Chapter 105: Redeeming quality
The air in Sophia Rossi’s morning room was thick with the scent of forced hyacinths and regret. Claire sprawled on a silk-upholstered chaise, a neglected champagne flute dangling from her fingers.“So I just said it. ‘Carmela, the peonies are non-negotiable.They were my grandmother’s favorite.’ You should have seen her face. I think she actually short-circuited.”
Sophia, perfectly postured in a wingback chair, allowed a slim smile.“Using Bethany’s advice, I see. ‘State it, don’t debate it.’ It has a certain ruthless efficiency.”
“It works.” Claire took a sip, her triumph fading into a more pensive expression.“Makes me think about her wedding. Or lack thereof. Just a courthouse and a phone call.” She tilted her head, studying her mother’s carefully composed face.“What was that like for you? When D called and said, ‘Hey, Ma, I’m married.’”
The question landed in the quiet room like a stone in a still pond. Sophia’s gaze drifted to the geometric garden outside, where a single rogue rose cane lashed against the pristine glass.She took a long, slow breath.
“It hurt,” she said, the admission seeming to surprise even her. Her voice was softer, stripped of its usual performative grace.“I always imagined I would be there.To see him. To… I don’t know, fix his tie, make sure he had the right words.” She turned her head back to Claire, her eyes shiny.“It felt like a theft.Of a moment. Of a son.”
Claire sat up, setting her glass down with a soft click. “He was so in love, Mom. Blindingly.”
“I know.” Sophia nodded, looking down at her own hands, at the heavy, old-world rings. “And I mistook that love for a weakness in him, and a calculation in her. I was so busy trying to protect my son from some imaginary social climber, I didn’t bother to see the person standing right in front of me. The person he’d chosen.” She looked up, a raw vulnerability there that Claire rarely witnessed. “I hope she doesn’t hate me so profoundly that she bans me from seeing them do it properly this time.”
The shock was a physical jolt.Claire stared. “This time?”
A flicker of confusion crossed Sophia’s face.“The re-engagement.The new ring. You saw it at breakfast.”
“I saw a ring,” Claire said, her voice climbing.“I didn’t see a plan. Damien didn’t say a word. Neither did she.” A hot wave of guilt, old and familiar, washed over her.“God, I was a terrible sister-in-law. I was seventeen and scared of my own shadow and I just… watched you rip her apart at every Sunday dinner. I never stood up for her. Not once.”
“You were a child,” Sophia said, but the dismissal lacked its usual force.“She wasn’t much older! And she was alone here.” Claire stood up, pacing the length of the Persian rug. “But maybe… maybe this is the shot.Redemption for both of us.You can actually be there for the wedding this time. Be the mother of the groom.Not the… the opposition.”
Sophia gave a weak, watery laugh. “She may not want that. I’m not sure there is a way back from some of the things I said, Claire.Grace has limits.”
“Beth’s smarter than that. She knows holding a grudge against the Rossi family is a full-time job with no benefits.” Claire stopped pacing, a new determination squaring her shoulders.“But we have to try. We can’t just let him navigate this alone again, with us as the obstacles.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting we stop being the problem and start being the family.” Claire pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans.“He needs to know we’re on his side. Their side.Even if it’s from a distance. Even if we have to earn our way in.”
Sophia said nothing, but she didn’t protest. She simply watched, her regal composure finally, fully cracked, revealing the anxious mother beneath.
Claire tapped Damien’s name in her contacts and put the phone to her ear.It rang once, twice. In the quiet of the room, she could hear the distant crash of the ocean against the cliffs far below, a constant, rhythmic threat.
He answered on the third ring, his voice a warm, familiar rumble layered with the wide-open sounds of the ranch—wind, a horse’s whinny, distant laughter. “Hey, trouble. You survive the peony coup?”
“Barely,” Claire said, forcing lightness into her tone.She met her mother’s worried eyes. “Listen, I’m here with Mom.We’re talking.About weddings. Past and… future.”
A beat of silence on the line. The ranch sounds faded, as if he’d walked away from the others.“Okay,” he said, the single word cautious, guarded.
“We didn’t know,” Claire said, rushing ahead now.“About the real plans.We just saw a ring. We’re not… we’re not in the loop, D. And we get why. Believe me, we get it.” She took a breath. “But if you’re doing this again, for real, we want to be there.Not in the way.There. However she’ll allow.”
Another pause.She heard him exhale, long and slow. “Claire…”
“I know,” she interrupted, her voice thickening. “I was a kid and I was silent and I’m sorry. We’re both… we’re looking at the last ten years and it’s just a fucking wasteland of missed chances and stupid, prideful mistakes. We don’t want to add to it anymore.”
From the other end of the line, she could almost feel the weight of his consideration, the careful calculus of a man who trusted few people. Finally, he spoke, his voice lower, more intimate.“She’s taking the reins here. Of everything.It’s happening now.”
The meaning was clear. Beth wasn’t just coming back to him; she was stepping fully into her own power, into the legacy that had always intimidated the Rossis with its quiet, unfathomable reach.
“Then she’ll need allies,” Claire said, her conviction solidifying.“Not sycophants.Allies. People who know the value of a second chance.”
A soft, rough sound came down the line—maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh of relief. “You telling me you’re volunteering?”
“I’m telling you we’re reporting for duty,” Claire said, looking at her mother. Sophia nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement, her eyes clear. “Just… tell us where to stand, Damien.Or where to wait. We’ll figure it out.”
The wind whistled against the window, carrying the salt-tang of the sea. In the silence before he answered, Claire felt the vast, unmapped territory of their future stretching out, treacherous and full of promise, waiting for them to take the first, careful step.