Italy….3 months later

Claire smiled as she placed the copy of The New Yorker on the black wrought iron table. "It's wonderful!"

Sophie grinned appreciatively. "It's getting a good response."

Sophie and Claire were sitting outside the Bertolini villa since the weather was still warm.

"I never doubted it would," Claire told her.

"Nor did I," Charlie said from behind them. He walked over and sat next to Sophie.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "We're just glad that Bobby's ideas worked."

"So what have you two been up to?" Charlie asked a moment later.

"We went to the market and a couple boutiques," Claire answered before adding "We saw some beautiful white dresses."

"Gran, I just asked Sophie to marry me a few weeks ago," Charlie reminded her, taking Sophie's left hand in his. She wore a quarter carat princess cut diamond.

Claire just smiled. "It's never too early to start looking."

"They were beautiful," Sophie conceded. "But I'd like to wait until we pick a date and venue before buying a dress."

"All right," Claire said, drinking some iced tea. "I won't press you."

"Yet," Charlie added sarcastically.

"We were tentatively thinking next summer or fall," Sophie told her.

Claire nodded approvingly. "Have you given any thought to where you'll like to be married?"

Charlie rolled his eyes at her. "Gran, I thought you weren't going to press."

"Well, Sophie mentioned the possibility of the date being next year," Claire said innocently.

Charlie shook his head while Sophie laughed. "She's right, Charlie I did."

Claire started to stand. Charlie hopped up and pulled out her chair. She smiled and patted his arm in gratitude before asking "So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Lorenzo wanted to see me this afternoon," Charlie answered.

"I thought I might do some writing," Sophie replied a second later. She had just started writing an original short story that she was thinking of turning into a novel.

Claire frowned. "But it's so beautiful out."

"I'll go out for a walk or something later," Sophie promised.

"And I'll go with her," Charlie added. "That is if it's all right with you, Soph."

Sophie smiled. "Of course it's all right."

Seemingly satisfied by their answer, Claire walked into the villa. Sophie rose from her chair and Charlie grabbed her chair for her.

"Thanks," Sophie murmured as she strolled into the villa and up the stairs.

She found her brown messenger bag on her white desk chair and opened it to take out her notes for the story. Upon grabbing the notes an envelope slipped out onto the wooden floor. Sophie placed the notes on the desk and bent to pick up the envelope.

"What's that?" Charlie asked. He was standing in the doorway having followed Sophie upstairs.

Sophie looked up at him. "It's the last letter my mom wrote; the one that arrived at our home in London that day Bobby called about the story on Claire."

He nodded, letting her know that he remembered that day and night.

"I must have put it in my bag and forgotten about it."

He came closer to her. "I know you wish things could have been different with your mum."

"It's okay. Everything's worked out for the best hasn't it?"

"I think it's worked out well," Charlie said, giving her a quick kiss. "Anyways, I'll leave you to your story. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

She grinned at him. "Okay. You still owe me a walk later."

"I won't forget