched, Never Forgotten - By Natasha Tate Page 0,40
jewelry box across the table toward Emma, who in turn exclaimed with pleasure before pulling off the pink bow and grappling with the lid. She resisted Colette’s offer to help, her childish efforts notching her brow and catching her tongue between her teeth. When she finally figured out the hinges at the back, it was with undisguised pride in her own abilities that she opened the box and peered inside.
Emma, who normally had a comment for everything, was rendered momentarily speechless.
“Oh, look,” said Colette, her chest tightening as she leaned sideways to see the delicate gold chain and pendant nestled within. “It’s a necklace.”
Emma nodded soundlessly, her blue eyes wide and shining.
“It’s very beautiful, don’t you think?”
She arched back to whisper in Colette’s ear. “It’s a princess necklace!” she divulged in an excited puff of warm breath. “With a crown on it!”
It was the perfect gift, exquisitely perfect, in fact, and Colette lifted blurring eyes to gauge Stephen’s reaction. He was watching their daughter, his smile uncharacteristically uncertain around the edges.
“What do you say?” she prompted Emma.
Emma gasped in belated recollection of her manners, and then launched herself off Colette’s lap. Before Colette had registered her intent, Emma had raced around the table and wrapped her arms as far as they could reach around Stephen’s chair and waist. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you!”
For a beat of silence Stephen’s surprised gaze held Colette’s, before he leaned sideways to return Emma’s hug. “You’re welcome, sweet,” he said before clearing his throat. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”
Emma nodded her enthusiasm, placed the box in his broad palm, and then swung to present her back, lifting her curls and tipping her head forward without a moment’s hesitation.
Once he’d fastened the clasp, she lifted her chin and fingered the tiny gold and pearl crown. “Do I look like a princess, Momma?” she asked.
Colette blinked back her tears and nodded while Stephen answered in a gruff voice, “You don’t just look like a princess, you are a princess.”
“I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I think you managed to find the only modern-day castle within a hundred miles of New York,” Colette observed three weeks later as Stephen welcomed them into the new home he’d purchased in the East Hamptons. With its long halls of checkered marble, heavy chandeliers, dual curved staircases, and an entry foyer that could accommodate the entire New York Senate, it was large enough to host state balls of fairytale proportions.
“I promised our little princess a castle, and I always deliver on my promises,” Stephen answered as he offered his hand to their daughter. “Emma, would you like to see the movie theater or the indoor pool first?”
“Yes!” she answered, reaching for his outstretched hand and jumping forward to stand by his denim-clad thigh. “C’mon, Momma!”
Emma, more excited than Colette had ever seen her, skipped alongside Stephen as he led them on a tour of each wing of the colonial mansion. He showed them a six-car garage, countless bedrooms, a giant gourmet kitchen, and multiple entertaining rooms of various sizes while Emma exclaimed over every new discovery.
“Can we play hide ‘n’ seek?” she asked, after they’d explored the extensive exterior grounds.
“Maybe later,” answered Colette. “Right now, I’m worried you’d get lost and I’d never find you.” Dressed in a caramel-colored wrap skirt, blue oxford and espadrilles, Colette had trailed behind Stephen and Emma for the entire tour, feeling inexplicably tense. Colette’s tiny home would have fit inside Stephen’s a good dozen times, and the sheer size of the place overwhelmed her. Though it was beautiful beyond Colette’s wildest imaginings, it reminded her of a fantasy getaway, or a mausoleum she doubted could ever feel like a real home.
Emma, on the other hand, thought it was perfect, and she spent the next half-hour rushing pell-mell down the interior hallways, exploring nooks and crannies and investigating the maze of cupboards beneath the stairs.
Colette would have thought watching a small child explore with no particular destination in mind would have bored Stephen to distraction, but it hadn’t. He was proving to be a wonderful father to Emma: kind, patient, and involved. In fact, if she were honest with herself, he was everything she’d hoped he might be with their daughter. So why wasn’t she happier about it? And why, like now, when he looked at her with those blue eyes of his, did her every cell seem to come alive with yearning? Ever since she’d called a halt to their