The dining room with a gigantic oak table and stained-glass windows looked charming. Bows and swords were hanging on the walls; their age probably exceeded the year of the construction of this estate. I thought that Damiano would absolutely adore this place (he loved history and periodically wandered through museums and historical buildings) and promised myself to photograph everything for him.
— Ah! Come in, come in, — at the table sat the newlyweds, Nick, and an unfamiliar woman. She wasn’t young, but there were almost no wrinkles on her face; her age was given away by deep brown eyes that shimmered with wisdom and endured pain, and the rare gray in her hair, which reminded me of Ella’s natural hair color: a soft blonde that shimmered gold in the sun. I caught myself staring at her in admiration. Stupidly blinking, I approached and sat down across from Nick.
— This is my mother — Loretta De Ville, — Philip introduced the woman.
— Nice to meet you, dear, what’s your name? — she turned to Ella while I was serving myself some food and started eating, watching my friend’s reaction.
— Elizabeth, Ma’am, — she replied. — Just Ella.
— Why not Beth or Lizzy?
— My mom calls me Lilibet, says it sounds like I’m Elizabeth II, while others got used to calling me Ella, — my friend quickly shot a glance at Nick, of course, he also called her Lilibet.
— Your mother is right, — Mrs. De Ville noted and took a sip from her glass of water, — although I prefer just Beth. You won’t mind if I call you that?
— No, — my friend smiled. I raised my eyebrows slightly but said nothing.
— So, are you and Nick a couple? — the woman began.
— Mother! — Philip replied with a gentle reproach in his voice.
— Don’t argue with me, — Loretta warned just as sweetly. — Nick is almost my fourth son, — I thought about how Matthew’s parents would react to this. — Mrs. De Ville, I assure you, it’s better to ask Nick for the details, — Ella interjected, and I swear she blushed slightly.
— Child, first of all, don’t call me that. Call me mom like they all do, — she gestured to everyone present except me, — or Lori. And second, do you really think he will tell me anything?
— I always tell you everything! — Nick remarked with a laugh, as if outraged by such a statement.
— Well, just look at this liar! — Loretta turned to him. In her eyes, there was really a maternal affection for each one: Lilia, Philip, Nick, even for Ella, whom she had only just met. When everyone finally stopped laughing, the woman was about to turn to me, but the door opened, letting in a light cold breeze that swept across my legs.
There was something entirely different in Loretta's eyes; I thought with surprise that it was sympathy and a shadow of heavy memories. Leo entered the dining room.
— Benny, — Mrs. De Ville whispered quietly.
— Mom, — the guy nodded stoically and sat down to eat. I watched this like I was enchanted, and then, feeling as if electric current was running through the room.
Finally, I stood up and thanked them for the wonderful meal, Ella looked at me almost pleadingly; it seemed she didn’t want to stay here alone. Neither did I...
— Girl! — I instinctively felt someone was addressing me. — You’ve hardly eaten anything.
— Sorry, I’m not hungry anymore, enjoy your meal, everyone, — and I hurried out of the room. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. Running to my bedroom, I quickly changed and wrapped myself in a blanket.
Half an hour later, Ella came in, took something, and left, while I pulled a book from my bag and sat on the windowsill. I must have been deeply engrossed, as I woke up the next morning in the same position, with the book in my hands.
Someone covered me with a red cotton blanket. Neither Sara nor Ella were in the room.
— Gorgeous weather, isn’t it? — Sara asked, her appearance impressed me: a solid violet swimsuit, white flip-flops, and sunglasses. The girl spread her arms as if wanting to hug the whole world and smiled like an idiot.
— Where on earth are you off to? It’s 18 degrees outside! — I replied.
— Swimming. Can’t you see?
— Wait for me! — Ella yelled from the open window. My eyebrows shot up.
I had no idea what was going on. The girls grabbed towels and headed somewhere along the pebble path. No sooner had I turned than Loretta’s figure appeared from the house. Her figure was almost perfect. A black swimsuit, black sunglasses, and a black shawl. She reminded me of Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” The woman walked past me, throwing something like, “— Good morning.” I was incredibly curious to see what they had, so I turned onto the pebble path and followed them. Around the corner, a charming landscape opened up: a stone staircase leading down, over which green olive tree branches hung, and below was a plateau with an oval-shaped pool, the water in which was so hot that steam rose above it, and right next to it was a slope from which one could easily dive into quite cold waters at this time.