Savage Pride

4

My parents use a golf cart to shuttle them back and forth between Hardwick and their cottage. Fitting all six of us is a tight squeeze, so Gia and I offer to walk to the main house. We prefer to catch up privately, anyway. Mom and the younger girls quickly dismiss joining us because of the rising heat. I can’t totally fault them. It’s not even a quarter of a mile between the main house and our cottage, but it can feel like longer when the sun amplifies the humidity. They slide into their seats and wave as the cart lurches forward. “This may not be your ideal vacay, but I’m glad you’ll be around to keep me company.” Gia bumps my shoulder as we walk through the tall grass. “I’m happy to help. Mom just makes me twitchy.” “Mom? There isn’t someone else that made you hesitant to join us at the main house?” Even an older sister as angelic as Gia finds joy in goading a younger sibling. “You’re right. Livia is more obnoxious than ever.” Gia snorts. “You know that’s not who I meant.” I shoot her a look from the side of my eye. “If it’s Zeno you’re referring to, I’d have to care in order for him to rile me up. He hasn’t been a part of my world in a very, very long time.” “I suppose. Some people stay with us no matter how long it’s been since we were close.” Her words resonate with me in a way I don’t care to analyze. “You sound awfully sage for someone who’s hardly stepped foot from her Hardwick bubble.” She shrugs. “You don’t have to live in the city to learn to read people.” “You’re right, of course, except that there are a lot more learning opportunities when there are more people. You would have loved my world literature professor last semester. Maybe you two would have hit it off, but I guess we’ll never know.” “Is that the same guy you told me had a stain on every shirt he owned?” A laugh tumbles past my lips from deep in my belly. “Yeah, but that’s why he needs someone like you. Someone who loves to take care of people.” Gia shakes her head, but the corners of her lips hook upward. “One more year?” “Yeah, I’ve got just enough money saved up for tuition and expenses so that I can limit how many hours I have to work. I’m so ready to get my degree and move on.” “It’s been, what? Five years?” “Almost six,” I grumble. “But I’ve done it all mostly on my own.” “Who cares if you had to spread it out so that you had time to work— that makes it all the more impressive. You’re so determined!” “I am now, but that wasn’t the case early on. If I’d gone straight to college when I graduated high school, I could have been finished by now. Better late than never, right?” “Absolutely.” Two birds lift off from the grassy covering ahead of us, drawing my eyes skyward. The sun is pushing higher in a clear sky that promises to be a perfect summer day. “What else has been going on around here that I might have missed?” I talk to my sister regularly on the phone, but she is always more tight-lipped than when we talk in person. She’s one of those maddening internal processors who doesn’t think to pass on information. It’s not that she necessarily makes it a habit not to gossip, but it simply doesn’t occur to her. I have to draw the information out if I ever want to learn anything. As I said, it’s maddening. “Nothing, really. Like Mom said, Anna, the kitchen girl, quit. Well, she didn’t quit so much as disappear. She was with us for nearly six months when … poof. Gone. She just never showed up for work one day. People do that all the time, but I didn’t expect it from her.” “How strange!” I think back to whether I’d met the girl and draw a blank. I rarely see the other staff when I visit and have only been home once during the past six months. I may not have met her, but a sudden departure doesn’t necessarily surprise me. Mom supervises the in-house workers, so I could understand if the girl had gotten so fed up that she walked away. If I worked for my mom, I would probably do the same. I refrain from sharing that thought with Gia. She’d just point out that Mom does the best she can. In my opinion, that’s a convenient excuse for bad behavior. It’s right up there with “boys will be boys.” Bullshit. People will behave as poorly as they are allowed to behave. Mom could stop putting my parents in debt with her ridiculous spending, but she doesn’t seem to care. She only thinks of herself. Sometimes, I wonder if living among the rich has given her a false sense of entitlement—as though she has a right to own all the pretty things she sees. I can’t explain the source of her issues, but it’s been an incessant drain on our family. Even more of a mystery is why my father doesn’t stop her. As far as I can tell, he gave up trying with her long ago. Their entire relationship confounds me, though, so I don’t try to understand because I’ll only end up more confused. As we near the house, its stone exterior comes into view, surging up over the treetops. A clearing encircles the house with perfectly manicured green grass like a blank wall highlighting the masterpiece of architectural design at its center. I would venture to guess not a penny was spared on its construction. I was told growing up that the home was originally built by a steel magnate akin to Rockefeller or Carnegie. I couldn’t even fathom what something like Hardwick would have cost back then. In my opinion, Silvano De Rossi’s dedication to maintaining the integrity of the original design spoke volumes about his person. It would have been cheaper and easier to remodel with modern touches, but he kept the historical accuracy of the home intact. He didn’t feel a need to put his own mark on the place. Instead, he chose to honor its original magnificence. “I wonder what will happen to the house now that Silvano is gone,” I muse aloud. “Zeno already talked with Mom and Dad. He said that he was moving in and would retain their services. I suppose that means not much will change.”