The sweat was pouring from Hazel's face as she knelt in front of the marble fireplace. It was way too hot for a fire, and she'd taken a huge risk lighting one in her bedroom fireplace. Who knew what state the chimney was in? But the smoke seemed to go where it was supposed to go and she kept the little pile of sticks small. A shoebox filled with letters sat at her knees. She only had the most recent letters here with her in Borgotaro, the other shoe boxes were stashed in her closet in Jax, but this would be a start. She would have a similar ceremony when she went home.

The first letter she threw on the flames burst into a fury of red and blue flames and the flakes of ash floated up the chimney. How long had she known she wasn't really writing to her father? A long time. This was her way of saying goodbye to the Dad created out of thin air. She didn't need him. She needed Indigo, her friends and her little sister. She needed Dean too - but he'd left the day of the incident. She'd have to find a way past Dean as she was finding a way past the breakup with her non-existent Dad.

The past few days had been some of the most difficult of Hazel’s life. Right now all thoughts of the house renovation were off. A kind of lethargy had come over her. She'd spent hours sitting with Indigo and a cup of tea, reconstructing her childhood and her memories. She found that she did remember a father, a kind of ghostly presence in the back of her mind which tried to creep forward but got pushed back by a wave of anxiety. They were not good memories, so perhaps she would just ignore them.

She was grieving too. Grieving for the father she'd never known, and, in fact, who had never existed. It was hard to let go of him, but Hazel realized it was time. He'd been a crutch for her all these years. Her focus on work, her ambition and drive, had been a way to excuse herself from engaging fully with the world. She was learning a lot about herself, and she wasn’t enjoying everything she discovered. Even the job she'd chosen was for him, more than for her. She hadn’t loved the business of marketing and public relations. She'd endured it. That job had given her the excuse to work so hard that she could avoid participating fully in a life of her own. She made all of these decisions with the justification that it’s what her father would have expected. Now when she took stock she realized she’d made a mistake. She had one friend, Liz, her mother and sister, who had no choice, and only one real boyfriend since she was sixteen.

After her burning ceremony she’d tiptoed downstairs carefully so as not to wake Indigo. She needed a cup of coffee. She was pouring herself a mug when there was a gentle knock on the back door and a soft voice called, “Permesso.” It was only eight a.m. Her mother was still in bed, but even Stefano, the early riser, hadn’t shown his face yet. He'd been despondent to hear that Hazel and Indigo were leaving, even though they had told him he could stay in the house until they made a decision together on what to do with it. He’d begged them to stay, but they'd booked their flights for a week from now, loading up Hazel’s credit card with debt she couldn’t afford. She needed to get on with her new life. Hazel would have left sooner but Atillio had asked them to stay in case the police needed any more help in the investigation against Roberto. Indigo had filed the Italian equivalent of a restraining order against him. She'd admitted to Hazel that it was time to let him go, along with her romantic notion that she could save him.

She called, “come in,” and walked back over to the sink to get a second mug for her guest. They had four more days in Borgotaro but she was already feeling pangs of distress at leaving the house and town she loved. The white porcelain sink brought tears to her eyes. Get over yourself, she thought, and wiped her leaking eyes.

The door opened and Sara entered. Hazel had met her briefly during the joyful days she’d been with Dean, but they had been so caught up in each other they hadn’t had time for anyone else.

“Hi,” she said gently, and gave Hazel a tentative smile.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry to bother you. I hope you don’t mind me coming by.”

“No problem. Have a seat. Would you like coffee?”

“Yes, please. That’d be great, thank you.” Sara pulled out a chair and sat down. She took a minute to stare around the cavernous kitchen and even leaned back in her seat to peek into the living room. “I’ve always loved this house.”

Hazel poured the coffee from the large carafe she'd made that morning and swallowed the catch in her throat. “Me too,” she said. “I’m going to miss it.”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you. But I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to tell you a few things about Dean.”

Hazel’s hand shook as she handed Sara her coffee. Dean was the one subject she'd yet to fully confront, and she hadn’t planned on doing it this morning.

“Okay.” She sat carefully and ran her hands through her hair. Deep breath. You can do this.

“I wanted to tell you he wasn’t kissing Isabella. He would have never stayed with Isabella even if he hadn’t met you. Isabella was… is, sleeping with my husband.”

Hazel didn’t know what to say. She fumbled out the words, “I’m sorry,” but then got stuck.

“It’s fine,” said Sara. “You know, I don’t think I ever loved him anyway? I loved the idea of him; the glamour and the money and the Hollywood life.” She laughed at herself and shook her head. “I was so young when I got to LA. I worked for him, did you know that?” Hazel shook her head. “Yeah, I was his assistant. A distant cousin got me the job to improve my English. I’d just graduated from University and the English language was my passion. I loved everything about America and was desperate to go. Then I got a job with a famous Hollywood manager. I thought my life had changed forever.”

“And had it?”

“Yes,” Sara took a sip of her steaming coffee and then smiled at Hazel. It was a smile of satisfaction, of contentment. “Adam may have not given me much, but he gave me my son. And my son has changed me. The moment I saw him I knew marrying Adam had been a huge mistake. He wasn’t interested in me. He was interested in arm candy, an exotic Italian woman. And he wasn’t interested in baby Andrew, not from the beginning. I saw that, and I knew I had to go home. So I did.”

“That was incredibly brave of you.” Sara's honesty and strength drew Hazel in. She could learn a lot from her. It occurred to her that if she wasn’t leaving Borgotaro she could see herself and Sara becoming good friends.

“I lied and said I was only coming for a week or two. To show my family the baby. When Adam realized that I wasn’t coming back, he just cut us off. Would you like to know what worried me most about leaving?”

“Yes. I would.”

“Dean.” Sara went silent and gazed at her and she blushed under her scrutiny. “Dean didn’t belong there. Adam knew Dean was naïve and trusting and he took advantage of that. Dean’s not stupid, you know that, but he had a rough past. You know he was a foster kid, right?”

Hazel nodded. “He told me some of it. I suspect there’s a lot more.”

“You know those panic attacks he was having? I think that was his heart trying to tell his brain something he'd known all along. He didn’t belong in Hollywood, but he couldn’t accept it. All Dean ever wanted to do was belong, and if he didn’t belong there, then where was home for him? You know where I think that is?” Hazel knew what she would say but shook her head, she didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t handle this right now. Not with everything else going on. “I think his home is with you. Wherever you are.”

Hazel felt the tears spring to her eyes and grabbed her napkin to pat at her eyes. How embarrassing. “But he’s gone now, he’s back in LA. His life is there, his movies, his fans, I can’t compete with that.”

Sara stood up and took her cup to the sink. “Maybe,” she said over the sound of the running water. She shut off the faucet and turned to Hazel. “Just promise me that if he ever wants to talk, you’ll give him the chance.”