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Giuseppe could have gotten offended by her obvious smart remark, but he chose to remain cordial, even if it pained him.
“I am Giuseppe Ricci looking to speak with the person in charge, Mr. or Ms. Barbieri, please.”
“Hold a second, please.”
Giuseppe was willing to wait but not too long. If the receptionist thought she could have him hold indefinitely, he would call back and demand what he should have been able to merely ask for.
“This is Mr. Barbieri. How can I be of assistance?”
Giuseppe breathed a little easier when he got the man in charge on the phone. He conveyed to Mr. Barbieri what he needed without saying why.
And I need Valentina found quickly,” Giuseppe continued.
They discussed the length of time Luciano Barbieri thought it would take and the cost.
“Do what it takes to get it done. You have my number. Call me with an update as soon as you have something, anything.”
“I will call in a week despite the outcome.”
Giuseppe felt at least partially satisfied with the call, but he wasn’t completely satisfied with the outcome. He still didn’t have Valentina. Giuseppe would still focus all his effort on finding her. He would not be satisfied until he did.
Isotta found it difficult to bide the time she had before needing to speak to Massimo again. She vacillated between being frightened, pissed off, and yet longing for him because there was a part of her that truly loved him. The anger was difficult to quiet. Isotta struggled against it. The feelings of sadness and trepidation were overshadowed, summarily blackened out by the rage that brewed on the inside. The anger raced through her thoughts like a runaway train, wreaking havoc as it moved unabashedly along the tracks, leaving pure death and destruction in its wake. When Isotta felt like that, there was nothing anyone could say or do to quiet the noise in her head and in her soul.
Isotta tried to find ways to occupy her thoughts other than anger. They were physical ways of exercise to occupy her head space. She didn’t engage with her family during her angry periods because there was nothing either of them could say that could quell her frustration. And when she had worn herself out, made herself so tired that it became too difficult to think, Isotta took long, steamy, hot showers to zap the rest of her energy. Then she slept from exhaustion. That’s all she had left and the only thing left to do.
The next morning, the day Isotta was supposed to respond to Massimo, she decided it was imperative that she talk to her family. Isotta still desired to know where her sister was. Her heels could be heard creating a rhythmic beat as she padded down the hallway, arriving at the breakfast nook to find her grandmother and parents there. There was acknowledgment, but not verbally. They looked up, saw her, and acknowledged her. Isotta expected it as she sat down at the table to join them. There was still no verbal acknowledgment of Isotta’s presence, just the occasional eye contact that signified they knew she was there.
Breakfast was served, and the family began to eat quietly. Isotta grew increasingly agitated, not by the silence but by feeling ignored as though her presence didn’t matter. Had she been gone long enough that her family had forgotten her?
“Where is my sister?” Isotta asked, ensuring she looked in her parents and her grandmother’s direction as she spoke.
Francesco and Celestina’s actions and chewing paused. Their eyes widened as they sat dumbfounded, not knowing how to respond. Costanza didn’t miss a beat, though, continuing to enjoy her breakfast without missing a beat. Isotta eyed Costanza.
“Grandmother, where is my sister? We all know that unless you give my parents permission to speak, they won’t say anything.” Isotta’s irritation with the situation started to spill over, and she found it difficult to restrain. She refused to drop her steady gaze at the grandmother. Isotta’s stare was unrepentant and unapologetic. She meant it. Costanza didn’t flinch as her granddaughter visually assaulted her; however, she did pause. Then, when Isotta didn’t back down, Costanza stopped eating, wiped the corners of her mouth, and returned the glare. No words were exchanged, at least not initially.
Isotta’s look at her grandmother didn’t waiver, not in the least bit. Celestina wanted to break the biting moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so, Francesco interjected. He must have had a similar thought.
“Beloved Isotta,” he started, feigning a smile as though it came off real.
Costanza held up her hand, halting her son’s words, the remainder remaining in his throat. Costanza didn’t immediately break the silence that came thereafter. She contemplated how she would respond. She could answer haughtily as expected, cutting Isotta to the quick with voraciously biting words. But Constanza had seen how that worked with her son. It had not gone as well as she had anticipated, which gave her pause when it came to her granddaughter.
Costanza’s lack of verbal response nearly set Isotta further on edge. She did what she could to remain silent, but that had become increasingly difficult the quieter her grandmother remained. Isotta pushed her chair back and stood up, steadily eying the head of the family. She even scowled, her top lip sliding slightly up, showing her teeth. Constanza’s gaze slowly lifted until she met Isotta’s continued glare. It gave her pause despite the scowl.
“Excuse me. We made a family decision that served the family best. Our primary goal was to solidify the Conti place, and we’ve done that.”
“So, why is she still not here, back at home with us? Why is she still gone?” Isotta demanded. Her raised voice caused her parents’ gaze to widen and become fixed on Constanza.
Your questions are not without merit,” Constanza commented. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’ve raised them again and are demanding answers.”
“Where is my sister? Is se alive? Dead?” Isotta further insisted. “I have to know. I deserve to know!”
“You are right,” Constanza surprisingly agreed. You deserve an answer.”
Celestina looked hopeful, but Francesco looked tempestuous and unsettled.
“Is she dead or alive?” Isotta asked, enunciating between tightly clenched teeth. “Tell me now.” Isotta’s eyes darted between her parents and then landed back on her grandmother. She refused to be denied.
“Valentina is alive.”
