leave the estate. She walked its manicured grounds, reacquainting herself with its beauty even as she yearned for the rocky hills and white sand beaches of Kallos. She missed Angelos and Sofia with an intensity that was like a physical pain; it kept her from eating and sleeping, leaving her hollow-eyed and gaunt.
Alma scolded her and tried to ply her with food and Talia attempted a few meals to appease the concerned housekeeper, but she couldn’t stave off the sorrow that swamped her soul.
Finally, at the end of August, Giovanni confronted her. It had been two long weeks since she’d left Kallos, and she’d done no more than drag herself through each day.
‘Cara, I can tell you are hurting,’ Giovanni said without preamble. ‘And I recognise the hurt it is. You are heartbroken.’
Talia managed a wobbly smile at her grandfather’s astuteness. ‘Maybe. I’ve never known what that feels like before.’
‘I did not send you away to break your heart,’ Giovanni said sternly. ‘I sent you away to discover it again. This will not do, Talia. You must live—and love—once more.’
Talia nodded wearily. ‘I want to, Nonno, but...’
‘But nothing. I have arranged for a local gallery to showcase your work in two weeks’ time.’
Talia’s mouth dropped open. ‘What...’
‘I know you have resisted such public appearances before, but you know very well that many galleries have clamoured for your work. Every year they ask. It is time for you to appease them, Talia. It is time for you to show yourself to the world.’
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