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I slowly shake my head, closing my eyes briefly. “What are you talking about? Is this about your fictional account of the history of this house?”
“No.”
“Then where are the pictures you have ofmygreat grandfather?”
“They burned in a house fire my mom had several years ago.”
“Convenient.”
Serena frowns. “I’d hardly call it convenient.”
“It’s convenient that you’re trying to make claim to this house. And from what little I heard you tell my mom, I think you’re trying to imply your great grandmother was the great love of my great grandfather’s life.”
“She was. And if I find the hidden spot where he put letters from my great grandmother, Afina, and photos of them, then you’ll see the true history of this house.”
I chuckle. I can’t help it. This is … crazy. “And you’re writing their story?”
Her head bounces into a noncommittal nod. “Well, I’m writing her story, and he’s part of it. She was orphaned. Then homeless. She was a survivor and very brave.”
“And she got influenza?”
Serena nods.
“And she died in this house?”
Another nod.
“If … and it’s a big if … what you’re saying is true, why do you think my great grandfather said Afina was a cat that died? Seems pretty insensitive to ‘the love of his life’ don’t you think?”
She shrugs. “I think he loved your great grandmother. If he was the man my great grandmother described in her journal, if his letters to her were true, then he was a good man. The kind of man who would love someone enough to make her feel like his first love even if she wasn’t. I don’t think true love is rare; I think what’s rare is the ability to truly love. I think good people recognize the abundance of love, the heart’s ability to infinitely expand.”
I nod several times. “Sure. I’ll take your word for it.”
She returns a shy smile. “Are you broken, Henry? Or have you not found your Afina? Are you still looking for the right person to crack open your heart and let your love flow freely?”
On a nervous laugh, I shake my head. “Is that what you think this Afina person did for my great grandfather?”
“I do.”
“And who have you loved? Who opened your heart?”
“Well, I think the story of Afina and Hermann opened my heart as a young girl. I’ve loved. I’ve been married.”
I can’t help my surprise. “Really?”
“Yes. I married my publicist. He died of a heart attack. He died on Christmas morning.”
Oh fuck … is she serious?
“Hence you not celebrating Christmas …”
With a half smile, she shrugs.
“I’m an asshole.”
“Only for losing the family home, but it worked out for me, so I’m not complaining.”
“It’s not that simple.”
