tiny lips before sinking into a deeper sleep. Just the act of holding her calmed Nina’s racing heart. Suddenly, it was as though her pretentious family or foolish husband didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was this tiny person. And doing whatever was needed to protect her from this world.
“But we can’t call her Celeste, of course,” Calvin put in as he squatted next to Nina, causing his pants to pull around his thick thighs. “After all, we’ve already got one of those, and she’s irreplaceable.”
He looked up at Grandmother exuberantly, reminding Nina of a soft-headed golden retriever looking to be pet for returning a ball. Instead, Celeste examined him as if he were gum on the bottom of one of her Stuart Weitzmans, then turned back to the baby.
“There is nothing wrong with honoring family with namesakes,” she said. “Many of the men in this family have borne variants of Jacob and Jonathan for four hundred years. No reason the women shouldn’t have their own traditions.”
Her thin, painted lips quirked at one side with satisfaction. It had actually been a last-minute decision to name the baby after Celeste. A sort of insurance, Nina supposed, done in a fit of panic at the hospital. But she could already see that might pay off one day.
Sometimes flattery did work with Celeste de Vries. If it was the right kind.
“Has she a middle name?” Grandmother asked as she hovered a finger over the baby’s angelic face. “We’ll call her by that. And for God’s sake, Nina, don’t tell me it’s Violet.”
Nina shook her head and peered down at her daughter. Warmth burned in her chest as the baby’s tiny hands curled into the bodice of her dress. The silk would wrinkle, but Nina couldn’t care less.
Nina could think of only one other place where she had ever felt such peace. A place with sunshine. Fields and fields of olive trees, as far as the eye could see. If she closed her eyes, she could bring herself back there. Grandmother could burn a note, but she couldn’t torch those memories.
“Yes,” Nina said, remembering the hue of the oil before Peppe would serve it to her on a drenched piece of focaccia. Golden. Warm. Just like this baby’s face in the firelight. “She does. It’s Olivia.”
Calvin frowned, clearly confused.
But Celeste didn’t look the slightest bit surprised.
“Olivia,” she said as her sharp eyes flashed with recognition. “Yes, Olivia. I see.”
Now
Chapter Thirteen
August 2018
Nina
“What time is it?” I asked Moira for the third time in the last ten minutes. “They should have landed by now.”
My assistant tapped her sturdy brown pump on the vinyl floors of the Thirty-Fourth Street Heliport lounge, then dutifully checked the Cartier watch I had given her as a Christmas gift two years ago. “Two oh three p.m., Mrs. Gardner. She’s a few minutes late, but they should be here any—oh, look, I think that’s them.”
I followed her finger toward the southeast horizon, where an aircraft had just appeared through the haze of the afternoon sun and smog over the crest of the Brooklyn Bridge.
Moira and I watched as the helicopter carrying Olivia, plus Jane and Eric, slowly landed. Once the heavy rotors started to slow, I pushed through the glass double doors and went out to meet my daughter.
“Mama!”
Olivia’s small voice still managed to carry over the remaining hum of the engine as she sprinted across the tarmac, small blonde braids flying in the wind. She looked like most children did after a summer spent outside—a bit windswept. I just managed to catch her as she flew into my arms and allowed me to fold her into a tight embrace.
“Hello, my love.”
I rocked her back and forth. It was the only time we were like this—after a long separation or when she was about to leave (which often happened at the same time). The rest of the time, we both struggled with open affection. But right now, we couldn’t bear to be apart.
“I missed you,” I whispered in her ear.
“Me too.”
She hugged me tighter for several more seconds before finally, to maybe both our regrets, she seemed to remember whom she was again. Or at least whom she was supposed to be. A member of the de Vries family, even if a Gardner by name.
“Is Daddy here?” she asked as she released me and looked around curiously, straightening her back.
“Oh, no, darling. He’s at his office. But I think he’ll be home tonight to see you.”
Was it my imagination, or did she