by Jan Moran
As Ariana and Gia chatted, Ruby relaxed. Life was good, and she’d been through enough to appreciate it now.
When Ruby was a girl on the ranch, a life like this had existed only in her dreams. As she took inventory of her life, she thought not of what she’d accumulated, but of the people whose lives she had touched and improved. The promising young directors and writers who’d simply needed the right introduction or a check to start filming a great script. Her life as an actress had been a hard climb, but in retrospect, what mattered most were the people she could bring together. They were the pillars of her success.
All she wanted now was one more try. And this time, it was personal.
* * *
Later that day at the villa, as Ariana and Gia made their way from room to room, envisioning each one, a knock sounded on the door. Ruby excused herself to answer it.
A woman stood at the door. “Gia called and asked me to come. I am Livia.”
“Do come in,” Ruby said, opening the door wide. At first, with Livia’s dark-blue uniform and sensible shoes, Ruby thought the woman looked like she’d been sent from Central Casting. But when Livia took off her broad sun hat, she revealed a short crop of purple hair.
Ruby smiled. “I love your hair.”
“I’m also an artist,” Livia said shyly.
Ruby liked her better already.
Since Ariana and Gia were busy determining bedding and other necessities, Ruby showed Livia through the house before leading her to an attached caretaker’s cottage. The woman asked few questions, but she seemed efficient and ready to work. Ruby liked that. Gia had told her that the older man Livia worked for had passed away, and the home was up for sale.
“I can live here,” Livia said, glancing around. “And my husband. He will take care of the garden and bring fish from the lake, too.”
This arrangement might work out even better than Ruby had hoped. “Do you have children?”
“All grown and married. We have a cat. It’s okay?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’ll start now,” Livia said, patting her bag. “I have some supplies, and tomorrow I will bring more.”
Ruby discussed terms and rate of pay, and when they’d both agreed, Ruby handed her an extra key. “Welcome to Villa Fiori.”
Leaving Livia to her work, Ruby found a chair on the terrace to catch her breath. Taking in the view of the lake, she made a mental list of what she needed to do here, which had little to do with cleaning or furnishing the house.
A pair of small passerines—golden orioles marked with sunny yellow and inky black feathers—sang to her from a nearby tree while she relaxed. The little birds reminded her of when she and her sister would lay under the shade of a tree on a hot summer day on the ranch, watching the sparrows.
If only Patricia were here with her now. Although the two sisters hadn’t always agreed, Ruby had always known that she could count on Patricia.
Ruby sighed. She had been living a lie for most of her life now. If only her sister hadn’t left the final decision to her. The safety deposit key nestled in her purse could be a key to disaster.
The closer Ruby drew to her decision, the more nervous she became. As the orioles twittered their song against the rustling palm trees overhead, she considered her dilemma.
It wasn’t too late to change her mind. But could she live with that?
Chapter 9
Lago di Como, 2010
* * *
When Ariana stepped inside Villa Fiori, she couldn’t believe the transformation that had taken place over just a few days. As she walked through the house, she saw that the cobwebs and dust were gone, banished by the industrious Livia and her husband, Emilio.
She made her way into the kitchen. The musty smell that made Ariana feel so nauseated had been scrubbed away with a lemony scent, which was fresh and appealing. Ruby was arranging colorful, handmade ceramics decorated with fanciful swirls, lemons, and grapevines.
Since they’d arrived, Ruby seemed revived, as if she’d discovered an untapped reservoir of energy. Even the well-earned lines on her face seemed to have softened,
“Good morning,” Ariana said. “What beautiful pottery. Did you find that here?”
“Livia did.” Ruby pointed to an open door. “In the china closet. I can’t imagine how long all this was locked up. Decades perhaps.” She arranged a grouping of platters and jugs, which bore vibrant lemons and green leaves, in the center of a rustic wooden table worn smooth from years of use.
“This is majolica pottery,” Ruby said. “Regions produced different motifs. This lemon design is probably from Amalfi, which is known for growing the finest lemons.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork. Brushing her hands, she asked, “How are you and Gia doing?”
“Very well,” Ariana said, easing onto a stool. “I couldn’t have done this without her. It would have taken months to do what she did in a few days. She should be here soon because she said an early delivery is arriving today. I think she wants to take me to a factory of some sort, too.” She glanced around the kitchen.
“Livia wasted no time in stocking the refrigerator with fresh fruits and vegetables,” Ruby said. “What a treasure she is.”
Ariana opened the refrigerator and discovered a bunch of grapes. Bringing out the bowl, she placed it on the table to share with her aunt. She plopped a grape in her mouth, marveling at the flavor. “I still can’t believe I’m here. I was supposed to be on my honeymoon right now.”
“Life is full of interesting twists,” Ruby said. “Are you happy with your decision now?”
“So happy that I feel guilty. Was I misleading Phillip?”
“I don’t think so,” Ruby said. “You were just caught up in his plan rather than having your own.”
Ariana plucked another grape and thought about that. “Our relationship was convenient.” She’d never liked change. It had seemed more trouble to break up and date new people than to carry on with their relationship. “As I sat waiting for him at the church, I finally realized that my happiness would always be secondary to his.”
“Time to start fresh,” Ruby said, touching Ariana’s hand. “In many ways. Decide what you want to do and approach it with purpose.”
“You mean, as in my work?”
Ruby nodded. “Just because you loved it once, doesn’t mean you have to keep on with it. Maybe you’ve outgrown your position.”
“I’ve definitely outgrown my boss. Kingsley would go ballistic if he knew I’d called off the wedding and took a vacation instead.”
Ruby gave her an enigmatic smile. “You’re welcome to stay here and explore your options.”
The thought of that was intriguing, though far-fetched. “I can’t imagine that I won’t be on a plane back to L.A. at the end of the month.” Besides, she had to support herself. And soon, a new baby.
After landing her first job after college, Ariana had never asked for money from her mother or Ruby. Her mother would have lectured her on the importance of responsibility and self-reliance. As if self-reliance hadn’t been forced upon her when her mother had shipped her off to boarding school as a child.
Most people thought of boarding school students as privileged—and she was the first to agree that most were—but she’d been on a strict budget from her mother. Ariana had resorted to proofreading term papers and tutoring to earn extra money.
“You’re very talented, my dear,” Ruby said, plucking grapes from the bowl between them. “Maybe inspiration will strike here.”
Just then, Livia appeared at the doorway to the kitchen with Gia. “La signora to see you,” Livia said.
“Grazie, Livia,” Ariana said, sliding off the stool to greet her new friend. Gia was married with a little girl, but other than that, the two of them had much in common. And Gia’s sister Vera was a little older with three children of her own.
They chatted about the deliveries that were due today, and Ariana told Ruby that she’d briefed Livia the day before. Outs
ide, Emilio was busy tilling the soil to plant.
“The first delivery truck was pulling in behind me,” Gia said. “I have to make sure everything is placed where we discussed. And my car is full of sheets and towels.”
“I’m excited to see how everything looks,” Ariana said, following Gia from the kitchen.
Two men had already unloaded a rug for the main living area and were bringing in the sofas that Gia had suggested. The creamy colors were cool against the exterior view of the lake, and Ariana imagined how the cushions would look with pops of brightly colored pillows.
Next off the truck were lamps, and Ariana helped Gia place those throughout the house. Livia took the linens to wash, and soon everything was done.
“It’s still sparsely furnished,” Ariana said, looking around.
“It won’t seem like that once the plants arrive,” Gia said.
Ruby pushed open the doors to let the morning breeze in. “I like the airy spaciousness.”
Gia turned to Ruby. “Would you like to go to the silk factory with us? Vera reminded me of our connection and arranged a special visit for us. I thought Ariana would find it interesting.”
Ruby perked up. “What’s the name of it, dear?”
“Bellarosa. The company has been here for years. They supplied silk for one of the first homes I designed. I’d almost forgotten, but Vera remembered.”
“Ah, yes. You’ll find some beautiful pieces there,” Ruby said. “I have a little shopping to do, but you two go and have a wonderful time.”
Soon, Ariana and Gia were on their way, winding around the steep hillside on narrow roads that took Ariana’s breath away. She let out a little yelp as an oncoming car passed close on a curve.
“You’ll get used to the roads,” Gia said, expertly whipping the car around the bends in narrow lanes. “That wasn’t as close as it looked. I hope I’m not scaring you.”
“It’s okay,” Ariana said, hoping she wouldn’t become nauseous. “Ruby drives just like this.”
When they arrived at the silk factory, Ariana sighed with relief, glad that Gia was a good driver. She was a little queasy, but the feeling soon passed.
After they arrived, they walked toward the building, which to Ariana looked more like a villa with its tall windows and fragrant gardens. Gia spoke to a receptionist at the front, but Ariana’s high school Italian only allowed her to catch a few words. The woman directed them to a group of chairs and sofas, where they sat down to wait.
“If I were going to be here longer, I’d like to work on my Italian,” Ariana said.
“With your last name, I thought you might speak the language.”
“Ricci was my father’s name, and he didn’t stay around long enough to pass on anything.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Gia said. “Did your mother remarry?”
“She was too busy working even to date,” Ariana replied. “She’s an investment banker in New York.”
“I can’t imagine how difficult raising a child would be without my husband. He’s amazing with our little one.” Gia paused. “Your mother must be an incredible woman. That’s a demanding position, especially being on her own.”
Ariana hadn’t thought about it that way. “She’s…unique. As I grew older, I spent more time with Ruby, so I’m closer to her. My mom didn’t even plan to come to my wedding.”
“You’re married?”
Ariana sighed. “I left him at the altar. Actually, I’m relieved.” Even though I’m facing single motherhood, she thought.
Gia’s eyes widened. “You have courage. Like your mother and aunt.” She looked up. “Here’s Alessandro.”
Ariana followed her gaze. What struck her was not the man’s good looks, although, with his commanding height and hair that curled just beneath his ears, he certainly was attractive. Rather, it was the way he moved. Self-possessed, yet graceful—and in a thoroughly masculine way. He would have caught her eye anywhere.
The cut of his clothing was immaculate, too. A silk shirt—it had to be silk with that drape—was fitted trim to his torso, but not too tight, and his trousers sat just right on his hips. A thousand actors would kill for his physique, and she caught herself wondering what it would be like to design clothes for that body.
He greeted Gia by pressing his cheeks to hers as they exchanged a few words. He turned to Ariana, clasping her hand. “Ciao. Come stai?”
“Benissimo,” Ariana remembered to say. She’d understood a few words that Gia had said to him—she’d asked about his children. A glance at his ring finger confirmed it.
As Gia introduced them, Ariana pushed her thoughts aside. Undoubtedly, many women found him attractive, but he was married. Full stop.
When Gia told him that this was her first visit to Lake Como, Alessandro looked surprised. “Then I must give you a tour of our factory.”
Ariana started to protest, but the factory looked more like an artist’s haven than a place of commerce, and she was intrigued. People were chatting outside in the garden or walking around the property—devoid of the tension she saw on employees’ faces where she worked.
While she was sure that they had their share of concerns, the atmosphere was different. It seemed more conducive to creativity and work—unlike the constant stress and anxiety that circulated at the studio. Maybe it was the surroundings. Perhaps the serene waters of Lake Como—broken by the occasional water taxi or ferry—had a calming effect on people.
“My father’s family has been in silk production for almost three-hundred years,” Alessandro said. “In the 1500s, the Duke of Milan, Ludovico Sforza—Il Moro—had mulberry trees planted and bred silkworms. Did you know that silkworms are hungry little creatures that will eat almost anything, but they only produce silk cocoons when they eat the leaves of the mulberry tree?”
Although Alessandro must have given this lecture countless times, an expression of marvel and delight lit his face, and he pressed a hand to his heart. “This is a true miracle of nature. We are so privileged to carry on this tradition.”
While Ariana found the history interesting, it was Alessandro’s passionate delivery that intrigued her. She blurted out, “Do you really enjoy what you do?”
“But of course,” he replied, seemingly perplexed by her question. “We create beauty with natural materials. As with wine or perfume, a person can tell the moment they encounter authentic, high-quality silk. We’re proud of our heritage. Although Como no longer breeds or spins as much silk as before, we are experts in silk weaving and design.”
Looking into Alessandro’s eyes, Ariana could tell he was devoted to his craft. As he led them through the factory, where a brilliant array of silk yarn in every imaginable color on spools filled pegs, he explained that China now provided most of the raw material due to the labor-intensive process.
“We perform all the processes of warping and weaving in-house,” Alessandro said, pausing by an intricate loom. “This is one of our recently restored looms. My grandfather once used it.”
Gia cut in. “Ariana would like to see your designs. As I mentioned when I called, her aunt purchased Villa Fiori.”
“An exquisite jewel box with a superb location,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “If anyone has the style to resurrect Villa Fiori, it is Signora Raines. She has great personal style.”
Ariana smiled. Fans loved her aunt. “You’ve seen her films?”
“Oh, yes. And we had tea at the hotel a few weeks ago. Your aunt is a beautiful woman.”
Ariana and Gia traded looks. Her aunt had never mentioned having met Alessandro, and from the look on Gia’s face, she was fairly certain that Gia hadn’t known either. So how had they ended up here?
Vera. Gia’s sister had suggested it, Ariana recalled.
Alessandro was looking at her with interest. “We can make whatever you can imagine. We have about 100,000 designs in our archives. Would you like to see our design department?”
As Ariana followed him, she noted how people’s faces l
it up when he approached. “Ciao, ciao,” he said to employees. He paused to praise one woman on her work and to answer a question from another man. She was struck by how familial they all seemed, and she couldn’t imagine anyone at the studio treating Kingsley with such affection. Or anyone else in management.
Her work environment hadn’t always been that way, though. When she’d first started working at the company, creativity was the lingua franca, but since being acquired by a private equity firm, the entire management had shifted. Kingsley was one of the private-equity hires whose job was to focus on the bottom line and squeeze every ounce of profit from his departments.
Alessandro paused by one large room filled with hi-tech equipment. “Besides our designs, we can also take hand-drawn designs and digitize them for printing. We also print by hand for our most high-end clients. After printing, steaming fixes the ink to the fabric and enhances the color. Then, the fabric is washed, dried, and finished.”
The scent of dye permeated the air. As Ariana watched, bolts of white silk fabric were fed through machines that printed intricate designs. “The intensity of color after steaming is impressive,” she said.
Alessandro turned to her with a look of interest. “Your aunt told me about your costume work. Did you always want to do that?”
“No,” she blurted out. What was it about this man that made her speak without thinking? Yet that was the truth. “I studied fashion design because I love to create. I like to see people transformed by clothes they love to wear. Likewise, the right costume helps actors get into character. It’s been a lot of fun, but I miss designing for real people.”
Alessandro’s smile broadened. “Spoken like a true artist. We are alike in that way,” he said, his deep voice reverberating in his chest. “Come, I’ll show you more.”
His words and phrasing caressed her like the softest silk Ariana could imagine. She shot Gia a look, but Gia seemed unfazed. Was Ariana imagining things, or were all Italian men as smooth as Alessandro? Maybe this is why her aunt loved Italy. If anyone was addicted to adoration, it was her aunt. Or perhaps that’s the image she wanted to portray. After all these years, her aunt was still an enigma, often surprising her.