Free Mia's Heart (The Paradise Diaries) by Courtney Cole Page A

chignon at the nape of her neck. 
    “Mia!”
she cries out and barrels into me, grasping me up into a surprisingly strong
bear hug.  She smells like cookies.  And maybe sunshine.
    I
look at her blankly, wish-wish-wishing that I could place her.  Because
she clearly knows me.  She looks at me sympathetically. 
    “I’m
sorry, sweet girl,” she tells me, taking a step backward.  “I forgot that
you don’t remember me.  My name is Marionette Papou. I run this household
for the Gilibertis.  You know me very well, little one.  I’ve known
you since you were in pigtails.  But you will remember.  I have faith
in that.” 
    She
is confident.  I like that. 
    She
turns and greets my mother and then her husband, Darius, introduces himself to
me before he gets our bags.  They both move surprisingly quickly for being
older.  And I am surprised again when Marionette tells me that Darius is
the foreman for the olive groves.  They have both worked here for decades,
apparently, and they have no intentions of slowing down anytime soon. 
    They
lead us into the massive house and I immediately feel welcomed, like I am
home.  The house is immaculately furnished, but it is cozy even as it is
magnificent and enormous.  It is the kind of place where families live and
thrive.  I feel instantly at ease. 
    Marionette
smiles.
    “I
have a treat for you,” she tells me with a grin.  “Your favorite.”
    I
have no idea what my favorite is, but I follow her anyway.
    I’m
trusting that way, I guess.
    As
Darius takes our bags upstairs to our rooms, Marionette leads us to the
kitchen. Wonderful smells surround us and I inhale deeply. 
    She
hands me a saucer and shoves me into a chair. 
    “Your
favorite,” she tells me again as I look at the little fancy plate. There is a
forest green G inscribed on the china rim.  A flaky croissant drizzled in
butter instantly makes my mouth water.  “I make them from scratch,” she
adds proudly.
    I
take a bite and instantly am in love with Marionette.  I tell her that and
she laughs. 
    “Oh,
you fell in love with me long ago, little one,” she grins, before she pats my
arm and glides away to wipe off a cabinet.  “I’m French.  Everyone
loves me.” 
    I
don’t know what that has to do with anything, but it makes me smile
anyway.  I consider that as I look around.  This kitchen reminds me
of a giant farm kitchen, but is filled with every modern convenience. 
It’s comfortable in here.  I could stay in here forever.
    My
mother, however, must feel differently. 
    “Mia,
I’m going to go unpack,” she tells me.  “If you need me, Marionette will
show you to my room.”
    I
nod and watch her walk away.  She doesn’t seem very happy to be here. But
then again, she doesn’t seem all that happy to be anywhere.  I wonder
why.  And then I wonder if I ever knew why. 
    Marionette
watches me. 
    “Your
mother worries about you,” she says quietly.  “I know you don’t believe
that, but it is true.”
    I
am startled.  “I don’t believe that?” I ask curiously. “Do my mom and I
have issues?”
    It’s
Marionette’s turn to look startled, like a cat who swallowed a canary. 
    “Uh. 
Not necessarily,” she says slowly.  “Just typical teenager and mother
things.  Nothing big.”
    But
she turns and focuses very hard on cleaning the already spotless stone
counters.  I narrow my eyes suspiciously, but I don’t say anything.
Clearly, she doesn’t want to say anything else. 
    “Is
it alright if I go for a walk outside?” I ask her politely.  She turns and
smiles.
    “Little
girl, you don’t have to ask permission. This is your home, for as long as you
need it to be.  Feel free to walk anywhere you would like to walk.”
    I
smile and impulsively turn and hug her.  She’s the warmest person that
I’ve met so far.  She seems surprised, but she hugs me back tightly.
 Her tiny arms are surprisingly strong.  
    “It’s
good to have you here,” she tells