Page 23 of Falling for the Bosshole

“M-Mr. Vano, I-I don’t know what to s-say,” Ana stuttered.

Manfred Vano replied in a brittle voice, “you can start by telling me your mother’s name.”

“Nathalie. That’s all I know. The girl in the report was identified as Nathaliah. I thought there might be some connection,” Ana replied.

“The girl’s real name was Naa’ila. Gypsy names are hard to say. Nathaliah is easier. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case here.” Manfred explained.

“Tell me about her,” Ana begged.

“Naa’ila means winner,” Manfred began, “and that she truly was, until that horrible episode in her life. When she was born, it was like a ray of sunshine for a poor family. Naa’ila was like a blessing to them. They pampered her in a way that was not usual for other Gypsy families. Naa’ila went to school while the rest of her kind worked the fields. She could read and write. She was spirited and carefree. No one could deny her anything because of her beauty. Alas, it was that same beauty that attracted the attention of a rival clan. When her father needed money to buy the field next to theirs, he approached the chief of the clan. His intentions were pure. He just wanted to give his daughter a secure future. He thought he had nothing to lose. If the rich clan asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage, then his debt would be erased. Naa’ila would have the bright future he always wanted for her. Unfortunately, his daughter was too educated to be forced into a loveless marriage. When her father realized he couldn’t convince her daughter to marry, he made plans to leave and bring his family somewhere safe. But the clan leader heard about it, and well, you know the rest of the story.” Manfred ended.

“My mom seems so different from the girl in your story,” Ana contradicted. “I don’t remember ever seeing her happy. There was always this dark cloud surrounding her. I couldn’t see past it. She was cold and distant, unemotional,” Ana added.

“Gypsy women are taught from an early age to hold on to their virginity until marriage,” Manfred said, “for someone like Naa’ila who was brutalized, she must have felt like whatever was taken away from her was something she would never recover. Emotions can be painful. Sometimes the best way to deal with it is to feel nothing at all.”

A thought struck Ana. “If Naa’ila is my mom and you’re her dad’s cousin, then that makes you…”

“…Your grandfather,” Manfred cut in. “If you can accept that in your heart, then I would gladly consider you my granddaughter.”

Ana didn’t know what to say. This was all so unexpected. Manfred made a motion to rise. Lash dashed to his side to help the old man out of the chair.

“Mr. Mancini,” Manfred addressed him, “I think I will accept your offer to stay in your home. I’m afraid hotels are a bit too fancy for me.”

“I will be honored, Sir. Please call me Lash. A car is waiting for you outside. My housekeeper Sophia will take good care of you,” Lash promised.

Ana saw Manfred amble to the door. It was like a dream. Everything she learned from him still felt raw and very real. She no longer doubted.

“Grandfather.” She called out to him.

The older man turned slowly to face her. Ana jumped from her seat and ran to him, and the old man opened his arms to embrace her. Ana broke down and cried. Being held in Manfred’s arms felt cathartic. It was like being held by her mother. It was something she longed for, something Ana felt deprived of since she was a little girl.

Manfred held her close until her crying ceased. Then he held her face and kissed her on the forehead.

“Come see me in Zafarraya,” he asked her. “You have aunts and uncles and cousins there who would love to get to know you.”

Ana promised she would. Lash assisted the old man and walked down to the lobby with him. Ana was left behind in the room to ponder everything she had learned about her mom. It was sad and painful, and yet strangely, it was also freeing.