Chapter 3 - Celeste and Valeria
Valeria entered our lives through the Drake Family Arts Foundation.
Celeste loved the organization more than I did.
We funded:
Music programs.
Museum restoration.
Scholarships.
Hospital arts programs.
My name opened doors.
Celeste did the actual work.
Valeria Sloane joined as an outside gala consultant four years before Celeste died.
Elegant.
Efficient.
Excellent with wealthy people.
She remembered:
Names.
Spouses.
Seating feuds.
Dietary restrictions.
Who could be placed beside whom without turning dinner into war.
Celeste liked her.
That was true.
During treatment, Celeste became exhausted by public events.
She hated canceling.
At one donor dinner, she told Valeria:
“Take my seat tonight. If Salvatore skips because I’m not there, drag him in yourself.”
Valeria did.
I remembered.
Celeste laughed afterward.
“You survived sitting beside him.”
Valeria answered:
“Barely.”
Nothing sinister.
Then treatment intensified.
Celeste gave Valeria temporary authority to coordinate several foundation events because she could not manage logistics from the hospital.
Again:
Normal.
Not marital authority.
Not family control.
Not ownership of anything.
After Celeste died, I disappeared from foundation functions for four months.
Valeria kept events running.
I appreciated it.
Then she began appearing beside me more often.
At first because she knew the programs.
Then because organizers expected her.
Then because I stopped questioning why her name was always on the chair next to mine.
Had we dated?
Not formally.
We had dinner privately several times.
She had kissed me once.
I did not stop her.
I also did not pursue a relationship.
Marnie disliked the closeness.
I told myself:
Grief.
A child protecting her mother’s memory.
May you like
I did not ask whether Valeria was encouraging the conflict.
That failure belonged to me.
