Falling for Italy

by De Ross, Melinda

  “Grazzie, signora Angeli,” Sonia replied as she shook the woman’s hand, hoping she didn’t sound too foolish. “Thank you for having me. Your home is lovely.”

  “Ah, I like it, though my son always tells me it is too large and formal for me,” Giovanna said, smiling at Giovanni.

  “Mamma, bella come sempre,” he said, wrapping his arms around her affectionately. Sonia saw Giovanna’s face lighting, her entire being radiating love and pride for her son as she embraced him tightly.

  “I have missed you, diletto. He remembers to call so rarely,” she told Sonia, turning to her, an arm still around her son’s waist. “But please come in. I have been expecting you very anxiously,” she confessed with a charming smile.

  So saying, she put her other arm around Sonia’s shoulders and urged them inside.

  Contrary to Sonia’s expectations, the Angelis’ residence was quite homey. The typical décor—similar to the one displayed by the Sontuoso hotel—kept the perfect balance between modern amenities and the refined luxury of old aristocracy.

  The furniture was not only decorative, but also practical. The sofas in the parlor looked comfortable and the chairs had a cozy aspect, rather than the stiff air reserved for etiquette and formal guests.

  Whoever had decorated the interior—Giovanna was the first suspect in Sonia’s mind—had boldly used strong colors, as well as pastels. Pale shades of cream and blue contrasted quite pleasantly with deep red and bright orange.

  Giovanna led them to the dining room. An entire rust-colored brick wall framed a marble-carved fireplace. Flames were burning lively in the hearth, dancing in the milky light coming from the window on the opposite wall.

  The room was beautiful by any standards, but the most striking elements were the huge natural-sized paintings of teenaged Giovanni and Linda, facing each other across the long festive guest table—one on each wall. They were breathtaking, made by an obviously brilliant artist.

  Sonia stared unblinkingly at the young image of her lover, marveling over his remarkable good looks. Even as a teenager, he’d been handsome and attractive—a prelude of the extraordinary man he was now.

  She could say the same about Linda when she turned around to study the other painting. Giovanni’s sister had been an extremely beautiful girl and had turned into a superb woman—tall, blonde and blue-eyed.

  The difference in their looks had seemed odd to Sonia, but Giovanni had explained that it was a consequence of their genetic baggage. He and Linda contrasted like dark and light, vanilla and chocolate, an angel and…a different kind of angel.

  “Vincente—my ex-husband and my children’s father—painted them,” Giovanna told her, noticing her mote admiration. “A nice variation to the nude nubile girls he preferred.”

  “Let’s eat, Mamma, we’re starving. Isn’t Fabrizzio joining us?” Giovanni asked, encircling Sonia’s waist with his arm.

  “As a matter of fact,” Giovanna replied smiling, “this is the first day in months he’s taken time off to come home early and meet your fiancée. I think he’s about to arrive.”

  Just as she said that, the door opened and a blindingly sexy version of a young Antonio Banderas appeared in the doorway. He lifted his arms in greeting when he saw them, speaking in accented English. “Ah, our guests have arrived, regina mia! Giovanni, mio figlio, you finally come visit us again! And this must be your lady, la principessa who stole your heart. Dio mio, aren’t you splendid, my dear Sonia! Let me look at you.”

  Sonia could only blink when the older man took her hand into his warm ones and spun her in a circle. She’d been expecting a middle-aged man in a smart business suit, with graying hair at the temples and a stern attitude.

  Instead, she was face to face with a slick and polished Latino lover, with shoulder-length black hair and tanned skin. He was dressed in a white shirt open at the neck, worn jeans and expensive-looking boots. His teeth flashed white against his dark, unshaven face and Sonia could see in the glinting brown eyes the charm that must have swept Giovanna off her feet.

  She smiled up to him and said, “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Angeli.”

  “Oh, listen to her! Mister Angeli,” he mocked her good-humoredly, to the others’ amusement. “It’s Fabrizzio, bambina. We are family now. And isn’t that a kick in the ass, as you English people say?” he went on, flashing her a dazzling smile. “Who would’ve thought our Giovanni was ever to get married? But now I see why he has fallen for you. And the fact that you can handle guns will surely help keep him on his toes,” he added, winking, putting one arm around Giovanni’s shoulders. “Amore, have you offered the children anything to drink yet?” he asked his wife, who watched all of them lovingly, a Madonna smile on her exquisite face.

  “Not yet. They have just arrived. They said they are hungry, so I’m going to ring Donato to serve lunch. Come on, have a seat,” she invited them and they all sat at the long table—Fabrizzio at the head of the table, Giovanna to his right, Sonia and Giovanni facing her.

  To Sonia’s amazement, Giovanna had rung an old-fashioned bell placed on the table. A white-haired man in a dark suit opened the door. He appeared to be somewhere in his fifties and greeted them in Italian. Sonia murmured a Buongiorno, assuming correctly this was Donato—the family butler or some equivalent of that.

  “What would you like to drink?” Giovanna asked them.

  “A soft drink is fine,” Sonia replied.

  “Nonsense,” Fabrizzio put in. “This is a celebration, so we shall have champagne. Isn’t that so, amico?” He gestured to Giovanni, who shrugged and smiled at Sonia, in a do-we-have-a-choice manner. “I agree, Fabri. This occasion definitely calls for champagne.”

  Giovanna told Donato something in Italian and he inclined his head, then left the room.

  “So, is this the first time you come to Italy, Sonia?” Giovanna asked.

  “Yes, it is. I find it lovely, one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to.”

  “It’s so very brave of you to come and live here without even having seen the place first, without knowing the language,” Fabrizzio remarked, his fingers linked in front of him.

  “I…have every confidence in Giovanni,” Sonia said, fighting the need to squirm under the curious gazes of her interviewers. She knew they were weighing and studying her, and she perfectly understood. If she would have been in Giovanna’s place, she would have questioned her motivation and been circumspect out of love for her son.

  “That’s good,” Giovanna said approvingly, toying with her wedding ring—a platinum band surrounded by sparkling diamonds. “How did you meet my son anyway? Giovanni never got around to telling me much about you, except for the fact you two are planning to get married.”

  “He came to the place where I work and asked me to teach him to shoot. I’m a target shooting trainer.”

  “The best,” Giovanni put in and squeezed her hand under the table, in comfort and reassurance.

  She smiled.

  “You probably said that to make me stay overtime and give you a lesson when you came to the range that day,” she said, smiling into his eyes at the sweet memory of that first December night with him in the deserted range.

  “And you told me you were indeed the best and that I’d never be as good as you,” he reminded her grinning one-sidedly, making the older couple laugh.

  “I like a self-confident woman,” Giovanna said, entertained. “Do you like Italian food, Sonia?”

  “I like food of any kind as long as I don’t have to cook it,” she replied. Then it occurred to her maybe that wasn’t a wise thing to say to her future mother-in-law. But Giovanna only chuckled.

  “You do remind me of myself, my dear. Fabri is terrified whenever I attempt to enter the kitchen.”

  “Well, it is dangerous for you to be there, amore,” her husband confirmed, smiling widely. “Terrible things happen when she sets her mind to cook. Last time she made the pasta so spicy my eyes watered for two days.”

  Giov
anni snorted and Sonia darted him a look, silently warning him to keep his mouth shut about her own attempt in the kitchen that had ended with similar consequences.

  “Linda did say you two ladies are very alike,” he reminded her. “Gerard agreed too.”

  “They did? Well, personally I’m flattered by the comparison,” Giovanna said delighted. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t be there for their wedding. But we will surely be there for yours.”

  Donato came in pushing a cart loaded with so much food one could feed an entire regiment. He proceeded to serve them, and then asked Fabrizzio something in Italian.

  “No, no.” He waved the butler away. “Go and rest, Donato. I will do the honors and open the champagne,” Fabrizzio said in English, then stood. “Glasses at the ready,” he urged everybody, taking the quirk screw. He opened the bottle with a flourish and a cheerful pop, as the others cheered, extending their arms to catch the bubbly liquid in their glasses before it spilled.

  When all glasses were full, he lifted his own.

  “To our son and the beautiful bride he has chosen. May you be as happy as Giovanna and I are. Welcome to the family, darling Sonia!”

  “Salute!” Sonia and Giovanni entwined in unison. The clink of crystal sounded festive—a token of joy and the optimism of new beginnings.

  “Now let’s eat!” Fabrizzio prompted, sitting again in his chair.

  The pasta had been served with a rich sauce. Sonia detected tomatoes, ham and mushrooms in it, as she mingled it with the thin spaghetti ribbons. She was just wondering if she could make something similar without disastrous results, when Giovanna reopened the conversation.

  “I have to admit when Giovanni told me what you do, I was speechless. I don’t mean in a bad way,” she added, taking a fork full of pasta. “But it’s a quite unusual career choice. How did you come to be a target shooting trainer?”

  Sonia wiped her mouth with her napkin, swallowing the first delicious bite. It definitely had some oregano too.

  “That’s what Giovanni asked me when we met. As I told him, I’ve been fascinated by guns ever since I was a child. Just a special passion, that’s all. As it happened, I was good at this sport.”

  “I see. Maybe a native inclination? What do your parents do?”

  The familiar twinge of pain and regret came as expected. And, as she’d done for the past ten years when confronted with such questions, Sonia fought it back.

  “My parents are dead,” she replied, looking into her plate as though taking a casual interest in her food. “They were killed in a car crash ten years ago, when I was nineteen.”

  The usual moment of awkward silence was interrupted when Giovanna said, in a deep sincere voice, “I’m so sorry. I know how heart wrenching it is to lose a parent.” After a slight pause, she asked, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. It’s just me.”

  “Nineteen…” Fabrizzio mused, sorrow imprinted on his handsome face. “So young and left alone in the world. You don’t have anybody else?”

  She lifted her gaze to glance at him.

  “I have myself.” Moving her eyes to Giovanna’s, she added, “And now I have Giovanni. It’s more than I could ever possibly need. I couldn’t be more grateful,” she continued, smiling when Giovanni took her hand and kissed it softly, returning her smile.

  “You’re a strong woman. And a brave one, to put your fate and faith into my son’s hands. I think that’s the biggest proof of love and trust one could offer. But remember, now you also have a family,” Giovanna told her in a quiet voice.

  Looking across the table at the older woman, Sonia felt a life-lasting connection had already been established between them.

  “Thank you,” she replied, her lips parting into a warm smile, reciprocated by Giovanna.

  “She knows that, Mamma,” Giovanni said, stroking her cheek affectionately, his eyes flooding her with love. She rested her cheek in his palm just for a heartbeat, aware of the other couple studying them. However, she was no longer weary of their curiosity, because she felt the kindness behind it. These people had become her family. Such a strange word for her—one she hadn’t spoken in many years, nor to which she could relate. She’d been on her own too long and felt overwhelmed by their sudden acceptance and offered fondness.

  As though sensing her drift into introspective melancholy, Fabrizzio asked in his jovial tone, “So, do you plan to continue working here as a target shooting trainer?”

  “Yes I do, as soon as I can handle the language well enough.”

  “Lucia is teaching her,” said Giovanni. “And I’ve never watched so much TV in my life since she’s around,” he joked, rolling his eyes toward her. “She’s watching anything that has Italian subtitles, from soap operas to documentaries on the mating of lions.”

  Giovanna bubbled out a laugh.

  “That should be interesting. How do you like the house? That was another step to domesticity with which Giovanni shocked us.”

  “It’s absolutely gorgeous,” Sonia answered animated. “And I’m completely in love with Guccio.”

  “Ah, a dog…the closest thing I have to a grandchild so far. I hope you’ll get to work on that as soon as possible. I want to be a young, fashionable grandmother.” Giovanna sighed, making Sonia blush. It seemed it was never too soon or inappropriate to talk about mating and making grandbabies in the Coriola-Angeli family.

  “Do you have anything left to take from England, or is your move complete here?” Fabrizzio asked her, as he placed an enormous piece of cake onto his dessert plate.

  “Well, I’ll have to give in my notice,” she replied, following his example, because the cake looked absolutely mouthwatering, with layers of chocolate and a mountain of cherries on top. “I’ll do that after the holidays and make sure my teams have an appropriate replacement. I’m sorry to leave them. They were making progress, but I have someone in mind who will do his best in continuing their training.”

  “Good, that’s good. We have bombarded you with questions, poor child. You haven’t even had time to eat properly. While you do that, it’s your turn to be grilled, amico,” he told Giovanni. “How’s the business going?”

  “It’s going fine,” Giovanni said around a mouth full of cake. “Since I’ve taken a month’s vacation, I haven’t been to the office, but I’m always up to date. We are, after all, technology freaks. Sonia calls me the computer king,” he went on chuckling, making everyone laugh. “How about you? Bought any interesting properties lately? I forgot to tell you.” He turned to Sonia. “Fabrizzio is dealing with real estate, among other things. He was the first to discover our home.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, well,” Fabrizzio said, “I planned to buy and resell it, but something urged me to show it to Giovanni first. Thank God I did! I am now contemplating buying an ex-hotel building. They wanted to demolish it, but I see some potential there.”

  “Oh, Dio! They’re talking business now. Come on, Sonia,” Giovanna intervened and stood. “If you’re finished, let’s get out of here. I want to show you the rest of the house. Amore, put some more logs in the hearth, the fire is dying out,” she told Fabrizzio and bent to kiss his cheek.

  Then she crossed her arm through Sonia’s and led her out of the room to a sumptuous staircase.

  “Let’s go up to the library. I have something for you, a pre-wedding present. By the way, I never asked, have you two set a date?” Giovanna said as they climbed the stairs.

  “Not yet. We’re still enjoying the status of being engaged,” she joked.

  “How about San Valentino’s Day? That would be symbolic and very romantic.”

  “Do you celebrate Valentine’s Day too, here in Italy?”

  “Sonia…Dia de San Valentino has been a Christian holiday in Rome for hundreds of years,” Giovanna informed her, as she opened a heavy-looking wooden door, the first one in a row of doors standing on both sides of a long corridor.

  The room was a book empire, three out
of four walls were covered with bookshelves from top to bottom. Sonia spun around in awe, angling her head back as she marveled at this universe of knowledge. It smelled of wood, old paper, ink and leather bindings. Big chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystals sparkling in the light coming through a trio of windows.

  “Oh, my God! I could live here all of my life, right in this room!”

  “Do you enjoy books?”

  “Immensely,” Sonia replied and turned to the other woman. “I left more than a few dozen back in London, in my flat. We’ll collect them when we go back after the holidays.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  Giovanna noticed Sonia’s amulet and, reaching out to touch it, held it between her elegant fingers.

  “This is quite unique,” she remarked, studying it carefully.

  “Yes… We came across it in a rather unusual way,” Sonia replied, recalling the old antiquarian and his cryptic riddles.

  “How’s that?”

  Sonia recounted briefly their eventful visit to the antique shop and the story of the amulet—as the old man had told it. Giovanna listened intrigued, her graceful eyebrows raised in curiosity.

  “That is indeed strange. I’ve never read of the existence of such an amulet owned by Dante. And I know his biography and the legends related to him pretty well. In any case, the present I have for you will go perfectly with this pendant,” she said and headed to one of the bookcases.

  “Oh, Mrs. Angeli, you don’t have to—”

  “Call me Giovanna, please,” she interrupted, taking a small jewelry box from one of the shelves. She turned to face Sonia.

  “I know we barely know each other, Sonia, but I like you. My son chose you to be his bride. That means a lot to me. You will soon become my daughter, and for us family is very important.”

  She smiled wistfully, her eyes looking at some long-lost memories.

  “Vincente, my first husband, didn’t put too much stock into family. We were both very young when we got married, full of dreams. Neither of us had had a significant relationship. But soon after our children were born, Vincente discovered other women existed and he enjoyed them very much. The younger, the better. I wasn’t enough for him. So this time I chose a man who had plenty of women. I know I’m not his first, but I know I’ll be his last. You can even teach me how to shoot so I can make sure of that.”