by Dani Collins
* * *
Viktor’s mother had been scheduled to go back to Budapest, but once she had heard he wanted to bring Rozi to see Aunt Bella, she had opted to stay and meet her, as well. Viktor couldn’t fault Mara Rohan for wanting to meet Rozalia, especially given the Trudi debacle, but he would rather she kept her nose out. Things were falling into place and he felt inordinately protective of what they had. His mother could be hard to take and he didn’t want Rozi’s tender feelings impacted.
“You don’t like it?” Rozi asked as she appeared in a sundress with a floral print. It wasn’t tailored, but it was tasteful and fit her beautifully. Even so, his mother would likely call it bohemian. Rozi’s loose hair and sun-kissed innocence were the complete opposite of the overgroomed sophisticates his mother always tried to steer him toward.
His mother was an unapologetic elitist. She never missed an opportunity to point out that she had married a count and, if things were different, would be eligible for the title of countess.
“You look lovely,” he assured Rozi, clearing his thoughts from his expression.
“Oh, this is charming,” she said a short while later as they approached the villa through his aunt’s small vineyard.
The grounds were well kept, the house modernized by his aunt over the years into a welcoming manor from the tomb-like ancestral seat he recalled from his visits as a child.
They were shown into the garden where his mother and aunt were situated on outdoor sofas, bright silk cushions tucked around them and a gazebo providing them shade. A fountain trickled nearby.
His aunt was quiet-natured and reclusive, but still quite elegant, always wearing a skirt and keeping her white hair in a tidy bun. His mother wore one of her couture skirt-and-jacket sets, her yellow collar popped so the points emphasized the strength in her jaw and the sharpness of her blue-green eyes.
“I didn’t think I could be more enchanted by the land of my roots, but I find myself in awe once again,” Rozi said to his aunt as he made the introductions. “Your garden is truly magical. A perfect place to relax and recuperate. I hope your ankle is improving?”
“It is. Thank you,” Aunt Bella said, visibly warming to Rozi.
Viktor caught his mother’s raised brow as she silently questioned his sharing family details with a stranger.
Niceties passed as Rozi asked after this or that flower and accepted a glass of lemonade. His mother waited until they were seated at the table for a meal overlooking the koi pond to take control of the conversation.
“I was quite surprised to learn there was anyone in America claiming to be related. All these years and never an inquiry.”
“You’re family from America?” Aunt Bella’s gaze sharpened on Rozi. Clearly his mother hadn’t warned her.
“We’re still trying to establish that,” his mother said with a flat, frosted smile.
“I’m not family,” Rozi said, touching her chest. “My cousin Gisella was supposed to come. She asked her mother, Alisz, if she wanted to accompany her. Alisz would be your niece,” she said to Bella. “And your cousin,” she said with a nod to Mara. “But her summer lecture schedule was already in place. She’s very well respected in academic circles in America. We have always assumed that was Istvan’s genes. The rest of us are more artsy, not nearly the intellectual that she is.”
“Istvan was terribly smart,” Bella agreed distantly, brows pulled into a frown of old grief and fresh consternation.
“We would need a blood test to determine whether this aunt of yours is actually Istvan’s daughter,” Mara reminded stiffly. “You would think she would have come forward before now if she is.”
“My grandfather, Benedek, always treated her very much as though she was his own. He was the only father she knew and she thought it would be disrespectful to him to search out blood ties with her biological father’s family while he was alive. After he passed, she was beyond having any curiosity about it. You probably wouldn’t have heard from any of us if her daughter, Gisella, and I weren’t obsessed with the earrings.”
“The ones that were stolen,” Mara said pointedly. “Am I to understand your cousin is in San Francisco right now, attempting to acquire what rightfully belongs to us?”
“Kaine Michaels bought it fair and square,” Viktor pointed out. Although, the man’s method had been a sledgehammer to a thumb tack, buying the whole damned estate in one fell swoop, locking Viktor’s representative out of the opportunity to bid at all.
Viktor had since had a message from Michaels that his fight wasn’t with him, but the missed chance was still annoying as hell.
“I don’t believe my grandmother did steal them,” Rozi said. “She’s simply not like that. I don’t know how the story got so turned around.”
“The story came straight from my mother,” Mara said, chilly and pointed. “She had it directly from her own mother. The earrings were stolen by a young woman who claimed to have a relationship with Istvan. She sold one in Budapest to pay for passage to America with her husband. That one made its way to my late mother-in-law. She gave it to me as a wedding gift. The other was sold in America and sat in a private collection for years until it surfaced a few months ago, when I asked Viktor to purchase it for me.”
“Oh, gosh, that’s not correct at all! Grandmamma wasn’t married when she went to America. She didn’t marry my grandfather until after my aunt Alisz was born. Istvan gave her the earrings and she sold one to pay for her passage. When she ran out of money in America, she sold the second one to my grandfather. She was alone with a new baby and he was opening his shop. They decided to marry and open the shop together. But she didn’t steal the earrings. Istvan gave them to her as an engagement promise. He was going to meet her in America and marry her there.”
“You’re wrong,” his mother began.
“Your grandmother is Eszti!” Bella said in a tone of shocked discovery.
Viktor wished he’d been watching his aunt, rather than closely monitoring whether his mother was upsetting Rozi. Aunt Bella was quite pale now, having taken in the nature of the controversy.
“Yes!” Rozi said with her brightest smile. “Grandmamma was Eszti Miska before she married Benedek Barsi. Do you remember her?”
“Oh, I see so much of her in you now. Oh, goodness.” Aunt Bella smiled mistily, fingers going to her throat. “Oh, yes, of course! She was such a lovely, warm, charming young woman. It was never any wonder to me why Istvan fell so hard for her. How is she?”
“Excellent. She was ill this winter but she’s recovering well. That’s why Gisella and I have been anxious to find the earrings and buy them back for her. She genuinely loved your brother. I know she’ll be so happy if she can at least hold the gift he gave her.”
“But he didn’t give them to her,” Mara insisted sharply.
“No,” Bella agreed. Her expression fell into anguished lines. “I did.”
CHAPTER NINE
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” Viktor’s mother’s eyes narrowed while Bella’s welled.
“I promised Viktor I wouldn’t upset you.” Rozi reached out to cover the older woman’s hand, feeling awful for distressing her. She seemed so nice and welcoming. “I’m so sorry. It must be a painful time to remember.”
“Very,” Bella agreed, squeezing back weakly. “And the lie was necessary at the time, but the truth would serve better today. Your mother only knew what our mother told our father,” Bella said to Mara. “Irenke was staying with friends that weekend.”
Irenke was Mara’s mother and the sister Bella shared with Istvan.
“She was called home when it was confirmed that Istvan had been killed in one of the demonstrations.”
Rozi set her other hand over their joined ones, bracing the older woman for the return of what she could see were agonizing memories.
“I longed to tell Irenke what had really happened, but she was
always very outspoken. I was afraid she would confront our father and he might very well have killed her himself if she went against him. He was a hard man. Heartless, at times. He and Istvan had terrible arguments. I’ve never been sure if Istvan joined the demonstrations out of genuine principle or simply to flout our father.”
She reached for her lemonade. Her hand shook as she sipped and swallowed.
“Our parents had been out for the evening. They had just arrived home when Eszti arrived. I went to the top of the stairs because I heard the shouting. Mother was crying. Father must have slapped Eszti. She was crying and holding her cheek.” Bella set her hand against her own cheek. “He called her a liar. Other terrible things. He threw her out. Then he told Mother to stop crying. He said, ‘He’s not dead. He can’t be.’” Bella moved her hand to her heart.
Rozi was totally focused on the older woman, unable to tear her eyes off her to see how Mara and Viktor were reacting.
“Mother came up the stairs and the look in her eyes... I knew Istvan was gone. I thought I would die myself. She said, That girl said she’s carrying his baby. Mother took off her earrings and put them in my hand.” Bella showed her empty palm. “She told me to go after her. To tell her to take Istvan’s baby somewhere safe. I caught Eszti at the gate. It was raining. We were both crying. She loved him so much. We hugged, but I had to get back before my father noticed I was outside. I never saw her again.”
She took another sip of lemonade, gaze slowly coming back from the past to rest on Rozi.
“The next time Mother was meant to wear the earrings was after the funeral. She told my father she had taken off her earrings when they entered the house, that she had left them on the table and Eszti must have taken them. It wasn’t until Dorika paid a visit to our parents to arrange your marriage that I learned Eszti had sold one for passage to America.” Bella spoke to Mara. “I’ve always wondered if there really was a baby.”
“Let me show you some photos of Aunt Alisz and Gisella.” Rozi quickly flicked through her phone and handed it to Bella.
“Oh, Mara, look. Tell me those aren’t your eyes.” She handed the phone to Mara.
The thick tension began to ease, but Rozi was left in a small cloud of melancholy. They talked a little more over their perfectly civil lunch. Bella was curious about the shop and Rozi made a point of showing off her ring. “Gisella made it. She’s extremely talented.”
Mara was less enthused, making a noncommittal noise that was so like one of Aunt Alisz’s lukewarm reactions, Rozi bit back a laugh.
“Show her the one you made for Gisella,” Viktor prompted, something in his tone telling her he knew his mother would prefer it.
“You made that?” Mara asked as she looked down her nose at the screen. “It’s eye-catching.”
Faint praise, but Rozi was pleased to earn it.
As they lingered over their coffee, Bella said she wanted to rest.
“Viktor will help you,” Mara said in a blatantly undisguised attempt to have some time alone with Rozi.
Viktor shot her a look as he rose to help his aunt.
Rozi smiled, not intimidated in the least.
“Do stay the night,” Bella urged Rozi. “I’d like to hear more about your aunt and cousin.”
“If Viktor can spare the time, of course.”
Mara narrowed her eyes as the two disappeared into the house. “Exactly what are you hoping to accomplish?” she asked bluntly.
“My goal was to buy the earring for my grandmother. I realize now that would cause her more pain than she already carries. That’s not your concern, though. Is it? You want to know if I have designs on Viktor.”
“I’m quite sure you do.”
Honestly, she was so much like Aunt Alisz, Rozi was struck with an urge to laugh with familiarity and cry with homesickness at the same time.
“We have a running joke in our family that Aunt Alisz is the one you go to for the advice you don’t want to hear. She’s very dispassionate in her delivery, but always has our family’s best interests at heart.”
“Bella is the one with the interest in your aunt and cousin,” Mara reminded with a cool smile.
“That was my attempt to varnish my reply,” Rozi clarified, tone as gentle as she could make it. “My intention is to let Viktor make up his own mind about me. I think it would be best for your relationship with him if you did the same.”
A handful of subtle emotions flickered across Mara’s expression. Affront, a shadow of guilt and pain. Sadness, and a sharper suspicion.
“We’re talking about the incident with Trudi? I will take some responsibility for her making certain assumptions about Viktor’s intentions. I had no idea she was capable of taking such a juvenile action. That’s extremely unfortunate and I regret how you were treated.”
“She owes me an apology. You don’t,” Rozi said, deliberately magnanimous. “And I can appreciate that having lost one son, you’re committed to securing Viktor’s future. That, like any mother, you want to see him settled and producing grandchildren. And perhaps you feel you owe some extra care and attention to helping him find a suitable partner, given how things turned out in the past.”
Mara looked to the side, profile stiff. “Well, he has been confiding, hasn’t he?”
“The other thing we say about Aunt Alisz is that she wears her heart up her sleeve, not on it, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure Viktor would not say the same about me.” She took a sip of her lemonade and there was only the tiniest shift in the ice cubes. She set down the glass. “It was a difficult time after his father died. His brother was having trouble taking on such a level of responsibility. I thought a supportive wife would help. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but at the time I believed she and Kristof were the better match. Had I realized Viktor would never forgive me, I would have acted differently.”
Rozi didn’t bother stating that this was Mara’s opportunity to act differently. She seemed like an intelligent woman.
Besides, Viktor emerged from the house and rejoined them. The conversation turned to other things.
* * *
Viktor caught his mother alone before dinner. He poured her wine and handed it to her, then waited for the inevitable barrage of disapproval.
“You’re not joining me?” she asked.
“I’ll wait for Rozi.” She’d gone up to change for dinner but seemed to be taking a long time.
“She said she would put me in touch with a watchmaker who could fix your grandmother’s watch so I could wear it again.”
“She’s quite passionate about vintage jewelry.”
“She’s different from your usual type.”
“If we’re comparing her to Trudi, or any of the other women you’ve earmarked for me, yes. Very.” She wasn’t even much like the young woman he’d once been so infatuated with. That girl had been from the right family with the smooth, aloof charm provided by a Swiss education. He couldn’t honestly remember what had attracted him so inexorably, only how crushed he had been that his brother had betrayed him and that his mother had been instrumental in turning her against him.
Which made sharp talons of protectiveness rise under his skin as he regarded his mother, awaiting her judgment on Rozi. If she had any thoughts of driving a wedge between them...
She caught his hard stare and lifted a negligent brow.
“I wouldn’t call it the most advantageous connection. Nor would it be the least. I wouldn’t be unhappy if you decided you were serious about her.”
“Try not to gush, Mother. You’re embarrassing both of us,” he drawled. At least she’d taken him at his word to remove herself from matchmaking.
His aunt arrived and he poured for her, then decided to go in search of Rozi. He found her dressed, but sitting on the edge of the bed, pale and shocked.
“What’s wrong?” He looked to the phone on the night table. “Bad news?”
“I threw up,” she said, sounding dazed. “I felt fine one minute, then it hit me like a train.”
“Food poisoning? You ate what I ate.” He touched her forehead and cheeks. Her skin was cool and damp, her hair was wet around her hairline, her makeup scrubbed clean. But she didn’t feel feverish. She smelled of toothpaste and her color was coming back.
“I don’t know.” Her fretful gaze met his.
“Morning sickness?” He sat down beside her, head swimming as possibility became probability. “It’s evening.” He found himself trying to manage his expectations, so he wouldn’t be let down. “You haven’t even taken a test. When do symptoms usually start?”
“I don’t know.” Her expression was bewildered. “I know it’s usually worse in the first trimester. I’ll look it up later. It’s probably something else.”
He took her hand, finding her palm clammy. “Do you want to stay here and rest?”
“I feel fine now.” She sounded exasperated. “But what if it’s a virus? I don’t want to get your aunt sick.”
“I think we both know it’s not a virus. I’m not sick.” They spent a lot of time with their lips locked, breathing each other’s panted breaths.
“No,” she agreed faintly.
“You should eat something. If you can.” The shields of protectiveness that had been pushing out of him and forming around her over the last week developed a second, softer layer. He wanted to full-on coddle her.
She nodded and came downstairs with him.
The evening passed pleasantly with Rozi relaxing as the sickness seemed to have abated. She filled his aunt’s ears with stories about her aunt’s and cousin’s accomplishments. Even his mother seemed interested as Rozi described the work they did at the shop.