Sara Craven Tribute Collection

Sonia looked at her consideringly, then shrugged. ‘Maybe you have a point.’ She looked at Cory’s hand. ‘What a beautiful ring. Where did you get it?’

‘It was a present,’ Cory said quietly. ‘From Rome.’

‘A love token,’ Sonia said brightly. ‘How very sweet.’ She became brisk again. ‘Call me a cab, will you, honey? I’m going over to Arnold’s now, before these tiny rooms give me claustrophobia.’

‘Give me five minutes to get dressed, and I’ll come with you,’ Cory offered.

Sonia shuddered. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk about getting dressed in five minutes,’ she said peevishly. ‘I suggest you start paying a little more attention to your appearance—especially if you want to hang on to a piece of work like Mr d’Angelo. I never let your father see me in the mornings until I’d combed my hair and put on my mascara.’

‘I doubt if I’ll have time for such niceties,’ Cory said lightly. ‘Not on a vineyard in Tuscany.’

‘Well, you’re not there yet,’ Sonia said sharply. ‘But there’s no need for you to come to Arnold’s right away. It’s going to be quite a reunion after all this time, and we’ll have plenty to talk over. So, why don’t you take it easy?’

‘One of the preferred topics of conversation being myself, no doubt?’ Cory’s tone was cutting.

Sonia sighed. ‘Honey,’ she said, ‘I may not have made a big success of the role, but I’m still your mother, and, believe it or not, I’m concerned for you. And so is your grandfather—sure you’ll be a topic. A major one. So why don’t you let us have our discussion, and meet us for lunch at twelve-thirty? We should be all done by then.’ She glanced at her watch, and winced. ‘My God, this time difference is a killer.’

When she eventually left, in a haze of perfume, Cory sank down on the sofa, curling her legs under her in an unconsciously defensive posture.

Sonia’s arrival was a totally unforeseen complication, she thought unhappily. And one she could well have done without.

She’d always known that it wouldn’t be easy convincing Gramps that she’d finally met the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with—especially when she’d known Rome such a short time. Although he of all people should understand, she thought with a sigh. Only it didn’t always work out like that.

Still, she’d been sure that she could talk him round. But if he was aligned with her mother…

She shook her head. That was a pretty formidable combination.

Sonia had made it clear she had misgivings about Rome—echoing all Cory’s own early doubts, if she was honest.

Why, indeed, should a man like that choose a girl like her?

‘Because he loves me,’ she said aloud, lifting her head in affirmation. ‘Because we love each other.’

But some of the radiance of last night had faded, and, do what she would, she could not summon it back.

She looked down at the amethyst, glowing on her hand.

My talisman, she told herself. And raised it to her lips.

Over in Chelsea, Sonia wasted no time.

‘When I got to Cory’s apartment today there was a man there,’ she said, after the usual greetings and enquiries had been exchanged, and her luggage taken upstairs to the guest suite.

Arnold looked down his nose. ‘Suddenly turned prude, my dear? This is the twenty-first century.’

Sonia snorted. ‘No, of course I haven’t. But how much do you know about this guy?’

‘Very little,’ Arnold admitted, frowning. ‘She’s being rather secretive about him.’

‘I don’t blame her,’ Sonia returned. ‘If he belonged to me, I’d find a deserted house in a deep forest and chain him to the bed.’ She paused. ‘He calls himself Rome d’Angelo.’

Arnold thought, then shook his head. ‘I haven’t heard of him.’

‘Then I feel you should make his acquaintance without delay.’ Sonia pursed her lips. ‘She’s wearing a ring.’

‘An engagement ring?’ He was clearly startled.

‘Wrong hand, but what do I know?’ Sonia frowned. ‘It’s a lovely thing—looks antique and expensive—a big amethyst with pearls around it.’ She sighed. ‘Pearls for tears, they say, but maybe Cory’s not superstitious.’

‘An amethyst?’ Arnold’s tone sharpened. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Those are the mauve stones, aren’t they? Why do you ask?’

There was an odd silence, then he said, ‘It just seems a strange choice for an engagement ring—if that’s what it is. Diamonds are more conventional.’

Sonia leaned back in her chair. ‘I don’t think,’ she said slowly, ‘that convention means a great deal to the sexy Mr d’Angelo. I feel we should start making a few discreet enquiries about him.’

Arnold was staring into the distance, eyes narrowed and mouth set grimly.

Lunch in Chelsea was a strained affair. Arnold was silent and preoccupied, and Sonia laughed and talked a little too much.

It was like a dream she’d once had, Cory thought, pushing poached salmon round her plate. She’d found herself on stage with the curtain about to go up—and she was wearing the wrong costume and knew none of her lines.

When coffee was served, Sonia rose from the table, announcing she was off to get a massage and beauty treatment—‘Best way to cope with jet lag, honey’—and Cory found herself alone with her grandfather.

There was a silence between them that Cory, for the first time in her life, felt unable to break. She knew that she had to sit and wait for him to speak.

Eventually, he said, ‘This man you’re seeing—I asked yesterday if you were serious about him. You didn’t see fit to mention you were living with him. Why?’

Cory lifted her chin. ‘Because we’re not actually living together.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You just allow him to use you when the mood takes him. Is that it?’

She stared at him, shocked. ‘Gramps—don’t. You make it sound so sordid.’

‘Perhaps I find it so, Cory. Knowing that my only granddaughter is sharing her body with a man she’s apparently known for days, hours and minutes, rather than weeks, months, years.’

She said steadily, ‘It’s not really such a new thing. We fell in love, just as you did when you first saw Gran. If it had happened now, instead of years ago, you’d be doing the same thing.’

‘Don’t dare to compare the situations.’ His voice was harsh. ‘In my day you offered a woman security and respect along with passion.’

He paused. ‘What do you really know about this man? Your mother says she now remembers meeting a Steve d’Angelo in Florida some years ago. He was a gambler, a man who lived by his wits and made a living by calculating the weaknesses of others. Are they related?’

‘His stepfather.’

‘And his real father?’

Cory bit her lip. ‘He never knew him.’