“I believe in blessings,” he replied, against my temple, “I believe that for every curse, there is a blessing.”
“Do you know where the cencio is?”
I felt his arms tighten. “I wish I did. I want it back just as much as you do.”
I looked up at him, trying to figure out if he was lying. “Why?”
“Because”-he met my suspicious stare with convincing calm-“wherever it is, it is meaningless without you.”
WHEN WE FINALLY strolled back to the car, our shadows were stretched out before us on the path, and there was a touch of evening in the air. Just as I began wondering if perhaps we were running late for Eva Maria’s party, Alessandro’s phone rang, and he let me put the glasses and the empty bottle back in the trunk, while he wandered away from the car, trying to explain our mysterious delay to his godmother.
Looking around for a safe place to put the glasses, I noticed a wooden wine case in the far corner of the trunk with the label Castello Salimbeni printed on the side. When I lifted the lid to peek inside, I saw that there were no wine bottles in the box, just wood shavings, and I suspected this was how Alessandro had transported the glasses and the Prosecco. Just to make sure that I could safely stick the glasses back in the box, I dug my hand into the wood shavings and rummaged around a bit. As I did so, I felt something hard against my fingertips, and when I pulled it out, I saw that it was an old box, about the size of a cigar case.
As I stood there, holding the box, I was suddenly back in the Bottini with Janice the day before, watching Alessandro take a similar box out of a safe in the tufa wall. Unable to resist the temptation, I pulled the lid off the box with the trembling urgency of the trespasser; it never even occurred to me that I already knew its contents. Only when I ran my fingers over it-the golden signet ring cushioned in blue velvet-did the truth come crashing down from above, pulverizing all my romantic musings for a second or two.
Because of the shock of discovering that we were, in fact, driving around with an object that had-directly or indirectly-killed a heck of a lot of people, I had barely managed to stuff everything back in the wine case before Alessandro stood next to me, the phone closed in his hand.
“What are you looking for?” he asked, his eyes narrow.
“My skin lotion,” I said lightly, unzipping my weekend bag. “The sun here is… murderous.”
As we drove on, I had a hard time calming myself. Not only had he broken into my room and lied to me about his name, but even now, after everything that had happened between us-the kisses, the confessions, the disclosure of family secrets-he was still not telling me the truth. Sure, he had told me some of the truth, and I had chosen to believe him, but I was not fooled into thinking that he had told me everything there was to know. He had even admitted as much by refusing to explain why he had entered my hotel room. Yes, he might have put a few token cards on the table for me to see, but he was clearly still holding the major part of his hand close to his chest.
And so, I suppose, was I.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a while. “You are very quiet.”
“I’m fine!” I wiped a drop of sweat from my nose and noticed that my hand was shaking. “Just hot.”
He gave my knee a squeeze. “You will feel much better once we get there. Eva Maria has a swimming pool.”
“Of course she does.” I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. My hand felt strangely numb, right where the old ring had touched my skin, and I discreetly wiped my fingers on my clothes. It was definitely not my style to give in to superstitious fears, and yet here they were, bouncing around in my belly like popcorn in a pot. Closing my eyes, I told myself that this was not the time for a panic attack, and that the tightness in my chest was nothing more than my brain trying to throw a monkey wrench into my happiness, the way it always did. But this time, I wouldn’t let it.
“I think what you need…” Alessandro slowed down to turn into a gravel driveway. “Cazzo!”
A monumental iron gate barred the way. Judging from his reaction, this was not how Eva Maria usually greeted her godson, and it took a diplomatic exchange with an intercom before the magic cave opened and we could start up a long driveway flanked by spiral cypresses. As soon as we were safely inside the property, the tall doors of the gate swung back to close effortlessly behind us, the click of the lock barely audible through the softly crunching gravel and birdsong of late afternoon.
EVA MARIA SALIMBENI lived in something very near a dream. Her majestic farmhouse-or rather, castello-was perched on a hill not far from the village of Castiglione, and fields and vineyards fell around the property to all sides, like the skirt of a maid sitting in a meadow. It was the sort of place one would come across in an unwieldy coffee-table book, but never actually manage to pin down in reality, and, as we approached the house, I silently congratulated myself on my decision to ignore all warnings and come.
Ever since Janice had told me that cousin Peppo suspected Eva Maria of being a mobster queen, I had been swinging back and forth between lip-biting worry and head-shaking disbelief, but now that I was finally here, in broad daylight, the whole idea seemed ridiculous. Surely, if Eva Maria was really pulling the strings of something shady, she would never host a party at her house and invite a stranger like me.
Even the threat of the evil signet ring seemed to fade as Castello Salimbeni rose ahead, and by the time we pulled up beside the central fountain, whatever worries might still be kicking around the pit of my stomach were soon drowned out by the turquoise water that fell in cascades from three cornucopias held high by nude nymphs astride marble griffins.
A catering van was parked in front of a side entrance, and two men in leather aprons were unloading boxes while Eva Maria stood by, hands clasped, overseeing the procedure. As soon as she caught sight of our car, she rushed towards us, waving excitedly, gesturing for us to park and make it snappy. “Benvenuti!” she chirped, coming towards us with open arms. “I am so happy you are both here!”
As always, Eva Maria’s exuberance left me too stumped to react in a normal way; all that went through my head was, If I can wear those pants when I’m her age, I’ll be beyond happy.
She kissed me vigorously, as if she had feared for my safety until this very moment, then turned towards Alessandro-her smile turning coy as they exchanged kisses-and wrapped her fingers around his biceps. “You have been a bad boy, I think! I was expecting you hours ago!”
“I thought,” he said, displaying no guilt whatsoever, “I would show Giulietta Rocca di Tentennano.”
“Oh no!” exclaimed Eva Maria, all but slapping him. “Not that terrible place! Poor Giulietta!” She turned towards me with an expression of the utmost sympathy. “I am sorry you had to see that ugly building. What did you think of it?”
“Actually,” I said, glancing at Alessandro, “I thought it was quite… idyllic.”
For some inexplicable reason, my answer pleased Eva Maria so much that she kissed me on the forehead before marching into the house ahead of us both. “This way!” She flagged us through a back door, into the kitchen, and around a gigantic table piled with food. “I hope you don’t mind, my dear, that we are going this way… Marcello! Dio Santo!” She threw up her hands at one of the caterers and said something that made him pick up the box he had just put down and place it very gently somewhere else. “I have to keep an eye on these people, they are hopeless!… Bless their hearts! And-oh! Sandro!”
“Pronto!”
“What are you doing?” Eva Maria shooed him impatiently. “Go get the bags! Giulietta will want her things!”
“But-” Alessandro was not too happy to leave me alone with his godmother, and his helpless expression almost made me laugh.