Chapter 18 - What Mara Left on Dante’s Desk
Three months later, Dante woke to silence.
Not unusual.
The house was large.
Winter snow covered the grounds.
He walked downstairs.
Coffee already made.
That was unusual.
Mara drank tea.
Never coffee.
Then he saw the envelope on his desk.
DANTE.
His first thought was ridiculous.
She left.
He stared at it longer than necessary.
Finn entered.
“What?”
Dante held up the envelope.
Finn immediately understood.
“Oh.”
“What does ‘oh’ mean?”
“It means open it.”
“I know how envelopes work.”
“Apparently not.”
Dante opened it.
One sheet.
You once told me to stay long enough to find out who I was when I wasn’t leaving.
Annoyingly, you were right.
He paused.
Finn smiled.
“Continue.”
“Go away.”
“No.”
Dante kept reading.
So I’m leaving for three days.
He exhaled.
Finn laughed.
Dante glared.
“Not funny.”
“Extremely funny.”
She continued:
Adrian and I are testifying in Washington. I told you last week. You were on the phone with a lawyer and apparently absorbed nothing.
Dante closed his eyes.
Finn laughed harder.
“There’s more.”
I made coffee because your machine frightens me and I wanted to prove I could use it.
Do not interpret this as domestic progress.
Also, the foundation dinner is Saturday.
You need a tuxedo.
Your old one still has water stains from Prague.
And before you ask, yes, I’m coming.
—Mara
P.S. Stop looking disappointed. I moved half my clothes into the upstairs closet yesterday.
Dante reread that line.
Finn leaned over.
“Half?”
“Leave.”
“Congratulations.”
“Finn.”
“I’m leaving.”
He did not.
Dante folded the letter carefully.
Three days later Mara returned.
He was waiting in the entryway.
She stopped.
“You look dramatic.”
“You moved in.”
“Half moved.”
“That’s moved.”
“Don’t get excited.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were standing at the door.”
“I live here.”
“For forty minutes?”
He stared.
Finn had told her.
Of course.
“You two talk too much.”
Mara smiled.
She handed him a garment bag.
“What’s this?”
“Your tuxedo.”
“I own tuxedos.”
“This one doesn’t smell like sprinkler water.”
“Thoughtful.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
Saturday’s foundation dinner was nothing like the Halcyon gala.
Smaller.
No press line.
No political donors controlling tables.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Former patients.
Teachers.
Community organizers.
Some wealthy donors remained.
Many new ones joined.
Mara wore black.
Long sleeves.
High neckline.
Again, no necklace.
No earrings.
Dante noticed immediately.
“You did that intentionally.”
“What?”
“No jewelry.”
She looked down.
“Maybe.”
“Are you measuring exits?”
“Three.”
“There are four.”
She pointed toward the kitchen.
“Delivery door doesn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts.”
“You’ve learned nothing.”
They stood near the terrace.
Almost exactly as they had the night they met.
Except nobody was hunting them.
Nobody had stolen an archive.
No suspicious man stood beside a marble pillar.
Mara held sparkling water.
She actually drank it.
Dante watched.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m allowed.”
“Says who?”
“Me.”
“Not how that works.”
He smiled.
Onstage, the new foundation chair spoke about transparency.
New clinics.
Scholarships.
Community health.
Then a photograph appeared.
Lucia Cavalari.
Dante went still.
The chair announced that the original clinic reading room would be renamed the Lucia Cavalari Children’s Library.
Mara looked at Dante.
He had not known.
Finn stood across the room looking suspiciously pleased.
“You knew,” Dante said.
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“I’m actually very good.”
“Then you knew.”
She took his hand.
Dante allowed himself to watch the tribute.
Lucia laughing in an old photograph.
Lucia at a clinic opening.
Lucia reading beside children.
No mention of dynasties.
No mythology.
Just work she had done.
When the applause ended, Dante’s eyes were wet.
Mara said nothing.
Later they stepped outside.
Snow had begun lightly.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That answer normally annoys me.”
“It’s true.”
She studied him.
“Good.”
Dante reached into his pocket.
Mara immediately narrowed her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re reaching into your pocket at a charity dinner.”
“Yes.”
“That sentence has a terrible history.”
He laughed.
Then held out a small box.
Mara stared.
“No.”
“You haven’t seen what it is.”
“I know what boxes are.”
“Open it.”
“Dante.”
“Mara.”
She took it suspiciously.
Inside was not a ring.
It was a small silver pendant.
Simple.
Almost plain.
Engraved on the back:
STAY FOR THE INTERESTING PART.
Mara stared.
Dante suddenly looked less certain than she had ever seen him.
“It’s not—”
“I know.”
“No expectation.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to wear it.”
“I know.”
“It’s just—”
“Dante.”
“What?”
She kissed him.
That shut him up.
When she pulled back, he looked genuinely surprised.
Mara smiled.
“You talk too much when nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
She fastened the pendant around her neck.
For the first time since Dante had met her, something at Mara’s throat caught the light.
He stared.
“Don’t make this symbolic.”
“Too late.”
“I mean it.”
“Of course.”
She touched the pendant.
“It’s still not a ring.”
“I noticed.”
“Good.”
Dante held out his hand.
She took it.
Inside, the dinner continued.
Outside, snow softened the city.
And for the first time, Mara realized staying did not have to mean being trapped.
It could mean choosing the same place again tomorrow.
Still, Dante had one surprise left.
May you like
One that Finn, Adrian and nearly everyone at the foundation somehow knew about before Mara did.
And when she discovered it the following spring, even the woman who counted every exit would not see it coming.
