Colorado Game - 21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER *21*

Suddenly, Sofia inclined her head forward a bit, and gave in.

"He's got spirit, Ross. I like him." She shot a quick glance sideways to her son, who visibly relaxed. Then she turned back to me and smiled apologetically. "I apologize for my rudeness; it was a test." I was still a bit wary but offered her a tight smile. I didn't apologize myself; the comment itself stood because I felt that way. I thought she was a bitch. Then she focused her gaze on my mom and approached her. "Mrs. Toriello, it's a pleasure to meet you."

My mom seemed to gauge the towering woman in front of her, and squinted a bit. Then she apparently thought her to be okay and smiled warmly, taking the offered hand.

"Yeah, ditto. I apologize for my son; he takes after me."

**********

For some reason, my mom and Sofia really hit it off. I myself was a bit more cautious, and answered her questions thoughtfully, short and as to the point as I possibly could. It earned me a few angry stares from ma but all-in-all, dinner went well. Sofia Forester sure was an excellent host; very intelligent, well versed in many topics and entertaining. I couldn't detect a moment of silence, what sometimes happens during a meeting of this kind, but if she wasn't talking, ma was.

Sofia was well informed about me. She knew what I did for a living and she surprised me by giving me a compliment for the latest work; apparently Ross had given her a CD with the music from the intro.

"For someone your age, I hadn't expected it," she admitted. "I was half fearing a rap-house combination. But what you made is a bit ethereal at times, and more orchestral. Who influenced you?"

"I'd like to think no one," I answered, "that I have my own style. But I like to listen to movie scores like those made by Shore, Zimmer and Silvestri. So maybe some of their influences are in there."

"I see. Their names are unknown to me, but I'll look into it. So how did you get into this business?"

"By accident. I've always been in bands and all that, and during some gig this woman came up to us, asking who wrote the music. She was a producer for an independent game and needed a score. The game was then sold to a bigger company and they hired me for other games. I also did a few documentaries for local TV stations."

"And your education... you went to Julliard, correct. Dropped out after the second year?"
I raised an eyebrow at her.

"How do you know..."

"I know a lot of things. Why did you drop out?"

"Because they steered me in a direction I didn't want to go. I didn't want to become a concert pianist. And all the recitals we had to do; I hated them."

"So you dropped out, no degree, nothing. You've been very lucky."

"Yeah, well... even the best upbringing and the best schools can produce a failure, every now and then."
Sofia raised her glass and smiled.

"Touché."

**********

After dinner, we moved back to the salon where coffee was served by an elderly woman, the housekeeper I guessed, and after, Ross asked my mom if she would like a tour of the house. When I also got up, Sofia asked me to stay behind.

"It'll give me a chance to get to know you a little better."

I sat down again, watching them leave and then waited for Sofia to open up on me with all sorts of personal questions. It didn't take her very long to do so and I spent the next half hour answering all sorts of questions about my life, my ambitions and dreams. Then she gradually steered the conversation to Ross and me.

"So tell me," she asked, "do you love my son?"

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" I asked, blushing.

"I find that a waste of time." When she raised her eyebrow, I thought for a moment.

"Honestly? I don't know... I feel something for him, yes, but if it's love, I don't know."

"You don't?" The answer seemed to surprise her and I shook my head. "Why?"

"I've never been in a relationship like this before. I want to be sure before I tell someone such a big thing. It's not something you blab out after the first date."
She smiled.

"That's something, at least. You're very young. May I ask how many relationships you have had?"

"Like this? As said; none."

"Has Ross told you about his previous relationship?"

"A little. His name was Kyle, right?"

"I prefer to call him a conniving cheat but yes, his name was Kyle." I couldn't help but grin at her feisty reply. "Kyle was only in that relationship for one thing; money, which brings me to another question..." I risked a glance at her and saw that she was closely watching my reaction.

"Am I after Ross's money?" I asked.

"It's a definite possibility. Are you?" she asked directly.
I shook my head.

"There's no answering that in such a way that you'd feel at ease about it." I gave her a sour grin. "There's only two ways to prove it; trusting that I'm not, which I assure you, or make me sign a document that I'm not after his money."
She regarded me for a long time.

"Would you sign a document?" she asked. "Right now, no questions asked?"
I sighed, throwing my hands in the air.

"Sure, let's see it."
A corner of her mouth slightly lifted and she nodded appreciatively.

"That won't be necessary, but thank you. You must think I'm a very distrusting woman."
I frowned.

"Not really. You want to protect your son, and I guess you've had some dealings with people that had financial gain in mind when it comes to your family."
She nodded again.

"Yes. Wealth makes you a vulnerable target to those who feel they should be sharing in it. My husband has always been a generous man, very trusting in nature. Ross has the same character, although he realized after Kyle that not everybody wants to be with him for just him," she answered. "And since I usually am the one asking these questions, I guess that makes me the bitch in the family," she continued dryly.
I snickered at that and asked her how her husband was doing.

"He's doing very well, thank you for asking. Charles is once again up to his old tricks." I was a bit curious about him; why wasn't he living here, with his family but instead in Europe?

"May I ask why he lives there? I mean... Ross didn't tell me you were divorced..."
She smiled and shook her head.

"No, we only live separate. About twenty years ago, Charles decided that he wanted to return to England, where he was born, so he sold the company. I did not want to go there, not permanently, and neither did Marcia, Andrew and Ross. They had their friends here and Steven was too young. So we decided on a trial separation, because we did not want to get divorced. Charles had a strong dislike for the US in those days. I fly over there once a month, stay about a week and then come back. Charles hasn't been back here for years. It's an arrangement that suits our needs."
She was surprisingly open about it.

We talked some more for about half an hour until Ross returned with ma, who seemed excited about the tour he'd given her. After their return, we moved to another room, a smaller and much cozier one, with a fire burning in the fireplace and comfortable fauteuils arranged around it.
The walls were made up of bare, grey rough stone, the ceiling lined with heavy oak beams and the whole room was scarcely lit with soft lighting. Several rugs hung on the wall, occasionally separated by oil paintings and a small bar was located in one of its corners. It looked a bit like a mountain cabin, which Ross confirmed as being deliberate.

"We have a cabin in Big Bear, which is almost the same. I'll take you there, some day."

Sofia made a face as she looked around. It was a much more masculine room than the elegant salon we'd just left and it obviously wasn't a favorite of hers. I didn't think she came in this room that often. But she sat down, motioning ma over to take the comfortable chair next to hers. I took the one that stood closest to the fireplace, reconsidering that a minute later when the heat proved to be a bit too much. Then Ross asked from behind the bar what we wanted to drink. His mother opted for a dry martini; ma requested a beer, which caused an amused reaction from Sofia.

"Sorry, I'm not into the fancy stuff," Ma said. "A nice, cold beer for me, please."

"Would you believe that I have never, in my life, had beer?" Sofia smiled, frowning. "Ross? Forget that martini; I'll also have a beer."
He stared at her and then shrugged, mumbling something. In the end we all ended up with the same drink and the conversation moved to our family.

"Not much to tell, really," Ma said. "My husband did a runner when Mark was five. I was an only child, my folks died when Mark was three, so it's basically only him and me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sofia said, "have you ever tried to find your husband?"

"Sure. I tracked him down to New Orleans. He signed onto a ship there and I lost the trail. He sent a few postcards from around the world, for about two years. Then they stopped. As far as we're concerned, good riddance, eh kid?"
I nodded, raising my glass.

From there, the conversation skipped to my childhood, the diner, where I basically grew up, until a clock on the wall announced that it was 10pm. Ma looked at her watch and then to me, and I emptied my glass.

"Sofia," she said, turning to Ross's mother, "it's been a great evening and I don't want to be rude but we really have to go. My day starts early tomorrow."

"Oh my dear, I completely forgot to ask, but you're welcome to stay; both of you," Sofia answered, putting a hand on ma's arm. "I can have a room prepared for you... it's no bother. " But ma shook her head, firmly.

"No, I can't. I wish I could but there's a pile of laundry still waiting for me." She looked at me. "Mark, you can stay, if you want to."
I started to shake my head but Ross caught my eye, mouthing ‘stay'. Then Sofia also chimed in.

"Yes, of course he can," she said. "And the laundry can wait a day, can’t it? I don't want to hear another word about it. John can bring you to the city tomorrow morning." Mom turned her head to her and then back to me, eventually accepting the invitation. "Wonderful. I'll tell Maria to prepare a room for you. In the meantime, Ross can get us a few more drinks."

Sofia rose from her fauteuil and walked to the bar, where a house-phone stood. She spoke a few words and then returned, while Ross got up and did as asked. When he returned, he set down the beers and when he gave me mine, he motioned to the door with his eyes. I looked at mom and Sofia, who were already engaged in a conversation about mom's work and got up, then followed Ross through the hall and then to the salon. From there he led me onto a large terrace outside. He closed the doors behind us as I walked to the edge. It was pretty dark but lights were scattered all over the grounds. I could see two paths running back into the trees, past the pool and, if my eyes weren't fooling me, a tennis court. Then, when he joined me, he snuck an arm around me from behind.

"Finally alone."