by Ciji Ware
“Attenzione!”
Allegra called for quiet among her assembled Il Ballo production team and office crew. The core group, numbering nearly thirty, sat and stood around a big table, prepared to go over the timeline for the upcoming event. Commencing in the early hours the next morning, they would load their catering equipment into the palazzo and set up for the cocktail party, a seated dinner to be held on the upper floors, as well as install the theatrical gear required by the Cirque de Soleil-type entertainment scheduled to take place throughout the glittering evening. A disco for the more energetic guests would be created on the ground floor where everyone was scheduled to enter the palazzo from their arriving water taxis.
“That is, if the waters aren’t too high and the dock’s still floating there,” someone commented nervously.
Before Allegra could continue reading from her list of assignments, those present heard a loud knock at the open door. Serena swiveled in her leather chair and stifled a small scream.
Framed in the doorway stood Jack Durand, flanked by an equally tall, broad-shouldered man and a good-looking woman clad in a full-length fox fur coat. Both Jack and his male companion were swathed in raingear and tall rubber boots that were still slick with moisture. Jack nodded to his now-silent audience and addressed Allegra as he advanced a few steps into the conference room.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Benedetti,” he began, a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There is a boat with a lot of drums of sealant and bags of special limestone plaster from America tied up not too far from here.”
He made a slight bow and then gestured to his companions who remained standing in the doorway.
“May I introduce you to the cousins of your American colleague, Ms. Antonelli? This is Kingsbury Duvallon, of the New Orleans Historic Preservation Alliance, and his wife, Corlis McCullough, a broadcast journalist. Do we have the permission of the local authorities to take this material to the palazzo and see if we can seal out that water in time for the ball?”
Since most of Allegra’s team understood English to varying degrees, a rousing cheer went up, followed by a buzz of excited conversations. Their leader cast a dazzling smile in the direction of the surprise visitors and held out both hands in greeting as she rose from her chair at the end of the conference table.
“In America, don’t you say, ‘the cavalry has arrived?’“ Allegra declared, turning to Serena for confirmation.
However, her second-in-command could only stare at Jack while Allegra embraced him and then, in turn, kissed Corlis and King on both cheeks, European style.
“The warmest of Venetian welcomes to darling Serena’s cousins from New Orleans. Bravi! And I can’t believe you’ve come back to us, Jack... or that you three have wrought such a miracle. Grazie! Mille Grazie!”
Jack responded with a depreciative shrug.
“I persuaded my editor that a story about a traditional, fifteenth century palazzo and a carnival ball trying to literally keep its head above water after the series of storms you’ve been having was a worthy subject for the Mardi Gras-loving citizens of New Orleans to read later this week.”
Allegra laughed. “Then you are doubly welcome back to Venice, caro.”
But Serena could see that Jack had begun to frown.
“What about the authorities, though?” he asked. Gesturing in the direction of his male companion he added, “King, here, whom I hasten to tell you is the man who truly wrought this miracle, managed to talk us through your Customs. Fortunately, the engineer, Paolo Bronzoni, was there to help translate and had a launch waiting to get the sealant materials and us away from the airport before any more demands could be made on us. However, my question to you is, can we go ahead and use everything we’ve brought from America to try to fix the building that I understand you don’t own?”
Allegra bid them to join the group gathered around the large conference table. She pointed to a stack of papers resting near her place at the head.
“The Preservation Alliance’s letterhead worked wonders with the historical landmarks commission here. They put pressure on the city’s building permits and inspection department officials to agree to your scheme, and between all that and your friend Paolo—who must have waved a magic wand somewhere—we just received the permission an hour ago to do the work, even without the autorizzazione of the palazzo’s owners, who live mostly in Morocco and don’t embrace the telefonino, the mobile phone. This morning the project was officially declared una situazione di emergenza.”
“An emergency situation,” Serena supplied automatically, still staring at Jack, not quite believing what was standing ten feet away.
She hadn’t heard a word from him in days, or he from her. She had almost persuaded herself that she was, at last, making a measurable amount of progress forgetting their time together in January. Seeing him, now, instantly erased any belief she may have harbored that she was slowly getting over the pangs of remorse that had burrowed into her heart from the moments she turned her back on him at the Danieli Hotel.
Allegra formally introduced her American visitors to her employees. A ripple of recognition and admiration rose when she recited King Duvallon’s achievements saving from demolition a major historic building on Canal Street in New Orleans’ French Quarter that had once been owned by the city’s Free People of Color back in the nineteenth century, adding in rapid Italian, “and this is also the man who lead the effort to restore damaged and aging structures all over the city following the devastation of Hurricane Katrina.”
While this recitation was going on, Serena dared glance again at Jack who briefly met her gaze and then looked down at his knee-high boots. Was he deliberately avoiding her, Serena wondered?
“And now, my dear American saviors,” Allegra said gaily, “shall I ride with you to the palazzo and show you where to unload those wonderful products you’ve brought with you?” She seized the pile of correspondence from the table, turned, and smiled at Serena with a twinkle in her eye. “You are responsible for keeping these precious documents in hand.”
“Fine,” Serena said, nodding. “I won’t let them out of my sight.”
“Oh... but you are to come with us, cara, for I fear I will need you to translate to the workers waiting there what means this ‘ArcusStone’ and instructions for applying it. Also, there are a few other terms that will need explanation in these letters from our friends, here, as well as the nonsense written to me from the officials at the Condono Edilizio and the Ufficio Catasto. Andiamo.”
“Let’s go,” Serena translated Allegra’s last command, wondering what, exactly, a trip to the palazzo with this group would mean for Jack and her...
A long, wooden boat sat deep in the water beside a canal not far from Allegra’s office. The vessel was laden with the heavy materials that had been air-shipped from America and was under the protection of Paolo Bronzoni who stood like a sentry in the stern. Meanwhile, Allegra proposed a change of plans. Corlis and Serena should depart on foot, directly to the nearby costume rental shop. Snow had begun to fall again, and the mist was so thick upon the water that it would be slow-going up the Grand Canal to the palazzo.
“As there is so little time before the ball,” explained Allegra hurriedly to Jack and King, “I want Serena and Corlis to choose costumes for themselves and for you two, also, since they know your sizes. Meanwhile, I’ll take back all those papers I gave to Serena and we can get started immediately on applying the sealant. Between you men, Paolo, and me traveling together to the palazzo by boat, we can surely figure out the English-to-Italian instructions for applying the products you’ve brought.”
Jack took a few steps toward Serena, but before he could say anything to her privately, she turned and seized Corlis by the hand to guide her back toward the costume rental shop one alley over from Allegra’s main office.
Corlis called over her shoulder, “See you back at the Pensione Accademia at six, okay, King?” She halted dead in her tracks and asked Serena
, “Do you know where that is and how in the world I can get there, later?”
Serena laughed and then dug into her coat pocket with nary a glance in Jack’s direction.
“Before we’re through, I will give you a quick lesson in how to read this map. You are definitely going to need it!” She handed Corlis a fold-up map the size of a playing card. “This proved to be a Godsend when I first arrived.”
Jack felt cut to the quick. Hadn’t she said he was a Godsend, showing her “his” Venice, including their “Magical Midnight Mystery Tours?” Why hadn’t he spoken to her the minute they walked into Allegra’s office? He had wanted nothing more than to enfold her in his arms, but it had been simply a matter of too many people in the room for such a momentous encounter, to say nothing of everything else going on regarding attempts to repair the palazzo’s lower floors. She obviously felt he’d deliberately avoided her, and now, she was obviously avoiding him.
He watched Corlis tuck the miniature map into the pocket of her fur coat and the two women headed off once more into the snow-laden mist without a backward glance.
“Get on board, buddy,” ordered King, who had taken in the entire scene. As Jack passed him to step into the stout vessel, his friend mumbled. “I’d say you have some pretty tall fences to mend.”
Allegra was already standing near neatly stacked piles of bags labeled ArcusStone. She gave Jack a brief, sympathetic glance as he passed by. However, she didn’t engage him further, but, instead, turned to King and swiftly fell into an animated conversation about the tasks that lay ahead.
Allegra’s assistant, Francesca, was waiting for Corlis and Serena upstairs at the costume rental shop that was tucked away down a narrow alley to the left of the Piazza San Marco. At the top of the stairs was a floor where racks of glittering costumes made of bejeweled satins and sequined silks filled a cramped area. Nearby were several large fitting rooms with wine red velvet curtains where customers were allowed to try on a vast array of finery from which to choose.
“Wow, wow, and wow...” breathed Corlis as she caught sight of a large glass case full of dazzling headdresses, also sparkling with faux jewels and a rainbow of plumes, along with a spectacular collection of costume jewelry and elegant masks fashioned for both men and women.
“Allegra insists that her four hundred guests be dressed in proper, period attire,” Francesca explained, “so over the years, she designed and had all these beautiful costumes constructed, as Serena well knows by now,” she added with an appreciative smile aimed in her colleague’s direction.
She gestured toward a male mannequin bedecked in midnight blue satin knee breeches, white silk stockings and black buckled brogues. The handsomely tailored three-quarters jacket was made of the same deep blue, but in velvet, embellished with silver lace on the wide cuffs. Two rows of sterling silver buttons marched up the jacket’s front and flanked a white satin, intricately embroidered waistcoat with a froth of lace bubbling at the throat.
“I think that would suit Signor Duvallon quite well, don’t you?” Francesca inquired. “As it seems to be in his size, it would look splendidly on a man of his stature, si?”
“Oh, yes,” Corlis agreed, clapping her hands. “He’ll far outshine me in that outfit, for sure.”
“Ah... but Allegra wants you to try on this,” Francesca said, pointing to a deeply cut bodice made of golden satin, overlaid with gold tissue organza and studded with closely aligned pearls.
Hinged, umbrella-like bamboo panniers, two feet wide at the hips, supported the gown’s billowing skirt made of the same, rich fabric, à la Marie Antoinette.
“It’s a court gown,” Serena chimed in. “It comes with a set of gossamer wings attached to the back, as well as an elaborate, jeweled and feathered headpiece worn on quite an impressive eighteenth century white wig.”
“OMG...” Corlis murmured. “It’s exquisite! Allegra selected this for me? This must rent for a pile of euros! She doesn’t even know me.”
Francesca smiled softly. “She already considers you and Signor Duvallon good friends for all you have done to make it possible for us hold the ball this year. She wore this costume herself the year... the year her husband passed away. It is very dear to her.”
Corlis was led to a dressing room and, after several long minutes, appeared completely transformed, with the organza wings creating a sense of magic.
“Oh, Corlis,” Serena declared on a long breath. “You look fantastic in it!”
“I am honored to wear it,” Corlis said, with a grateful glance in Francesca’s direction. “Please thank Allegra for me when you see her later, will you?” She gently touched the beadwork just below the curve of the tight-fitting bodice. “This is incredible! What an amazing world you’ve chosen to be part of, Serena.”
“I know,” she agreed. “I’m humbled every time I walk into this place.”
“Well, you’re no slouch yourself, missy,” Corlis replied over her shoulder as she retreated toward the dressing room to remove the gown that fit her so perfectly. “I think the champagne costume you made for me comes close to these.”
“Oh, no!” scoffed Serena, “but thank you for the kind words. Wait until you see the ideas I’ll be taking home with me,” she called to the closed curtain where King’s wife had disappeared to put on her street clothes once again.
Serena turned, smiled at Francesca, and shifted to Italian.
“I know how busy you are right now. We don’t want to take any more of your time. I think these two costumes for my cousins are perfect. Can you have them sent to the Pensione Accademia when someone has a free moment?”
“What about a costume for Jack?’ Corlis prompted, reentering the room.
Francesca pointed to a hanger with a long, flowing robe made of heavy burgundy-colored velvet decorated with gold braid trim on the neckline and sleeves.
“As a working journalist during the ball, Signor Durand will be required by tradition to wear a caftan.”
Corlis gave a laugh and winked at Serena. “Hey, he’ll be the most comfortable of all of us! Even so, I’m glad I’m off duty from WJAZ and am allowed to wear that magnificent gown Allegra picked out for me.” To Francesca she said, “Can you also send Jack’s costume to the Accademia Pensione?”
“Of course,” Francesca replied and gave instructions in rapid Italian to a member of the staff.
Corlis leaned near Serena’s ear and disclosed, “The T-P is so cheap these days, Jack paid his own way here, so we’re taking pity on him and he’s sleeping on our couch.”
Serena refrained from telling Corlis how her time with Jack in Venice began by his offering to sleep on her sofa at Ca’Arco Antico. She began to ponder the reasons for his surprise return to Venice, other than the obvious one: to help his friend King help Allegra make the palazzo habitable in time for the ball—and thus complete his story for his newspaper.
“And you, signorina?” asked Francesca, breaking into Serena’s meandering thoughts. “Allegra hopes you would enjoy wearing her beautiful Seas of Venice gown. Since you’re here, do you have time to try it on?”
“Me? Wear that?” she breathed almost in a whisper.
“What’s the matter?” Corlis said with alarm, looking from one woman to the other.
“Nothing,” Serena hastened to reply in English. “In fact, it’s wonderful! But I can’t believe that Allegra wants me to wear this to the ball,” she said, pointing to a mannequin surrounded by a three-sided mirror. “I think it may be her masterpiece!”
The reflecting glass offered a view from every angle of a frothy, sage green, strapless gown. Its contours were fashioned in waves of silky fabric to simulate the restless Adriatic that so often pounded Venice mercilessly, yet had provided the city sustenance and protected its citizens from marauders from the time of Attila the Hun. Within the folds of delicate cloth were sewn brilliants of tourmaline, faux emeralds, and man-made crystals that sparkled with the gown’s slightest movement.
“Come,” urged Francesc
a. “I will help you into this myself.”
Serena disappeared behind the red, velvet curtain cloaking the dressing room Corlis had used and eventually emerged clad in the tight-fitting “mermaid cut” gown. She had quickly pinned her dark hair on top of her head while one of the staff clapped long, dangling aquamarine and clear crystal earrings on her earlobes, along with a matching necklace that skirted the iridescent silk bodice’s daring décolletage. Francesca added the final touch with a matching silk “fascinator” styled hat that featured wisps of sage, royal blue, and purple tulle mimicking ripples on the water.
As Serena turned slowly in front of the three-paneled mirror, Corlis ventured in hushed tones, “I think you and that gown are the most beautiful creations I’ve ever seen. Your boss must think you’re something very special, Serena Antonelli.”
“She’s been extraordinarily kind, despite all the trying situations that have weighed on her this season,” Serena replied. “I’m totally amazed she’d want me to wear this gown.”
“A Grace-Under-Pressure gal, huh?” Corlis declared, linking her arm with Serena’s as if they had been friends of long-standing, which Serena suddenly felt as if they were.
“Like you, Ms. McCullough,” Serena said with a smile. “I once saw you on TV, knee-deep in water, reporting during the worst of Katrina.”
Corlis shrugged and squeezed her hand, saying only, “C’mon... get dressed and let’s go get some soup, or something, to warm up. Then you can show me how I can find the way back to my hotel on that swell little map you gave me. Jet lag just kicked in. I’ll need a nap before long.”
Serena nodded affirmatively and pointed to her purse sitting on a nearby chair, asking Francesca to hand it to her. She fished out her cellphone and checked for text messages. Then, she glanced up at Corlis.