“That’s my job,” Vincenzo insisted, standing up. He looked at Caterina and winked. “And the most important one according to your lovely sister.”
“Which one?” Cat looked at Lucia, then El, then Vincenzo, and smiled broadly.
Vincenzo chuckled. “Eliana, but you’re right, you are all lovely. Now I’ll go get another glass and another bottle of wine.” He looked at Eliana, who had begun to push back her chair, and motioned for her to stay where she was.
“I know where they are. I saw you get the other ones, and you said the wine was my responsibility, so sit.”
Eliana looked at Antonio. “Is he always this bossy?”
Antonio’s eyes danced with humor. “And then some!”
When Vincenzo returned with another glass and full bottle, he poured Caterina’s wine with a flourish, bent at his waist in a slight bow when he handed it to her. “Per te bella signorina.”
Antonio rolled his eyes, which made Lucia laugh.
“Your grandson rolls his eyes.” She regarded Vincenzo with a smirking grin. “But truth be told, there’s more of you in him than he realizes.”
And so the night went, with much joking and laughter. Vincenzo wanted to hear stories about them and their parents, the winery, and their future plans. He told a few stories of his own, mostly about Antonio when he was growing up, to a few groans and more eye rolling from that one.
They said their goodnights coming up on midnight. Lucia knew she’d regret the late hour when six rolled around tomorrow morning, but if she had it to do over, she would.
She climbed into bed. Yes, she thought, it had been a wonderful night. There was a special magic that existed in the ties between family and close friends, and it had surrounded them all this night. She rolled over and closed her eyes. A soft humming drifted past her ears, a now familiar tune. She smiled softly.
“Goodnight, Rosa,” she whispered into the shadows.
The sound of a kiss is not so loud
as that of a cannon,
but its echo lasts a great deal longer.
Oliver Wendell Holmes
The last guests checked out Tuesday morning, and as they walked out the door, Lucia laid her head down on the reception desk and moaned.
She had a headache the size of Texas. She rarely got them, unlike Cat who’d been prone to migraines since junior high, but when she did they were usually doozies. Right then, her stomach was nauseous. Her head felt like it was inside a giant clamp that kept compressing tighter and tighter.
“Are you all right, Luch?” she heard Cat say from behind her.
Lucia lifted her head. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she closed her eyes until it passed.
“Not,” she said.
Caterina stooped down and studied her at close range. She reached out and massaged the back of Lucia’s neck. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“I didn’t get any sleep last night. Now I’ve got a killer headache, and it’s making me feel like I might vomit.”
“You need to go up and lie down.”
“Can’t. El’s out, Marcella’s too busy, no one to cover.”
“Come with me, Luch. I’m taking you upstairs. We don’t have any guests and I can handle things down here.”
Lucia shook her head and the pain spiked. “You’re supposed to—”
“Hush. All I’ve got is a meeting with John Edward at one to go over the menu for his art show. I’ll give him a call and ask him to come here instead of meeting in town. It’s not a problem, so no arguments.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive, now it’s upstairs with you, and you’re not to get out of bed until you’re feeling better.”
Before leaving her to rest, Caterina gave Lucia something for the headache, pulled all the shades down over the windows to darken the room, and then quietly shut the door behind her as she walked out.
Lucia tossed and turned, tried to find a position that might ease the throbbing in her head, the roiling in her stomach. She rolled to her back and tried to imagine her body floating, tried to focus on something other than the pain. As she did, she imagined she felt fingers against her temples, light as a whisper, rubbing gently, soothing away some of the hurt, and the faint humming of a lullaby she might have heard as a child, softly calming. She began to relax.
Sleep rescued her and she slept, deep and sound, and dreamt. She was on a horse, riding along a path through the woods, similar to where she and Antonio had gone hiking. Somewhere nearby was a stream; she could hear it. She imagined the water would be cool, refreshing, and suddenly felt very thirsty.
She turned off the path, following the sound of the stream. She knew if she found it the water would taste like a glass of heaven, clean, crisp…better than any she’d ever tasted.
After what seemed like hours, she came upon the stream. As she pulled up the horse, she startled a snake coiled on the side of the path. It struck out, hissing, and spooked the horse.
It reared. The reins jerked from her hands and she began to slide. Her arms flew over her head. Then she was falling. Everything changed, the horse, the stream, the woods disappeared. All around her was empty space, an abyss through which she continued to spiral downward. Down, down, down—
Lucia woke with a jerk, a startled scream caught in her throat. Her skin was clammy, her heart was racing, and no wonder. Slowly, she sat up, rolled her head from side to side, cautious not to spur the pain, reached out with her senses for the headache that had forced her to nap away an afternoon, but felt no trace of it.
She sighed in relief. Her head and stomach seemed to have recovered without any lingering effects that might steal the rest of the day from her. She slid her legs over the edge of the bed, got up, and went into the bathroom to splash some water on her face.
When she went back into the bedroom, she heard footsteps overhead. Antonio, she thought, and smiled. She glanced at the clock and gasped. It was almost five. She really had slept away the afternoon!
She opened the window shades. Outside, she could see Marcella, moving along a row of vines with her lug, picking clusters of grapes and dropping them into the tote, working right beside the other pickers. They had workers enough to do the job. It didn’t matter, nor would it matter if they had two dozen more. Marcella would still be out there—her vines, her grapes, her wine. And she would toil tirelessly until the last of the harvest come October, when she could focus more solely on turning the fruits of the labor into liquid poetry.
Picking up her cell, Lucia texted Caterina to let her know she was awake and feeling much better. Cat messaged back that all was quiet and since nothing was happening, she’d cover the lobby until six and then leave the placard on the reception desk instructing anyone who might wander in to ring the house phone.
Taking advantage of the offer, Lucia decided to go up to the attic to see if Antonio had any plans for dinner. He was probably going to take his grandfather out, as he’d done most evenings since Vincenzo’s arrival, so she’d see if she could tag along.
As she climbed the stairs, she was amazed how much better she felt. The sleep, weird dream aside, had been a real balm. She would have to ask Cat what she’d given her for the headache because it had really knocked her out.
A memory flickered through her mind—soothing fingers gently easing away her pain, an elusive lullaby floating on the air—Rosa? Lucia blinked. Had her aunt somehow sensed her pain and tried to comfort her? Or had she just imagined the sensations?
When she rounded the landing to the attic, she heard voices and wondered if Antonio had the new television he’d bought for his office turned on. The attic door was open. She cocked an ear and recognized one of the voices as Vincenzo’s.
She stopped just outside the doorway and saw Antonio and Vincenzo sitting in the two club chairs that faced the window on the opposite wall. She lifted her hand to knock, but hesitated when she heard Antonio’s grandfather mention the betrothal contract between him and her grandfather Rodrigo.
/> IN TRUTH, IT surprised Antonio that his grandfather waited this long to bring up his relationship with Lucia. When he’d walked in on them in the kitchen last week, found them kissing and then some, Antonio had expected to hear about it the next day.
“It gives my heart such happiness to see the two of you together,” Vincenzo said. “I’ve known all these years, as surely as Rodrigo and I did when you and Lucia were born, the two of you were destined to be together. And after what I’ve seen during my visit here, I am even more convinced of it.”
Antonio leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees. He had a notion to argue, purely from habit, to poke him because it was the way of them, and because the old man didn’t deserve to be let off the hook so easily when he’d tried to blackmail him into honoring an agreement Antonio hadn’t even had a say in.
“And what a fine, fine woman she turned out to be.” Vincenzo continued to wax over Lucia. “Not only is she lovely to look at, she has a lovely soul to go with it. You are a very fortunate man, Antonio. I couldn’t have chosen better for you.” He glanced at him, gave him a raised brow, an I was right all along, wasn’t I? look.
His grandfather chuckled softly. “Oh, Rodrigo would be as delighted as I.” He glanced up toward the ceiling. “We were right, my old friend…we were right. The lad fought me on it, told me we were just two sentimental old men who turned a coincidence into a sign from the heavens with the help of too much wine. But—” He looked back at Antonio with a nod of conviction. “We were right. It was destiny the two of you join our families through blood.”
Antonio knew he’d fallen in love with Lucia of his own will, because of who she was and who they were together. He didn’t believe fate had any more to do with it than the chair he was sitting in. The only reason he’d come to Virginia was to get his grandfather off his back once and for all about fulfilling his destiny. There was no denying they’d been instantly attracted to each other—but that had been physical. And although he’d liked her right off, he hadn’t fallen head over heels in love with her, the depth and soul of her, until later, after he’d gotten to know her.
His grandfather wouldn’t believe that, no matter what Antonio said or did. He’d hang it all on destiny.
Antonio couldn’t help himself; he had to rib him just a bit, if only because of the smug grin on his grandfather’s face. He had to poke him. And when the poking was done, he’d admit the truth and thank the old man, because despite his methods, if it hadn’t been for his nonno, he probably never would have met the woman who’d captured his heart so completely.
“It seems you’ll get your way after all, Nonno. I’m going to ask Lucia to marry me.” He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “But my decision has nothing to do with love or destiny.”
Vincenzo furrowed his brow. “What other reason could there be, Antonio?”
“Are you forgetting the trust? Or the stipulation you and your friend put on it? If I don’t marry her before I turn thirty, I’ll have to wait another ten years to get my hands on the money.
“By withholding that condition until after you convinced me to let you loan me the money to start up my firm and telling me I could pay you back when the distribution was made, you leave me no other choice.”
“I had to do something to force your hand, Antonio. It was in your best interest. You’re a stubborn lad, too stubborn for your own good. You never would have come to Virginia to meet Lucia if I hadn’t forced the issue.”
“No, I wouldn’t have, but what you did was akin to blackmail. You put a noose around my neck and you’ve been tightening it ever since.”
“What can I say? I needed to take drastic measures.” Vincenzo shifted in his chair. “And would it be so horrible to marry one such as Lucia? You’re not likely to find another as beautiful, or with a heart as kind. And from what I’ve observed, she cares a lot for you.”
Antonio was having trouble maintaining the farce, but he decided to give his grandfather one last nudge before giving it up.
“No, I suppose I could do a lot worse in a wife. I hadn’t planned on getting married so soon, but two hundred and fifty thousand dollars will go a long way to take some of the sting out of being coerced into it before I was ready. And I won’t be able to pay back your loan in time without it. I’m not willing to risk losing the firm and everything I’ve worked so hard for.”
Antonio could barely hold on without cracking a smile. “So you win, I’ll ask her to marry me. It’s the only way I see to get out of this untenable financial burden you’ve put on me.”
They heard a noise behind them, and Antonio and his grandfather both looked over their shoulders to see Lucia standing in the open doorway. Antonio’s first reaction was one of pleasure at seeing her, but as he took in her shattered expression, his enjoyment plummeted at the realization she must have overheard everything he’d just said and taken it as fact.
“Lucia,” he said, the hurt in her eyes filling him with regret over his careless joke, even though there hadn’t been a shred of truth in any of it.
He stood and rounded the chair to go to her.
“No!” She held her palms out, then spun and darted off. He heard the sound of her feet against the wooden floorboards as she ran. When he reached the doorway, there was no sign of her, and a few seconds later the sound of a door slamming shut echoed up the stairway.
He pushed his fingers through his hair. What an idiot. He could try to explain he was just yanking his grandfather’s chain, but what if she didn’t believe him. Oh Christ, what had he done?
“I knew you were stringing me along that whole time, lad. I’ve seen the way you look at her and I know love when I see it.” His grandfather pushed himself up out of his chair. “I’ll admit I probably had that coming after what I did, but unfortunately, from the look on her face, Lucia believed what you were saying. I suggest you go talk to her right away and set things straight before the seeds of doubt are allowed to grow and do even more harm.”
Antonio was afraid his grandfather was right. He needed to get his ass downstairs and clear everything up before there was any chance it caused a bigger problem.
His heart clenched at the thought she might not believe him. The look on her face when he’d turned and saw her there stabbed at him. She had to believe him. She had to because if she didn’t, he didn’t know what he’d do.
“Wish me luck, Nonno.” Antonio fisted his hands and walked down the short hall to the stairway. He couldn’t lose her over this.
LUCIA SAT ON the floor at the foot of her bed. She brushed away a few more tears, tried not to cry. The tears were single-minded, wanting their own way, resolute in their attempt to make her feel even more foolish. Stupid and foolish because she loved him so much and he’d just been using her. A means to an end, that’s all she’d been.
She thought he loved her, or in the least, cared deeply. That he might have an ulterior motive never crossed her mind. Why would it? It seemed so ridiculous even though she knew differently now. She never suspected, imagined, but...
If she hadn’t heard the words coming out of Antonio’s mouth, she wouldn’t believe it, not if a dozen people tried to tell her it was true. He’d said them, though. She had heard them, and as hard as it was to accept their meaning, she couldn’t deny what they meant. He didn’t love her, never had and never would. She was nothing more than a pawn he’d played so he could get the money from some trust. Oh, and he’d played her well, hadn’t he?
And now what? Would he try to convince her he didn’t mean it, the words he’d said—the words she’d heard—in an attempt to secure the money he’d been willing to marry her to get?
She squeezed her eyes shut behind her palms, cursed the tears that refused to halt their flow. You’d think she could convince them he wasn’t worth it, convince her heart it shouldn’t be breaking over a man who would pretend to care about her just because—
There was a knock at the door.
“Lucia.” Antonio called to her,
and the sound of his voice inspired her eyes to well up even more.
She couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t face him until she knew she could control her emotions better. If nothing else, she wouldn’t fall apart in front of him, would never let him know the heart he’d managed to deceive was crumbling, breaking apart piece by jagged piece because he’d succeeded.
“Go away!” She hugged her knees and buried her head against them.
“Lucia, please…let me in so we can talk.”
“Leave me alone. We have nothing to talk about.”
“Mia amore, what you heard, it was nothing. I was only…this is a huge misunderstanding. Please let me in so I can explain.”
She didn’t need him to explain, to try convincing her he loved her when she knew the truth. She’d heard him tell his grandfather he intended to marry her. Well, he’d never asked her, never gave her any indication he was even thinking of it. Didn’t that prove he was more motivated by letting his grandfather know he was going to honor that stupid betrothal contract so he could get the money from his trust than by anything he felt toward her?
She shook her head, remembering how her heart leapt, had wanted to burst with joy and excitement in that brief second, when he said he intended to marry her…before she heard why. How could she have been so wrong about him? How could he have fooled her so completely? Hadn’t she gained any better insight into men after Brad? Apparently not. Apparently she was still a horrible judge of character.
She heard the door rattle and was glad she’d locked it when she came in. She’d wanted to be alone in her misery, at least until she could pull herself together so everyone didn’t know how utterly devastated the knowledge of his betrayal made her feel.
“Lucia, please darling. Please let me in.”
She spied her shoes lying by the side of the bed and leaned over and grabbed one. She hurled it at the door, felt a small sense of satisfaction when it banged into it with a heavy thud before falling to the floor.
Lucia (The Bonaveras) Page 22