Page 107 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
Chapter 33
The investigator pauses and I grip Lucas’s arm to keep from shaking with anxiety, excitement and dread. Lucas rolls over and envelops me with his free arm, kissing my temple.
“Her name is Elise Giovani. I’ve contacted her and she’s agreed to meet with you both.”
“When?” Lucas says. I’m mute, glad he’s speaking for me.
“Today.”
I gasp, heart hammering.
Barbara continues speaking as if she’s ordering lunch, “She lives in Manhattan in a co-op in Tribeca.”
“Wait a moment,” Lucas says, putting the phone down. Then he turns to me and says, “Are you ready for this?” His voice is a whisper.
I nod, not allowing myself to think about it, to go with the momentum of the plan and the dream that’s been spinning inside my gut forever. Feeling my nerves vibrate, I close my eyes and listen to Lucas finish making the arrangements with Barbara.
An hour later, Barbara meets us at the apartment building and explains that she will mediate our meeting until Elise feels comfortable with me. I’m trying to listen, but my mind is buzzing as if there’s a herd of bees inside my head all in a rage.
As we’re admitted to the building I’m feeling faint, but I force myself to breathe. Lucas murmurs something to me, but I don’t know what he’s saying because he’s quiet and the buzzing is so loud. He’s holding my hand and it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality right now.
Barbara knocks on the door of 16A and the door opens, revealing a Hispanic woman in a maid’s uniform. She ushers us inside the spacious apartment decorated in ornate red and gold. Not my style, but I can see it’s expensive. As I step all the way into the room, my eyes are torn between the woman, who must be Elise Giovani, and the magnificent view outside the window she stands in front of. I let go of Lucas’s hand and move forward. She nods at me.
She’s striking in a Sophia Loren way, still a bombshell though she has to be at least fifty.
“How old are you?” I blurt.
She smiles graciously and says, “Forty-nine.” Of course. She’s vain. I force a smile, though I don’t know why.
“Why don’t we sit down?” Barbara says, giving me a censorious look. But I don’t answer to her.
None of us sits. Not even Barbara Bench. Lucas stands next to me.
“Ms. Giovani, thank you for meeting with us. I’m Lucas Fierro.”
“Yes, I know who you are,” she smiles with an outstretched hand to him. He takes it and I think for a second he’s going to kiss it but he doesn’t. He only holds it for a moment.
Then she turns to me and studies me like she’s drinking in everything about me. I have a fleeting thought that I should have dressed up. She—my mother—is elegant in a draping white dress that shows off her voluptuous curves. I can see that I have her eyes and realize I’m studying her the same way she’s examining me.
“And you’re my daughter, Melissa Cooper,” she says, shaking her head as if in wonder.
“Only technically,” I say. I can’t let her make that claim, it would feel too much like a betrayal of my real mother, the one who raised me and loved me. The one who chose to keep me.
“Let me get you something. Coffee? Wine?” she says without flinching, without losing her calm demeanor. Hmmm. She must be prepared for my animosity.
That’s good, because that makes one of us. I feel anger gaining momentum, though it’s still tamped down low and hasn’t overtaken the crazy nerves. Yet.
Lucas shakes his head and I say, “I’d love a glass of water.”
She looks toward the door and I see her maid standing there. Elise gives the woman a nod. An uncomfortable pang rises on top of the jittering nerves and anger running amok inside me. Mymotherhas been living well all this time. So well that she has amaid.
“If you’d like, Elise, I can leave now and give you all some privacy,” Barbara says and Elise nods and thanks her, . The investigator lets herself out.
We’re here, standing in front of the woman who gave me away, and I’m clinging to Lucas as if he’s my parachute and I just jumped out of a plane. My stomach feels like it too, floating around inside to places where it doesn’t belong.
“My father? Do you still—?” I wasn’t sure how to say it, whether I should ask if she was still his mistress, but she saves me from trying.
“Your father, sadly, has passed away. Two years now.”
