Chapter Twenty
Carlo glanced through the office. There were security bars on the windows and two cameras in the corners that filmed everyone that entered the room and everything the staff did.
The fleet manager, who’d seen him with Simone at Rebecca’s desk, approached him.
“There’s more security here than when I flew for Carlevaro Air,” Carlo said, following the man into his office.
The manager indicated that he should sit down, but Carlo declined, going to the wide window, which overlooked the tarmac, instead.
“We had a petty cash theft last year of more than ten thousand dollars. Sometimes we need to fork out cash for fuel, otherwise we don’t keep such large amounts,” the fleet manager explained. “Peppe installed the cameras as a preventative measure.”
Carlo remembered Peppe had mentioned the theft in his quarterly report, and that the issue had been resolved. It still didn’t sound legitimate, but he would give anything to have a mere petty cash theft to deal with right now. “Do you ever review the camera footage?” He hadn’t noticed any cameras on the outside of the building.
“We’d only do that in the case of an incident. We’ve had no incidents since the cameras were installed.”
Carlo sighed. “And you are going back to Canada?” The manager had cut his two-year expatriate contract short.
“Yes. Can’t stand this weather.” He laughed. “I’m leaving in three weeks.” The manager settled his hands on his hips. “Ideally I would like to do a proper handover to the new fleet manager.”
“I know. The new executive team must ultimately decide, but,” Carlo paused, “you can take Simone Levin off your list of candidates.”
The manager nodded, but passed him a searching glance. “She is the best candidate for the job.”
“Probably.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve another position in mind for her. In the interim, make sure Simone no longer flies overnight flights.”
“Sure,” said the manager.
Carlo turned to see Simone come through the security door. She stopped by Rebecca’s desk, briefly talking to her, checking something in the logbook.
He wished the manager well and met up with Simone.
“Let’s go,” Simone said as she met his gaze, her voice tense.
He glanced again at the contents of the safe. It was a neat little setup. Rows of single keys, sometimes two, hung on hooks. There was one hook with a key that looked out of place, but then the pattern continued. Labels above the keys indicated the aircraft to which each specific slot belonged.
He took his suitcase and followed in Simone’s footsteps, but something made him turn back and look again at the safe. Rebecca had closed the safe and twisted the knob to lock it.
He swore under his breath. He couldn’t blame Simone for being on edge; he couldn’t focus on anything, except the day ahead.
****
Carlo helped the taxi driver with their luggage and scooted in next to Simone on the synthetic fur that covered the seat. He leaned back with resignation. It was like being in a sauna, bar the smell of cheap car deodorizer, which dangled on the rearview mirror. Sweat started trickling down his neck.
Simone leaned forward and in Swahili asked the driver to close the windows and put the air conditioner on.
“Your Swahili is very good,” he said. “You’ve made an effort.”
“I know enough to get by.” She shrugged. “I’ll never be a native speaker like Liz or Ross. I took some lessons for a while and that helped.”
He sensed she was unhinged. The rings under her eyes were darker, and she bit down on her jaw.
“It’s going to be fine, Simone,” he said, as much to calm her as to calm himself.
She stared out of the window, and after a moment, she exhaled a slow breath. “You should hear Sarah speak Swahili. She’s too cute.”
His stomach contracted at the small detail she’d shared with him. They hadn’t spoken much about her, and he hadn’t asked Simone for a photo yet, as he was about to meet her in person. Imagine a daughter that spoke Swahili.
“She’s learning from the nanny?” he asked, trying to sound neutral about the inevitable nanny situation.
Simone nodded.
“What else can you tell me…about our daughter?” he asked softly, hoping she would relax enough to let the floodgates open.
She stared at him. “Please start calling her Sarah. I know it must hurt like hell, but that was all I had to go on.”
He swallowed at the intense powerlessness he felt. He took hold of her hands, which were clamped together in her lap. “This will be real when I’ve met her, seen her.”
She allowed him to take her hand but pulled away after he’d held it for a second.
“I would have insisted on calling her that, in any case,” he added, then cursed inwardly; the name would just not come up when he spoke.
They drove in silence for a while.
Simone stroked some wisps of hair from her face and checked her watch. Her fingers trembled. “We should be there in ten minutes.”
“What else can you tell me about…Sarah,” he forced her name, “that would make this smooth sailing?” He had no idea how to deal with children; it was a program in his system that had never been switched on, and one he’d consciously avoided. His siblings were still a handful, as it were.
She turned to him. “She is bright, a chatterbox, loves hugs and cuddles, and is a pure blessing.” Her eyes begged the words she hadn’t allowed to leave her mouth.
Don’t fuck her up.
He shifted in his seat. The stakes were high, and he held the weakest hand here. He was going to have to fake it until he made it. “What are her interests?” As soon as he asked the question he felt stupid, as if he was trying to ease into a blind date.
“Princesses, of course. Flowers. And fairies. And castles and…the idea of a prince.” Simone skipped a beat. “I’ve tried not to disillusion her.”
His spirits sank lower.
“She’s a little girl, Carlo.”
Right. Despite the air conditioning blowing full blast in the car, the sweat trickled faster down his back.
“No dragons or witches. Don’t even mention dinosaurs.”
He nodded. No dragons. No witches. Zero dinosaurs.
He had a shitload to catch up on.
They sat in silence for the rest of the trip, and he got trapped thinking about dragons and dinosaurs, and the last time he’d been this nervous. It was the first Carlevaro International directors’ board meeting he’d led after his father’s death. The bunch of first generation directors had, systematically, torn him to shreds. That initiation was a walk in the park.
The taxi pulled up to the solid security gate outside of a four-story apartment block that had been in the foundation phase when he’d left. It was well kept, freshly painted with no telltale signs of tropical rust or city dirt clinging to the walls. Windows blinked in the sharp sun. The exterior of the building reassured him. At least Simone didn’t live in a dump with his daughter.
“Ours is on the third floor,” Simone said as they got out of the car and collected their luggage.
“Sea views?” It was obvious from the location, but he needed some idle talk.
“Yes.” Simone called the security guard through the gate and as he recognized her voice he wheeled the gate open.
“Lifts?”
She laughed. “Yes, the generator kicks in during power cuts.”
There was a glimpse of a paved driveway, some grass, some palm trees and a fenced-in pool as the gate rolled open. He followed Simone, carrying her backpack and pulling their suitcases, as she rummaged for her apartment key in a bag she’d extracted from her backpack.
They entered the property and he took a deep breath, readying himself as they headed to the lobby.
“Mommy!” It was a high-pitched burst, followed by the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard. Little feet pattered over the pavement and a ball rolled to his feet. He dropped the suitcases and turned. There she was, unmistakably his little Sarah. Her blonde curls bobbed wildly with each step she took, and she all but leaped into Simone’s arms as Simone crouched down to catch her.
Simone laughed as she straightened and hugged Sarah close. Little arms circled her neck, chubby fingers disappeared into Simone’s curls, and a pink princess dress puffed around Sarah’s legs. “I missed you, my darling,” Simone whispered, her voice strained.
“Missed you too, Mommy,” Sarah said, straddling Simone’s hips. After a long hug, Sarah pulled away and took Simone’s cheeks in her palms and nudged her closer. They rubbed noses, Sarah clumsily, and he melted at the tender intimacy of the moment.
“Ekimo kiss,” Sarah giggled, and Simone chuckled with a sniff, before breaking the bond.
“I’ve got someone you need to meet,” Simone said. Sarah hadn’t noticed him, and at Simone’s words, his hammering heart did double beats at a time. Simone turned to him, settling Sarah more comfortably on her hip.
Panic shot through him. He hadn’t discussed any of this with Simone. He would loathe being introduced as anything else than what he overwhelmingly wanted to be in that moment, a father, a knight, a first prince.
As he got a full view of Sarah for the first time he had to blink. She was a little Julia, a miniature version of his mother, staring back at him, with eyes so gray it was like staring into a mirror at his own.
“This is your daddy, Sarah,” Simone said, “and his name is Carlo.”
Sarah’s gray gaze took him in, her expression going from happy to bland, to a slight measuring up as her eyes narrowed and her lips pouted just a bit. “Really?”
“Yes, darling,” Simone said firmly, her voice stripped of misgiving and doubt.
After a few infinite seconds, Sarah said, “You very late,” while staring him straight in the eyes.
He could not help the grin, and his heart opened up all four chambers to fill with something he couldn’t define. “Frightfully,” he said, as he bit down his nervousness. “I’m sorry, too many dragons to fight, and a wicked wizard cast an evil spell over my sister, Julia.” He raised his hand to twirl a rogue curl of Sarah’s hair between his fingers. It was so soft, like an angel’s. “She’s a princess like you, and I had to free her from his evil spell.”
Sarah’s eyes had widened with every word, and he could feel how his estimation rose, bit by bit.
“Really?” Sarah asked, unquestioning belief shining from her eyes.
He nodded solemnly, grasping in the same breath that every word had been dreadfully true. “It took longer than I ever imagined.” He dropped his hand, amazed that Sarah had allowed him to touch her. “But here I am.”
“Tell all about it,” Sarah said. And just like that she struggled from Simone’s arms to the ground and grabbed his hand. “Come. Ruthie’s said it’s snack time.”
His fingers clasped the small hand in his. Hers was warm and soft, and as her hand disappeared in his much bigger one, he was as lost forever as he’d been found in one moment.
He met Simone’s gaze; her eyes were moist, but her lips smiled. “You’re a natural,” she mouthed.
He glowed at her words, with warmth he hoped to never shed. Sarah tugged him toward the pool, and he had to drop the backpack.
A tall African woman hovered a couple of meters from them. Nothing about her said British nanny. She wore a dress made from colorful local fabric, her braided hair twisted in a bun. Her whole face smiled as Sarah rushed toward her, calling, “Ruthie, my baba!” as they drew closer.
My baba. My father. His two cents’ worth of Swahili was worth a million dollars in that moment.
Ruth smiled and stuck out her hand. He shook it with a swallow. Not sure what Simone had told Ruth about him, he said, “Carlo Carlevaro, nice to meet you.”
Ruth’s eyes told him nothing, as she’d dropped her gaze.
Before anything else could pass, Simone drew Ruth into a quick hug. “Thank you for taking care of Sarah.”
“It’s always a pleasure.” Ruth laughed, a true, sweet laugh as she stooped to tickle Sarah on her belly.
Sarah giggled back and that almost settled it for him. Ruth didn’t seem to have a wicked bone in her body.
“I’ll help you with the bags and be on my way.” Ruth picked up Simone’s backpack and suitcase where they had dropped it.
Sarah tugged at his hand, gazing up at him earnestly. “When Mommy work, Ruthie’s here. Mommy here, Ruthie go home.”
“I see,” he said. “Sounds like Ruthie needs a break.”
“Mommy too.”
He would have laughed if Sarah hadn’t nailed it. He took his suitcase; Simone had Sarah’s ball in her hand and together they went into the lobby. As they took the lift Sarah still clung to his hand. “We bakeded cookies.”
“Just baked, darling,” Simone corrected gently.
As they reached the landing Carlo leaned closer to Sarah’s ear. “Maybe we can make Mommy a cup of tea,” he stage-whispered. “And you can put some cookies on a plate for her.”
Sarah’s eyes, bright and full of life, shone at him. “A tea party!”