by C. De Melo
“Do I detect the scent of peposo?” Domenico inquired, sniffing the air.
“Yes,” Vittorio replied. “I had the cook prepare your favorite dish. Welcome, gentlemen.”
Allegra’s gaze instantly rested on Bruno, who looked dashing in a black suede doublet with slashed sleeves.
“Signorina Allegra,” Bruno said, bowing over her hand. When he noticed the blue glass bead at her throat, he smiled wistfully. “You still wear it.”
“Sometimes.”
Bruno straightened, staring deeply into her eyes. “The color matches your eyes perfectly.”
“That’s what you said when you gave it to me.” Allegra turned to Domenico to hide her discomfiture. “You must be very happy to have your son home.”
“I am,” the old man replied. “God has finally answered my prayers.”
Vittorio patted Bruno’s back. “Hopefully, he will stay in Florence.”
“He promised that he would.”
“Let’s hope he keeps it.”
“Did you hear, Vittorio? There’s been another murder in the city.” The old man shook his head. “Another visiting nobleman. The Otto found him with severed fingers.”
“Thieves,” Allegra said.
A servant doled out chalices of wine.
Bruno took a long sip, his eyes never leaving Allegra’s face.
She continued, “The number of peasant farmers moving into the city increases each year. Work is scarce, and many of these men are forced to beg in order to feed their families. Unsurprisingly, the number of robberies in Florence corresponds with the rise in population.”
Bruno’s eyes narrowed. “Most women pay little heed to such matters.”
“I’m not like most women, Signore Bruno.”
During dinner, the conversation verged on tedious as the two older men discussed politics. Bruno and Allegra pretended to listen while exchanging furtive glances.
Upon hearing the name of a certain official, Bruno said, “I came across that name in one of our ledgers. The last three pieces he purchased for his wife were designed by La Castagna.”
“Ah, he’s a good customer,” Domenico said. Turning to his hosts, he added, “This peposo is delicious.”
Bruno continued as if his father hadn’t spoken. “In fact, most of the sales coming into the bottega are from La Castagna commissions.”
“Yes, my son.”
“His symbol hangs from our door.”
“The golden chestnut is widely known as a mark of excellence.”
Bruno quietly demanded, “Who is this man?”
“I’ve already explained the situation.”
Vittorio interjected, “La Castagna wishes to keep his identity secret.”
“Why all the mystery, I wonder?” Bruno mused.
Domenico regarded his son impatiently. “Who knows? Who cares?”
Bruno would not be put off so easily. “I care.”
“Perhaps society would not accept him otherwise,” Allegra suggested in an innocent tone, incurring nervous glances from Domenico and Vittorio.
Bruno frowned. “What do you mean?”
“What if La Castagna is disfigured? Or a cripple who cannot walk?”
Vittorio cleared his throat and gave his daughter a warning look.
“Do you truly believe all this secrecy is due to a physical deformity?” Bruno inquired, amused. “It’s an interesting theory, I’ll give you that.”
“It’s a practical one,” she shot back. “For all we know, he could be hideously scarred or perhaps even a dwarf.”
Bruno turned to his father. “We need to come up with something to rival La Castagna’s designs.”
Exasperated, Domenico set down his spoon. “Bruno—”
“Father, please! I certainly can’t fault you for cutting a deal with this unscrupulous goldsmith while I wasn’t here, but I’m back now, and it’s my duty to prevent you from making further mistakes.”
Allegra regarded Bruno steadily. Unscrupulous? Mistakes?
Bruno continued, “Our apprentices toil to create an outsider’s designs. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Domenico countered. “La Castagna gives us a handsome percentage on each item sold. I’m old, and these gnarled hands can no longer keep up with the number of commissions we receive.”
“Every La Castagna piece that leaves our bottega is one less Spinelli piece sold,” Bruno pointed out, his eyes hard. “If he abandons us for a better deal elsewhere, we’re ruined.”
Feeling uncomfortable, Allegra motioned to a servant. “More wine.”
Bruno continued, “Do you not see my point, Signore Vittorio?”
“I understand your concern,” Vittorio conceded for the sake of argument. “But you should view this arrangement with La Castagna as an amiable collaboration, not a competition.”
“Forgive me if I don’t agree with you.” To Allegra, he added, “Nor do I agree with your theory. La Castagna’s designs are not the work of a dwarf or a deformed individual, but rather a man suffering from the sin of pride.”
“Pride?” she repeated, taken aback.
“Have you ever truly looked at his jewelry?” he challenged. “In addition to being ostentatious, it screams of desperation.”
Allegra’s fury bubbled to the surface. “La Castagna’s pieces are finely executed, his designs unique.”
“From what I’ve seen of his work, you’re correct. No goldsmith in the city would dispute his skill—it’s flawless,” Bruno conceded. “However, this is a man who wishes to exalt himself above others; a man who doesn’t care about those he crushes underfoot.”
“I think you’re being a bit harsh, my son,” Domenico muttered with an apologetic glance in Allegra’s direction.
“Forgive me if I don’t share your opinion, Father.”
Noticing his daughter’s distress, Vittorio inquired, “Are you suggesting that La Castagna is deliberately ruining the lives of our fellow citizens?”
“Based on the rumors, yes.”
Allegra said, “Signore Bruno, you sound as if you loathe La Castagna.”
“I do,” he affirmed icily.
She dropped her gaze and hid her trembling hands in her lap.
“Initially, I had doubts about La Castagna, too,” Vittorio said to appease Bruno. “So far, he’s not given us any reason not to trust him.”
Allegra regained her composure and stared at Bruno. “That’s an interesting medallion around your neck. Did one of the Spinelli apprentices make it or did you acquire it abroad during your travels?”
Her reckless comment earned wary glances from Domenico and Vittorio.
“It’s a recent gift from a friend who knotted it around my neck as I slept.
Bruno’s intimate confession resulted in an awkward silence. Undeterred, Allegra stood and walked toward him.
“Allegra,” Vittorio said in a warning tone.
Ignoring her father, she touched the medallion, her shaking fingers brushing against Bruno’s hot skin as she flipped it over. “Oh, it bears La Castagna’s stamp.”
Without a word, he removed a knife from his belt and cut the leather cord around his neck. The medallion fell to the floor and rolled under the table.
“Bruno,” Domenico chided. “Is this really necessary? Our hosts don’t deserve such disrespect.”
“Signore Vittorio, Signorina Allegra, I apologize,” Bruno offered. “Father, you believe this reclusive goldsmith is your friend, but he is not.”
Shaken by the vehement act, Allegra returned to her seat and said nothing more. Domenico took the opportunity to steer the subject back to the safer shores of politics and banking.
After dinner they retired to the library where honeyed wine and cheese awaited them. Vittorio and Domenico settled by the fire and continued their political debate, affording Bruno the opportunity to speak with Allegra.
“Forgive me for upsetting you earlier,” he said quietly.
“There’s no need
to apologize, Signore Bruno.”
“I hate seeing my father’s kindness being taken for granted by an upstart that I know nothing about.”
“You’re a good son for worrying about him.”
“I’m a terrible son who abandoned my father when he needed me most.”
“Signore Bruno—”
Holding up his hand, he continued, “I’m determined to make up for my negligence. It’s a wonder he accepted me back into his good graces.”
She gently touched his arm. “Your father is happy to have you back—we all are.” Bruno glanced at her hand, compelling her to add, “Forgive me if I spoke out of turn.”
“You did warn me that you were different than most women.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “I must confess that I’ve never had a woman fall into my arms until you came along.”
“How mortifying…”
“How intriguing,” he countered. “That English dance has become…”
She glanced at his arms as he spoke, recalling their warmth and strength. Her gaze slowly drifted to his broad shoulders and she wondered what they looked like beneath his doublet. He leaned closer and she caught a faint whiff of cinnamon. Did his skin taste spicy, too?
“Did you notice that as well?” he asked.
The question broke her reverie. “What?”
Bruno’s eyes swept over her before a knowing smile touched his lips.
Santa Madonna! What was wrong with her? “Forgive me, Signore.”
“So young, so powerful,” he whispered.
Embarrassed, she averted her gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do…”
The room grew suddenly hot. “Would you care for more wine?”
Ignoring her attempt to change the subject, he said, “You can have any man in Florence eating out of the palm of your delicate hand.”
“You flatter me.”
“And flattered women make bad decisions.”
Anabella.
Allegra made no reply and he cursed softly. “How rude of me.”
“I understand why you feel the way you do.”
“How could you? You were so young back then, a mere child.”
“I remember the suffering of a good man who didn’t deserve the terrible fate bestowed upon him.”
Bruno’s mouth formed a taut line as he extracted the compass from his pocket. “Your thoughtful gift and well-wishes made me believe that some light still existed in this dark world. In my saddest moments, I would often recall the innocence and sincerity in your eyes when you said farewell.”
“You had always treated me with kindness and respect, so I wanted to give you something to remember me by. It pleases me greatly that you’re so fond of my gift.”
His eyes glistened. “I miss my son every day.”
The simple admission pained her heart. “I’m so sorry.”
“Unfortunately, the past cannot be rectified; we can only move forward.” He sighed. “Enough of this unpleasantness. Let’s talk of other things.”
“Why a scorpion?”
“The medallion?” She nodded and he continued, “The person who gave it to me is obsessed with astrology. I was born in the House of Scorpio, and my element is water. She also created a chart for me.”
“She must care for you a great deal.”
“Maybe she does but, to me, she is only a friend.”
Obviously, their definition of friendship differed greatly. “I recently discovered that I, too, have a chart. I’m Aries and my element is fire.”
“The ram is known to be stubborn and headstrong,” he said. “Do you fit that description, Signorina Allegra?”
“Those who know me well would probably say yes.”
“I remember dancing with you on my wedding day. You said you’d never marry.”
“And I never have.”
Chapter 19
On a chilly October morning, Allegra set out for the market in search of hair ribbons and fabric for a new cloak. It wasn’t often that she shopped for such frivolities, but with Christmas being only a few months away, she wanted to be prepared for any social events. She could have easily dispatched a servant to procure these items, but the last few commissions had kept her housebound, and she needed to breathe a bit of fresh air.
Gianna, who accompanied her, stopped before a stall flaunting several bolts of brightly dyed fabrics. “This one here would bring out the blue in your eyes,” she said, indicating a plush blue velvet shot with silver thread.
Allegra nodded thoughtfully. “What about this one?”
“Red is nice, too.” Then as an afterthought, Gianna added, “While we’re out, we should stop by the Loggia del Pesce in the Piazza dei Ciompi. Your father would relish a good fish stew when he comes home from Orvieto.”
“Yes,” Allegra agreed distractedly as she gravitated toward another vendor selling brocade in periwinkle blue with gold patterning.
A male voice said, “The colors are perfect for you.”
Allegra and Gianna turned around to see Bruno standing behind them.
“Buongiorno,” he said cheerfully.
Allegra inquired, “What are you doing here so early in the day?”
“Shopping, like you.” He pointed to the fabric. “I meant what I said. This color compliments your eyes, Signorina Allegra.”
Wearing a knowing smile, Gianna quietly shuffled to the next stall to give them a measure of privacy.
“How are things at the bottega?” Allegra asked, despite knowing everything that goes on there.
“Business is good. The apprentices are busy.”
“And your father is well?” Allegra saw Domenico yesterday when he came to the Palazzo Castagno with a new commission.
“Yes, thank you. I hear your father went to Orvieto.”
She nodded. “He’s expected back tonight.”
An awkward silence followed. Gianna, pretending to look at sewing needles, strained her ears to eavesdrop on them.
Bruno took a step closer and said softly, “I must confess something. I can’t stop thinking of you.”
Paolina Gori suddenly stepped out from behind one of the stalls. Dressed in an elegant gown of copper satin, she looked pointedly at Allegra with a cold smile on her face. Placing a proprietary hand on Bruno’s arm, she said, “Did she fall into your arms again, mio amore?”
Although the comment was meant as a jest, there was no mistaking the animosity in the widow’s eyes.
“Not this time,” Bruno replied, his tone laden with regret.
“Signora Paolina, how do you do?” Allegra said politely. “I believe we have never been formally introduced.”
“No, we have not,” she replied coolly. “Although I have commissioned work from La Castagna through your father, whom I admire.”
Small wonder you have not attempted to bed him. Allegra vanquished the wicked thought. “I’m pleased to hear it, Signora.”
“Shall we go?” Paolina suggested to Bruno.
Bruno nodded. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Signorina Allegra. Send my regards to your father.”
“Thank you.”
Gianna came to stand by her mistress. “It seems you have a rival.”
“Nonsense,” Allegra snapped. “I have no interest in Signore Bruno.”
“I was under the impression that you liked him.”
“Only as a friend, nothing more.” When Gianna stared at her in disbelief, she grew annoyed. “Let’s purchase this fabric and go home.”
“What about the fish?”
“We can send a servant.”
Gianna smiled inwardly and said nothing more.
***
Christmastime meant gifts, and the demand for Allegra’s jewelry had increased due to the season. Domenico, Vittorio, and Allegra held a meeting to discuss ways to efficiently handle the various commissions received at the bottega. They were seated in the library and looked up in surprise when Gianna appeared in the doorway with Bruno in tow.
Confused, Domenico said, “I thought you said you had errands to run, my son.”
“I changed my mind.” Looking to Vittorio, Bruno added, “I hope my presence is welcome, Signore.”
“Most definitely. Gianna, have the servants bring out some refreshment.”
Noticing Allegra, Bruno regarded her with unabashed curiosity. To her dismay, his eyes begged the question: what are you doing here?
Bruno sat down beside his father. “I want to discuss a few ideas with you and Signore Vittorio that will help sell more Spinelli pieces.”
“We have more commissions than we can handle right now,” Domenico pointed out. “We can barely keep up!”
“Yes, but they’re mostly La Castagna’s,” Bruno countered.
“The bottega will profit greatly, thanks to those commissions.”
“Signore Domenico is right,” Allegra said.
Bruno looked at her, surprised. “Do you often voice your opinions on matters of business, Signorina?”
“Allegra aids me greatly in my work,” Vittorio explained.
Intrigued, Bruno leaned forward in his chair. “How so?”
“I help my father with client orders and accounting,” she replied, cringing inwardly at the coldness in his eyes.
Vittorio said, “Allegra also advises the ladies when she travels with me.”
Bruno’s eyes never left Allegra’s face as he cocked his head to the side. “Advise them on what, if I may ask?”
“She has a keen eye for style and proportion,” Vittorio replied. “She helps our clients select the metals and gemstones that work best for them.”
“How do you advise them?” Bruno pressed. “Do you describe the pieces before they’re even created?”
Annoyed by his son’s impertinence, Domenico blurted out, “She sketches them.”
Allegra stiffened and Vittorio shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Bruno’s look went from surprised to accusatory. “Father mentioned something about La Castagna being provided with sketches. I had no idea they came from you.”
“What? No,” Allegra protested, looking to her father for help.
“Well, it’s not quite like that,” Vittorio said.
Bruno frowned in confusion. “Please explain.”
Allegra swallowed hard. “Well, I…er…I provide a rough sketch. Basic shapes, mostly.”