Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  “Mamma mia, cara mia, you look—”

  “Underdressed.” She clamped her bottom lip between her teeth, skewing her mouth.

  “What? No…”

  Jayne shook her head. “I do. You’re all spiffy in your tuxedo and bowtie, and here I am dressed smart-casual. I had no idea this was a black-tie event.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Really?” She scanned his length—down, then up. “Unfortunately, this is about the smartest outfit I packed.”

  She wasn’t listening to him.

  He gripped her shoulders to capture her attention, the delicate lace beneath his fingers causing him to swallow hard. He tipped her face and gazed down at her. “Jayne, darling, you look perfect. Beautiful. And besides, I’m certain not everyone will dress up. Come, let’s go.”

  She nodded.

  As they stepped out of her room, sounds of laughter drifted down the staircase.

  Rafaele smiled at Jayne. “Seems like the party is about to begin.”

  Up ahead, his sisters and Piero emerged, each carrying a small gift bag. Spotting Rafaele and Jayne, they waited.

  A sick feeling rose in Rafaele’s stomach. So much for not everyone dressing up. Also wearing a black tux as Rafaele had expected, Piero was strong competition. Sienna looked elegant as always in her long, black evening gown, the touches of lace around her arms and neck adding that extra femininity. And Alessa… What on earth was his little sister doing in an outfit like that?

  “Alessandra!” He only ever used her full name when he disapproved of something. She hated it. He on the other hand couldn’t bear for anyone to shorten his name. “I hope you don’t run around the streets of Roma dressed like that.”

  The gold sequins of the sleeveless micro-mini cocktail dress Alessa wore shimmered as she hurried toward them, balancing like a tightrope artist on her lace-up stilettos. One thing he couldn’t fault her on—she did have the legs and figure to pull off an outfit like that.

  “What exactly is wrong with this, big brother?” She stuck out her hand to Jayne. “Hello, I’m Alessa—the baby sister. And I’m so sorry about upsetting you earlier. It wasn’t you—”

  Jayne shook her head. “It’s all right. Rafaele explained everything. I hope I didn’t get you into too much trouble from big brother here.” She jabbed Rafaele in the side and grinned.

  “Oh, I can handle him.” Alessa laughed then threw her arms around Jayne’s neck, the gift bag she clung to dangling beside Jayne’s back. “I’m so happy to finally meet my brother’s mystery woman.”

  Rafaele rushed to grip the hem of Alessa’s dress to ensure it didn’t creep up any higher and show off whatever she wore beneath that shimmery fabric.

  Releasing Jayne as quickly as she had hugged her, Alessa whirled toward Rafaele. His hand fell away from the sequins. She poked his chest. “I’ll have you know, this dress happens to be Mammà’s. If Papà thought it was good enough for her to wear, why are you objecting?”

  Because you look far too appealing in it, sorellina, and I worry about you all alone in Roma, especially if you’re going out at night looking like this. Besides, who said their papà didn’t object. The father he’d known certainly would have. Perhaps the dress was something their mother had worn prior to meeting their father. Something from her modelling days before becoming Mrs. Massimo Rossi.

  “How do you know this was Mammà’s dress?” Rafaele asked.

  “Nonna told me. After Papà’s funeral, I retreated to the attic to…be alone. I found the dress in a box and asked Nonna about it. I begged her to let me have it until finally she said yes. Don’t you think it’s the perfect thing to wear tonight to honor our mammà?”

  Not really. Oh, the dress was perfect all right…just not on his little sister. Or his mother.

  “Rafaele, Rafaele, stop being such an overprotective big brother,” Piero said, his tone placating. He sauntered closer, leaving Sienna looking on. “Alessa looks stunning. She could stroll the catwalks of the world for my Nikon anytime.”

  He lifted the camera dangling from his left shoulder, and snapped a shot of Alessa, as if to prove his point. “It’s not my usual work camera, but it’ll still give good quality pics for tonight.” He eyed through the lens and snapped another.

  Taking full advantage of the situation, Alessa posed for Piero before the grin she’d shot for his camera quickly segued into a smug smile for Rafaele. “Thank you, cuz. At least someone appreciates good, timeless fashion.”

  Piero eased closer to Jayne. “I’m Piero, by the way. One of the American cousins.” He leaned forward to kiss Jayne’s left cheek. Then the right. Rafaele might need to have a little chat with his cousin if he chose to make any more moves on his girl.

  Leaning back with an approving stare, Piero snapped a photo of Jayne. He turned to Alessa. “I hear music. Shall we go?” He held out his arm, and Alessa hurried to hook her hand around his elbow.

  As they strolled back to Sienna, Alessa pulled her long flaming tresses over her shoulder, the deep V on the back of her dress exposing far too much skin. She swayed her hips perhaps a little more than was necessary. Sometimes she could be so volatile. He didn’t know whether to blame the red hair or the fact that he’d indulged her all her life.

  Jayne huffed out a sigh. “Well, so much for not everyone being dressed to the nines.”

  Rafaele groaned inwardly at her observation. He could only hope that Ric would stay true to form and dress ultra-casual, proving him correct.

  He smiled. “You haven’t met my brother yet.”

  “So there’s still hope for me not to look too much like a fish out of water?”

  “Cara mia, the only fish out of water you could ever look like would be a beautiful mermaid.”

  Jayne chuckled into her hand. “Smooth.”

  Entwining his fingers with hers, Rafaele took a step then stopped as Jayne hesitated.

  She sucked in a breath. “Your grandmother’s gift. Should I take it now?”

  “Probably best you do.” He didn’t want to let her out of his sight tonight. Never knew what chances Piero would take if she were alone.

  Holding tightly on to Rafaele’s arm, Jayne entered the dining room. Tonight the table glistened with the finest polished silverware, and in the center a large bouquet of mixed flowers had been carefully arranged in a crystal vase.

  Rafaele soon introduced her to his other two cousins from the States. Thankfully both were dressed in less formal duds than their brother, Piero. Although in a classic black suit and white shirt, Marco’s choice not to wear a tie created more of a casual look to his attire—just as Nick’s brightly colored tie against his white-and-navy pinstripe shirt did. Already she felt a little less self-conscious about her clothes.

  Jayne eyed her larger gift-wrapped painting lying beside the three small gift bags on the gift table in a corner of the dining room. She should have gotten something far smaller.

  Oh well, too late now. It is what it is.

  Wrong. Just like my outfit.

  The room buzzed with chatter. And still two more were to arrive. No, three. Isabella, Ric, and the cousin they were all waiting to meet—Rachel. At least Jayne would have someone else here tonight who would probably feel as overwhelmed by this loud family as she, even though she did love it. She’d always dreamed of having a cadre of siblings and cousins, but she was an only child—just like her mother and father. When her father passed away, she would be the only one left in her family. She prayed that wouldn’t happen for many, many years.

  Seeing Rafaele’s lips moving, but not quite hearing what he was saying, Jayne leaned in closer. She laughed. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you above the music and talking.”

  He met her halfway and chuckled in her ear. “I must apologize for my loud family. I asked if you would like something to drink.”

  “Just a glass of water. Sparkling.” She’d noticed a bottle on the table. At least the tiny bubbles would make her glass look a little more interesting
. She was definitely staying far away from the wine tonight.

  Rafaele raised a hand and snapped his fingers. In an instant, a waiter dressed in black appeared at their sides bearing a tray of those tasty appetizers she’d already sampled.

  “Two sparking waters, per favore,” Rafaele said, taking two snacks and handing one to Jayne.

  Jayne bit into the thin slice of lightly toasted bread and spread. “Mmm, these are so good.”

  “Crostini di fegato. Toast with chicken liver pâté. Very traditional in Tuscany for a celebratory meal. And it’s good for you.”

  Wouldn’t be good for her waistline if she ate too many of them. But they were so tasty with their rich, rustic flavor.

  The waiter had no sooner turned to do Rafaele’s bidding when a hush descended as Ric and Isabella entered. As they stepped into the room, the band began to play. “The Eye Of The Tiger”? A strange choice of music, especially for this band, but they managed the piece well. Ric laughed the whole way through, shaking his head and pointing at Rafaele. The rest of Rafaele’s siblings and cousins laughed too. Isabella merely smiled, the private joke as lost on her as it was on Jayne. Jayne would have to ask Rafaele later what that had all been about.

  For an eighty-year-old, Isabella looked elegant in the pale-blue-and-taupe, long-sleeved brocade evening dress. A double strand of pearls adorned her neck, matching the single-pearl studs adorning her ears. Someone had set her hair beautifully, and there was a touch of color to her lips and cheeks that Jayne hadn’t seen the other night. The matriarch of this family reminded her a little of the queen, and Jayne had to catch herself before she curtsied.

  As soon as the music ended, a cheer went up from the seven cousins, reminding Jayne she wasn’t standing outside Buckingham Palace. Shouts of “Nonna! Bellissima! Buon compleanno! Happy birthday!” came from all sides of the room.

  Isabella smiled wide and nodded. “Grazie. Grazie. You are spoiling me too much.”

  Turning her attention to Ric, Jayne noticed the unfastened top button of his white shirt that the loosely knotted black tie failed to hide. When her gaze drifted down to his ripped black jeans and Doc Martins, she struggled to hold her smile at bay. Rafaele was right—not everyone would dress up tonight.

  “I told you, didn’t I?” A soft chuckle followed Rafaele’s whisper.

  Ric walked Isabella to the middle of the table and the setting that had her name on the place tag. Such a nice touch to the décor. He pulled out a chair for her. “Sit, Nonna.”

  Isabella did as Ric asked.

  He poured her a glass of sparkling water and made sure to get her a side plate of those crostini things.

  Nonna patted Ric’s cheek as he set the plate down in front of her. “You are a good boy, Riccardo Rossi. Grazie.”

  “Prego, Nonna.”

  Prego? Rather a casual meal choice for such a formal affair.

  Jayne stretched to whisper in Rafaele’s ear. “What did your brother mean by prego?”

  “That’s Italian for you’re welcome.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Oh.” Good thing she hadn’t embarrassed herself by announcing to Rafaele that she knew what they were eating tonight. Then, who knew whether the thin Portuguese steak was on the menu. Seemed anything was possible tonight.

  Ric stepped away from his grandmother and headed toward Rafaele and Jayne. “You must be Jayne,” he said.

  Jayne nodded.

  “Ric, what happened?” Rafaele’s mouth twitched with a smirk. “You catch your jeans on something on the way here? Maybe while rescuing someone from a burning building? And are those work boots you’re wearing?”

  “Funny, Rafaele. I did get your memo that said dress smart. I’ll have you know these shoes and jeans cost me two weeks’ wages.”

  “Seriously? I had no idea firefighters in the UK earned such a pittance.” Rafaele burst into a raucous laugh.

  Ric pretended to land one in Rafaele’s gut.

  “Well, I am grateful for your interpretation of smart, Ric.” Jayne smiled. “As you can see, I didn’t get the memo either.”

  “What? You look fantastic. I can see why my brother’s fallen for you.”

  Fallen for her? Dare she hope that’s what he’d told his siblings?

  “So where is the other mystery woman, Rafaele?” Ric glanced around the room. “Is our new, oldest cousin still coming, or did she chicken out?”

  “I think she’ll be here. I should probably go and check.” Rafaele placed Ric’s hand on Jayne’s arm. “Look after Jayne for a minute. And don’t let Piero anywhere near her.”

  Jayne’s heart skipped a beat. Was Rafaele jealous of his cousin? Would a little flirtation go a long way to spur Rafaele on to claiming her as his own?

  Maybe. But it could be a risky decision too. One she wasn’t sure she was willing to take.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE FRONT DOORS STILL STOOD wide open, just as Rafaele had left them after letting the band inside. He moved closer to the door; the runner on the floor and the chatter and music drifting from the dining room silencing his footsteps. No sign of Rachel—at the door, or walking up the drive. He glanced at his watch. Well, it had only just gone six p.m. Perhaps she’d misjudged how long it would take to walk. Should he get into his car and drive to Monticchiello?

  He stepped outside to ponder what the best course of action would be and froze. A petite, dark-haired woman dressed in a bright floral-patterned dress and flat shoes leaned against the wall beside the door, eyes closed. Her hands, clutched in front of her, held a small gift bag.

  Rachel.

  He slunk back inside. If Jayne felt underdressed in her outfit, how would poor Rachel feel? He shrugged out of his jacket then yanked off his bowtie, discarding both on a bench near the door. He undid the top two buttons of his shirt before stepping through the doorway again.

  “Rachel?”

  Her eyes flew open, and she shoved away from the wall. “I’m so sorry. Just catching my breath before knocking.”

  Or working up the nerve to knock. Poor thing. “I did warn you it was quite a walk.”

  “Rafaele?”

  He nodded and held out a hand to help her up the two steps. “Welcome to Villa Rossi. I’m so glad you came.” Something told him a hug or a kiss on the cheek would make her feel uncomfortable. Plenty of time for those once she felt a part of the family. Instead, in greeting, he simply clasped her hand in his for a brief moment longer. Wasn’t that the British thing to do?

  They stepped inside and he closed the doors behind them. He smiled at Rachel. “Are you ready? Everyone can’t wait to meet you.”

  She drew in a long breath and exhaled. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. Am I dressed okay?”

  “You look lovely. Everyone has dressed up or down as they wished.” Not exactly true, but hopefully it would set her more at ease. He’d asked his siblings and cousins to dress smart and deliberately chosen to avoid that request with Rachel, wanting nothing to put her off coming. “Ric, my brother, is in his ripped jeans, while my little sister, Alessa, is all decked out and sparkling like a disco ball.”

  Rachel laughed softly. Perhaps he’d managed to break some of the ice.

  Silence swallowed the noise in the dining room the moment Rafaele and Rachel entered. All heads turned toward them.

  “This is Rachel,” Rafaele announced. “Come, let me introduce you to everyone.”

  Rafaele was glad to see his cousins’ jackets already hanging on their designated chairs and Ric’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

  He headed to Nonna first.

  Nonna stared at Rachel, and her eyes moistened. Taking Rachel’s hands in her wrinkled ones, she whispered, “So like your father.”

  Rachel seemed taken aback. A few seconds passed before she responded. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Mrs. Rossi.”

  “Mrs. Rossi? It’s Nonna. Please.”

  Seemed all his pep talks with Nonna about acceptance had helped. But she did seem genuinely happy t
o meet her long-lost granddaughter.

  “I–I’ll try to remember.” Rachel smiled then glanced at Rafaele, her eyes begging him to intervene and rescue a difficult moment. She might be well aware that her grandmother had shunned her all these years. Would Nonna ever explain why?

  Compassion welling inside her, Jayne wished she could wrap Rachel in a hug. If she felt this overwhelmed right now, how much more so must Rachel be feeling? A stranger, illegitimate, cast aside for thirty-three years... Why had their grandmother kept her existence a secret from the family until now?

  Jayne smiled as Rafaele led his cousin toward her and Ric. Rachel could barely have said two words to her grandmother. An awkward moment from what Jayne had observed. Perhaps in time whatever wounds were there for both of them would heal. She’d make a point to pray for them every night.

  “Rachel, I’d like to introduce you to my brother, Ric. And this is Jayne Austin. They’re both from the UK, and no, Jayne is not a writer.” Rafaele grinned and slid his arm around Jayne.

  “Hello, Ric. Hello, Jayne.” Rachel’s gaze flicked to Jayne’s waist as Rafaele’s hand cupped her hip. “Are you two together?”

  Were they?

  Jayne opened her mouth to answer. Just then Piero stepped past Ric.

  “Rachel, hi. I’m Piero, one of your twin cousins.” He kissed Rachel on the cheek, and then the other cheek, and her eyes widened.

  Ric laughed. “Piero’s the handsome one.”

  “I heard that,” Nick said from a few feet away.

  Rachel’s gaze oscillated between Piero and Nick. “You’re twins? You don’t look at all alike.”

  “I think our parents were happy about that. Made it easier for them to tell us apart,” Nick said.

  She nodded then turned her attention back to Rafaele and Jayne. “So, you didn’t answer my question.”

  Rafaele pulled Jayne closer to him. “Yes, we’re together.”

  And right then Jayne decided that even the slightest flirtation with Piero was out of the question. And totally unnecessary.