Rosa threw herself on the bed. "You know, Aunt Sophia, sometimes I have to pinch myself to believe it's all really happening. Two months ago I didn't know Emilio existed. He came to New York on business for Grandpa and we met-it was love at first sight, he proposed to me on our second date. It was so romantic." "Your mother must be very happy." Rosa sat up and gave a lopsided grin. "Are you asking me or telling me? You'd think it was Mama getting married, she's made such a fuss. She's even started telling me the facts of life, keeps bringing me books on the reproductive organs, checking that my periods are regular. In the end I said, 'Mama, I'm getting married, not going into labor.' "Just at that moment Teresa walked in. She pursed her lips. "Shouldn't you unpack, Rosa? You must take everything you want pressed down to Adina in the kitchen." Rosa jumped off the bed and winked at Sophia as she loped out of the room.
Teresa sighed and crossed to Sophia; they kissed. "She can never walk from a room, she's so clumsy. I hope you haven't made a dress with a long train; she'll trip over her feet." Sophia laughed and assured Teresa that the dress would be perfect.
"Can I see it?" Teresa asked. "Mama has decided that the women will spend the evening alone while the men go out. We can see the dress then." Teresa pushed her thick glasses back to the bridge of her thin nose. "You look very fit, slim as ever. Are the boys well? I hear they spend a lot of time here. How is Constantino?" "Well, very busy… And you?" Teresa ignored the question and continued.
"It's strange Don Roberto was not here to meet us. He usually is. Was he here when you arrived?" "No, just Mama." "She looks very well." "Yes, I thought so, too," "But then, you see her more often than we do." Teresa's shortsighted eyes flicked around the room, noting everything, the clothes on their hangers, the neat array of shoes. Sophia said,
"I expect you'll see more of Mama now that Rosa is marrying. Will she live at the villa?" Teresa smiled, unable to hide her pleasure. "Oh, I think so. Don Roberto treats him like a son." She was almost out of the door when she stopped and closed it. "It is not an arranged marriage. They are in love." "Yes, Rosa told me." Teresa had never been sure how many of the family knew the background to her own marriage. She had never known why the don had chosen her, but she had never argued. The first time she had set eyes on her handsome husband she had
Lwanted him more than anything else in her life, except to conceive a son. Rosa was her only child, but with the forthcoming marriage she was confident that she and Filippo would no longer have to feel like poor relations.
"We are on the top floor," Teresa complained. "It's inconvenient what with having to help Rosa dress. I would have thought we'd have the room below yours, the big guest room."
"Mama put the boys in there. We can keep an eye on them, hear them if they wake in the night."
"Yes, she told me. Well, I'll unpack, not that it'll take me long. I see you have brought a veritable wardrobe. Perhaps if my suit is not good enough, you could lend me something?"
"You are welcome to choose anything-"
Teresa interrupted her curtly. "Thank you, but I'm sure what I've brought will suffice." She left the room.
Next to arrive was Emilio Luciano, the groom, his young face bright pink with nerves. Constantino leaped down the stairs two at a time and clasped his nephew-to-be in his arms. Filippo, with shaving cream on his face and wearing only his trousers, appeared at the top of the stairs and then, amazingly, glided down the banisters to land in the hall. The children attempted to emulate him by sliding, belly down, on the polished wooden rail.
Amid the congratulations, the backslapping, the shouting and teasing, Graziella stood bursting with happiness. These were her boys, her sons, her grandsons. She seemed unaware of the mayhem, of the fact that Filippo wore only his trousers; she just clapped her hands, hunching her shoulders coyly when one or another of her boys paid her an outrageous compliment.
"Who is this young woman? Where's our mama, eh? You telling me this beauty is our mama? How come you don't age, huh?"
As Graziella gestured ineffectually for them all to go into the living room, Rosa hurtled into Emilio's arms. They kissed, to a round of applause. In mock desperation Graziella brought out a gong, as she had done when the boys were little. She banged it, hughing, and one by one they drifted in.
Graziella served espresso, and once they all were settled and the initial excitement was over, she made an excuse to get more coffee.
"I'll do that, Grandmama."
"No, no, Rosa, I have to check on supper."
Graziella crossed the hall, but instead of going toward the kitchen, she entered the dining room. Alone, she let out a long, deep sigh; the tension of having to hide her feelings had exhausted her. She pushed the shutters open slightly and checked her watch. He should have been home by now. He had said no later than five, and it was already past that. The florists, the builders and decorators had all gone, the family had arrived, and still, there was no sign of him. He always phoned if he was even fifteen minutes late. Why hadn't he called today of all days?
The telephone rang shrilly, and Graziella gasped with shock. She hurried into the hall as Adina replaced the phone.
"It was a message for you, signora. Don Roberto should be home in a few moments. He tried to get through earlier, but someone must have been using the telephone."
Graziella crossed herself. "Thank you, Adina. Make some fresh coffee, and check that all the extensions are unplugged. Leave only the phones in the hall and the study connected."
Adina nodded. Something was very wrong. She had felt it in her mistress days before the arrival of the family. But she dared not ask; she could only pretend she was unaware of it.
Graziella joined her family, sitting together in the cozy living room. Smiling, she passed around cakes and pastries.
"This is the first time we are all at home together, so that is what we celebrate tonight, the family."
Constantino became aware of his mother's frequent glances at the gold carriage clock on the big mantel. She kept a small smile on her face, but her eyes betrayed her nervousness.
"Are you worried about something?" he whispered, kissing her hand.
"Your papa is late. Next thing I know, dinner will be ruined."
Filippo, eating a slice of cake, asked loudly, "Mama, what's with the army of guards out front of the house?"
Graziella ignored the question. "If you all wish to change, bathe, then we must come to some arrangement about the hot water. Sophia, you want to go first, see to the boys?"
Don Roberto Luciano's two sons looked at each other.
Something was definitely wrong. Constantino gave Sophia a small nod of his head to take the boys out; putting her half-full cup down, she called them and immediately left the room.
Filippo looked hard at Teresa. She frowned, not understanding.
"Take Rosa up to finish unpacking, will you?"
It was not a request. Teresa put her cup down and beckoned to Rosa to go with her. Filippo closed the doors behind them while Graziella fussed with the tea tray.
"Papa w-w-worried about this trial, Mama?" asked Constantino.
Graziella nodded.
"The papers in New York were full of it," Filippo said. "Mama, you okay?"
Graziella was close to tears. She wanted to tell them there and then but could not bring herself to go against her husband's wishes. Constantino placed his hand on his brother's shoulder as a signal not to question her further.
"Maybe we should talk about this with Papa. Mama must have a lot of things to do before dinner."
With a grateful look, Graziella excused herself and left her sons together. Constantino walked slowly to the great stone fireplace and leaned against the mantel.