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“What did you say?”
“He wanted to buy the vineyard from us for five point five mill.”
“Whoa! And you never even brought it to my attention? What did you tell him? I thought we agreed all decisions concerning the vineyard would be discussed and decided by both of us.”
“You agreed, sweetheart. I’m not interested in selling the vineyard because that’s not what my father or uncle would have wanted. I don’t care how much he’s offering; I’m not interested. It stays in the family. Look, I know what’s best for the vineyard, and I don’t want to argue with you on this. I love you,” he says, trying to soothe my ruffled feathers.
I have no desire for my husband to sell the family property to Mr. DeLuca, but I thought he respected me enough to bring it to my attention or discuss it with me first. I thought we were on the same page. We’re not, but I won’t argue with him here in the restaurant of the man in question.
I push negative thoughts of my husband’s potential affiliation with the DeLucas from my mind and focus on enjoying the remainder of our dinner.
“I love you more, Carlo,” I say in a tone that lets him know we’ll discuss this later.
Our night is going well, and despite the earlier disagreement over the DeLuca offer, we have both calmed down and immersed ourselves in the evening. Zoe is a source of joy and entertainment for my husband and me.
Right now, I hope this anniversary dinner that we’re having will remain peaceful. Carlo doesn’t know I have purchased tickets for the theater tonight to see Motown at the Fox Theatre. After that, we’ll be spending the night at The Georgian Terrace. That’s the only thing he knows about; the play is a surprise for him.
I need to text Mom to ensure she and Dad have landed, as they’re supposed to keep Zoe overnight. Once I’ve confirmed they have landed and are on their way home, I settle in to enjoy my evening with my favorite two people.
“Mommy, I gotta go,” Zoe says, kicking her legs back and forth.
“Okay, honey. Baby, would you order dessert? We’ll be right back,” I say, leaning down to kiss my husband.
“You want to share?” he asks, smiling at me as Zoe prances away.
“Zoe, honey, wait!” I call after her. Turning to my husband, I reply, “Sounds great.”
I turn again and see that Zoe’s gotten pretty far ahead of me. She knows where the restroom is because I took her when we first arrived to wash our hands. But still, she’s too young to be going off by herself.
I pick up the pace to catch up with my daughter’s bouncing blondish-brown, curly ponytails.
She’s about twenty feet ahead of me when a loud explosion and heat waves take over our world, and I’m thrown backward against a wall as Zoe’s little body flies through the air.
Zoe? Where’s my baby? I try to move to get my baby, but I can’t move. There is no feeling in my legs, and as I try to force them to move, they won’t.
I feel a blistering white heat take over my body, and the screams I’m pushing out won’t escape my throat. Where is my daughter?
Zoe! Zoe! I scream in my mind, but it won’t come out. Where is she? I think I hear my baby’s screams. Or are those my screams? I’m not sure.
Carlo? Where’s my husband? I look at our table, and it doesn’t exist anymore. There’s blood everywhere. Noooo!!!
It feels like a heavy blanket is weighing me down, and I can’t move. I can’t see, and the voices sound far away like I’m underwater. I escape into the darkness.
