Carissima

by Rosanna Chiofalo

Giuliana opens her mouth to protest, but I quickly cut her off.

  “Ah! I insist, so don’t argue with me. Basta!”

  “I see you still forget, Francesca, that I am the older sister. You are calling the shots as usual.”

  I have become accustomed to Giuliana’s sarcastic comments. Though they still hurt, I am beginning to realize that sometimes she is merely trying to be humorous. With each day, I feel her slowly warming up to me again. And I pray fervently that she will forgive me if she has not already. That is all I have ever wanted—her forgiveness. But I dare not enter that discussion just yet. The time is not right.

  Before walking out of Giuliana’s bedroom, I shut the blinds. As I close her door, I hear the doorbell ringing. I make my way downstairs to the foyer and soon hear voices by the front door.

  “I will make sure Signorina Donata receives these, but I am sorry. You cannot come in.”

  Angelica’s voice sounds alarmed as usual. I am surprised that girl has not had a nervous breakdown yet in her life. She is so timid and anxious.

  “Please. Let her know that Rocco Vecchio is waiting for her. I am the owner of Castello Jewelry.”

  My ears prick up. Perhaps he is here to tell me he knows who has been sending me the gifts.

  I begin walking over, but stop as soon as I see what Angelica is cradling in her left arm—three bouquets of a dozen long-stemmed tea roses, my favorite flowers. The roses obscure Rocco’s face. I notice in Angelica’s right hand she holds three small gifts. The boxes look like jewelry boxes. They are stacked one on top of the other and are tied together with a beautiful pink ribbon. I take another look at the boxes and notice they are royal-blue velvet boxes—just like all the others I’ve received. My brain begins adding it all up. Could Rocco be my secret admirer?

  “Angelica, it is all right. I will see Mr. Vecchio.”

  Angelica looks like she’s seen a ghost when she turns around.

  “Signorina Donata. I am so sorry. I tried telling Mr. Vecchio that you were not available.”

  “Don’t worry, Angelica. I will see him.” Rocco Vecchio looks pleased. “It is nice to see you again, Mr. Vecchio.”

  I extend my hand, and Rocco draws it to his lips, placing a light kiss on the back of my hand. Taking in Rocco’s appearance, I realize he looks different than he did on the day I was in his shop. I must have been too enamored of the exquisite jewelry to have noticed he is a very handsome man. He looks to be in his fifties and is in tremendous physical shape, as the long-sleeved, form-fitted polo shirt he wears demonstrates. The three buttons in his shirt are unbuttoned, revealing tanned skin. His hair is mostly gray with a few traces of black peeking through. He is dressed all in black.

  “Signorina Donata, I am sorry to drop in on you unexpectedly. But I did not have a phone number to call ahead.”

  I nod my head, waiting for him to continue. Angelica is staring at us.

  “You may go now, Angelica.”

  “These are for you.”

  Rocco steps forward and takes from Angelica the roses and wrapped boxes.

  “I’m sorry, Signorina Donata. I meant to give these to you.” Angelica’s earlier flustered state has returned.

  “Angelica, please bring us a few refreshments. Espresso, Mr. Vecchio, or perhaps you would like something stronger—sambuca, whiskey?”

  “Espresso is fine, thank you.”

  Angelica nods her head and quickly scampers away.

  “Please come in, Mr. Vecchio.”

  I turn my back on Rocco as I lead him toward the library. Placing one foot carefully in front of the other, I do my catwalk, sashaying my hips so that they swing violently from east to west. Naturally, I feel Rocco’s eyes on me as they follow the length of my body from my head down to my derrière and on to my legs. A sharp twinge of pain shoots up my spine. My aging body is no longer accustomed to walking so provocatively, but I continue the strut. I cannot help but feel like a newly crowned beauty queen with my bouquets and gifts.

  Placing the roses on the grand piano, I reach for the Waterford vase that sits on one of Giuliana’s bookshelves.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Vecchio, while I fill this vase with water for your gorgeous roses. Tea roses are my favorite. But you knew that already, of course.”

  I flash my most seductive smile at Mr. Vecchio. He smiles slightly, but does not meet my gaze.

  “I make it my job to know everything about a woman I admire.”

  I remain silent. Usually, I am a master at repartee, but he has managed to leave me speechless.

  As I walk back toward the foyer, I feel his eyes on me once again. Suddenly, I realize I am no longer sashaying, but it is too late to transform my gait. Keeping my posture as erect as possible, I do my best to act nonchalantly while I exit the library.

  Angelica almost crashes into me with the tray of espresso.

  “Mi scusi, Signorina Donata!”

  “Angelica! How many times do I need to remind you to calm down? Stop hurrying all over the place. You almost spilled all of that espresso onto my ivory dress,” I whisper sternly to Angelica.

  “I’m sorry. I did not want to keep you and Mr. Vecchio waiting long.”

  Angelica’s eyes fill with tears. I am surprised this is the first time I have seen her come close to crying. Usually, she bears the brunt of my reprimands staunchly. Well, other than her extreme agitation.

  “Grazie, Angelica. I will take the tray. Just please fill this vase with water. I forgot to take the roses to trim them. They are on the piano. Take them with you to the kitchen and trim them for me. And please do not return to the library until after Mr. Vecchio leaves. I need to talk privately with him.”

  Angelica’s brows rise at this last bit of information, but she knows better than to inquire. I can tell she is like most other household staff—nosy. But she is too smart, or rather afraid, to overstep her boundaries by asking personal questions.

  “Thank you, Signorina Donata. I will make the roses look beautiful.”

  I smile. “I am sure you will.”

  My reassuring words do the trick, as Angelica appears relieved that she has averted one of my full-blown tirades. She walks hurriedly away until I call out to her.

  “Angelica! Slow down! Remember what I said.”

  “Si, si, signora.”

  Angelica slows her pace, but I can tell it takes much effort to keep from running. She nods toward Rocco as she enters the library to retrieve the roses and then scrambles away. She cannot help herself. Everything she does is fast. It goes with her anxious nature. I decide to ignore her error in calling me “signora.” I have more important matters to attend to.

  “Ecco! Here is the espresso. Do you speak Italian, Mr. Vecchio?”

  “Please, call me Rocco.”

  “I am sorry, but I cannot do that. I hardly know you.”

  Pouring espresso into our cups, I notice that Mr. Vecchio looks disappointed by my refusal to call him by his Christian name.

  “That is true. I hope you do not mind if I call you ‘Francesca’?”

  I wait before answering. A confident woman never immediately gives a man what he is asking for, even when it is a mere answer to a question. He taps his foot lightly on the floor.

  “Well, I suppose you may call me ‘Francesca’ since it seems you already know me quite well?” I shoot a mischievous grin in his direction.

  “Only what I have read about, and of course, I cannot trust what has been written about you to be the entire truth.” He meets my stare dead-on.

  “You are a wise man, Mr. Vecchio.”

  “I take it my gifts have been to your satisfaction, Francesca.”

  I am a bit surprised he has decided to acknowledge so soon that he is my secret admirer. But I can tell Rocco is no fool, and he has chosen not to waste any more time by playing games. I like that. Of course, I will not reveal this to him.

  “They were beautiful. Thank you. My love for jewelry is not a secret to the world.”

&
nbsp; “A woman who does not appreciate fine jewelry is not a real woman—at least in my eyes.”

  Hmmm. He is a traditional man. I remain silent, sipping my espresso, and keeping my expression unreadable.

  “So tell me, Francesca, which was your favorite piece?”

  Rocco leans forward so that he is sitting at the edge of the settee. I chose to sit in the chair opposite the settee, but I’ve stretched out my legs, which are crossed, as far toward him as possible. Naturally, Rocco cannot resist staring at them.

  “What makes you so certain any of them were my favorite?” I cock my eyebrow.

  “Ha! You are just as I imagined you would be.” Rocco laughs, which irritates me along with his comment.

  “And how is that, Mr. Vecchio?” Placing my cup down on the coffee table, I cross my arms across my chest. Rocco picks up on my defensive stance and suddenly looks worried.

  “Strong. Confident. Dazzling.”

  He leans back on the settee, and now he crosses his arms across his chest. He is smiling in the most devilish way, which only makes him more appealing. Disgraziato! I mentally curse him. He is not only handsome and charming, but also very cunning. Rocco is ready for the fight if I give him one. I have never met a man who could match me. Then again, I am only beginning. As I am about to tell him I must go, he stands up and suddenly excuses himself, beating me at my own game.

  “Please forgive me, but I have another appointment.”

  I have angered him.

  “But I have not even opened your gifts.”

  “I am sure you will love them. Of course, if you don’t like them, or even the earlier pieces you received, Castello Jewelry has a return policy—now that you know where they came from, signorina .”

  Rocco’s emphasis on “signorina” is unmistakable. He is smirking and does not even attempt to hide it. My pulse is absolutely racing with fury. He is taking pleasure out of this all. I will not let him win.

  “Thank you, Mr. Vecchio. That is most kind of you. Yes, there were a couple of pieces that really did not suit my tastes. I would not want them to sit in my drawer when another woman could be enjoying them.”

  Rocco looks crestfallen. But he immediately recovers.

  “Your satisfaction is what I aim for. Please do not hesitate to come into my store and exchange any of the jewelry.”

  I walk toward the foyer. This time I do not feel Rocco’s gaze lingering on me. I can feel the tension in the air now.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me unexpectedly. I do hope you like the gifts you have received today, at least. Arrivederci, signorina .”

  Rocco picks up my hand and kisses it. He is now smiling and seems to have forgotten his disappointment over my claim that I did not find his jewelry to my liking. But he is still choosing to refrain from calling me “Francesca.” I should feel victorious that I am in control once again, but I do not. What is wrong with me? Surely, old age is dulling my senses.

  “Buongiorno, Mr. Vecchio.”

  I stand behind the open door to conceal myself from the paparazzi and onlookers outside. Edgardo is standing guard outside the door and quickly grabs the door handle and pulls it shut, even though Rocco was attempting to wave good-bye to me. I walk over to the library window, which faces the street. Edgardo is looking at Rocco as he descends the steps. He is scowling. Edgardo must have seen him arrive with the gifts and knows now that Rocco is my secret admirer.

  Will I see Rocco again after the way I treated him? Or have my games pushed him away? I am a stupid, proud woman who never learns from her past mistakes.

  Sighing, I walk over to the piano and pick up the three jewelry boxes Rocco gave me. I open the first one. Once again, Rocco has managed to make me gasp, but this time, it is not because the piece is so breathtaking, but because it is the gold-filigree bracelet I was admiring as I was leaving Castello Jewelry the other day. Rocco must have noticed me staring longingly at it and decided this would be my next gift. I inspect its engravings and see it is eighteen karats and says “Italy,” which does not surprise me. Rocco seems a man of good taste, and the jewelry I saw in his shop did seem like the best quality. Also, this bracelet reminds me of a necklace I own that was purchased in Firenze. I can wear the two as a complement to each other.

  Removing the bow from the second box, I cannot help but feel giddy. I will never tire of receiving jewelry, especially when it is as gorgeous as what Rocco has given me. With a bit of shame, I remember my lie of telling him a couple of pieces were not to my satisfaction. I suppose I must carry through with the game now and return two of the gifts. But I simply cannot! I love them all too much and cannot bear the thought of parting with them.

  Lifting the lid slowly to prolong the surprise, I want to cry when I see the pair of gold teardrop earrings. Like the bracelet, they are yellow gold. The last gift must also be yellow gold. Wasting no more time, I quickly open the third box.

  “Incredibile!” I all but shout.

  How does Rocco Vecchio manage to astound me with every gift he has given me? In a departure from the other presents, this is not jewelry but rather a jeweled hair comb. The stones are diamonds without a doubt, and the comb’s prongs are eighteen-karat platinum gold, which one can tell just from seeing the metal’s high gleam. But I still inspect the engraving to be certain it is eighteen karats.

  Walking over to the mirror that hangs in the foyer, I sweep up and to the side my hair and fasten the comb. Exquisite! Shutting my eyes, I remember again how I treated Rocco before he left.

  “Sei pazza!” I whisper to myself.

  This man thinks the world of me and has showered me with numerous expensive pieces of jewelry. And how do I thank him? By cutting him down and telling him that a few of the gifts did not meet my standards. I shake my head in disgust. I must make this right. But it is hard for me to apologize to a man—or to anyone for that matter. Well, there was one man whom I had no trouble apologizing to; I showed him the real person I am or rather was. But that woman died a long time ago.

  I will stop by Castello Jewelry and thank Rocco again for the new gifts and tell him I do like all of the pieces. He will think I am crazy. I cannot do that. Perhaps I should just phone him? I will not make mention of the jewelry I had told him was unsatisfactory. He will know in time I did like the pieces when he sees that I have not gone to exchange them. Yes! That is best. I walk over to the phone on the table in the foyer. But my hand freezes once it rests upon the receiver. Francesca Donata has never called a man first and especially not so soon after becoming acquainted. But I need to give him a sign of encouragement. Ah! I will merely send him a thank-you note. Si, si. That is what I will do!

  The doorbell rings, startling me. Could it be Rocco again? No, he is not the desperate type. He has too much class to come groveling back to me after the way I dismissed him earlier. I glance at the grandfather clock in the corner. Ten-thirty a.m. My interview! How could I have forgotten? I had called Miss Santore and asked her to come back for a second interview, but I made it for later in the morning since Giuliana’s doctor was coming at eight o’clock. I wanted to talk to him to see if Giuliana’s condition is improving. Unfortunately, he said she is the same. She has not gotten better or worse, which I suppose is some consolation. The doorbell rings a second time. What is the matter with these maids? If they were under my employ, they would be better trained.

  “Angelica! Carlo! C’è qualcuno alla porta!”

  Carlo comes rushing into the foyer, but stops short upon seeing me with the most exasperated look, as if to say, “Why are you not answering the door if you are so close to it?”

  Hmmm! I suppose when Giuliana was feeling better, she answered her own door.

  I walk up the stairs. The Profile girl can wait. She deserves it after breaking the rules and asking me a few of her own questions the last time we met. She is lucky I even invited her back.

  As I reach the top of the stairs, I hear Pia greet Carlo. She is asking him how he is. Carlo responds, but I cannot hear
him. I hear Pia laugh. They continue chatting as he leads her into the library. Mentally, I roll my eyes. I cannot even imagine what she finds to talk about with the household staff.

  Deciding to get some fresh air, I quickly change my clothes. Edgardo had pointed out an Italian restaurant to me the day we were driving to the jewelry stores on Ditmars. He told me it was one of the best restaurants in Astoria, and they had received nothing but the best reviews. Trattoria L’incontro. I remember the name because I thought it was the perfect name for a restaurant. I will take the Profile girl with me. We can conduct our interview at the restaurant. Maybe eating will keep her preoccupied so that she will have no choice but to ask me the questions from the list I approved. This will also give me the chance to go out. I cannot stay indoors another day.

  I pick up the phone and dial down to the kitchen. I wait several rings until Angelica finally answers.

  “Angelica, please make lunch reservations for me right away at Trattoria L’incontro. I will need the reservation for eleven a.m. Make them for five people, and tell them I will need the VIP room. Please ask them to be discreet. Make the reservations under your name, but you can tell them they are really for me. Explain to them that I will have my bodyguards with me, and they will need to inspect the restaurant and room before I enter.”

  “I don’t think they have a VIP room, Signorina Donata. There is a party room to the back of the restaurant, which also has a separate entrance. Also, they open up for lunch at noon.”

  “Tell them I must arrive earlier. I am sure they can accommodate me. As for the party room, that is fine. I just cannot be in the same dining room as the rest of the patrons. I must not be disturbed. I am having my interview there today. Please explain to them it is a business lunch, and no one is to disturb me. None of the other diners or the restaurant employees must bother me for autographs.”

  “As you wish, Signorina Donata.”

  “Grazie, Angelica.”

  Now I must tell Edgardo that I am planning another last-minute trip outdoors. He will be furious, as usual.

  An hour later, we are seated at Trattoria L’incontro. I did not bother this time disguising myself though Edgardo wanted me to. Everyone knows I am in town, and what is the point of having bodyguards if they do not perform their jobs? They can keep fans away from me if the fans approach me. I chose to wear a midnight-blue Chanel suit dress, deciding to keep my wardrobe simple so that the diamond jeweled hair comb Rocco gave me stands out even more. The comb is so stunning that I do not need any other jewelry. But I always wear a ring, and I decided to wear a five-carat diamond ring I purchased for myself after my first movie became a hit.