"The American is very pretty," the gondolier replied in the same language.
"She is a married woman," the contessa replied.
"I like a woman with experience," he said with a grin.
"Behave yourself, you bad boy," the contessa scolded him. She turned to Ashley. "Are the columns flanking the piazza not glorious? That one is topped by the winged lion of Saint Mark, the spiritual guardian of Venice. The other is crowned with Saint Theodore, who was once considered our spiritual guardian. Long ago they hanged criminals from those columns, a poor use of such beauty to pair it with such ugliness as an execution."
The two women made their way across the piazza through large flocks of pigeons strutting about, cadging for food, and toward the great domed cathedral of Saint Mark.
"There have always been great festivals held in the piazza and before the cathedral," the contessa said. "The Fourth Crusade set out from here."
They entered the basilica of Saint Mark, and Ashley was rendered breathless by its beauty. "There is something very Eastern here," she said.
You are clever to have realized that," the contessa said. "Byzantium was very Oriental in its way, and Venice has traded with the Eastern lands for centuries. One of our doges asked that every ship trading with Egypt, Syria, Turkey, and the like return with objets d'art that could be used to beautify our city. The lion of St. Mark's, with his agate eyes, came from Syria. It is actually a chimera. And see the screen behind the high altar? We call it the Pala d'Oro. It was beaten into its great form by goldsmiths in Byzantium, and beautifully decorated by the finest jewelers in Byzantium. It seems to radiate light, doesn't it?" the contessa said.
After they had seen the great church, the contessa pointed out the Doge's Palace, which stood on one side of the piazza. Next the contessa led Ashley from the great piazza across a stone bridge into a charming small square. The square had several tiny shops, and a little cafe with tables outside beneath a striped awning. It was there they stopped to have a light lunch before walking back to their gondola to return to the palazzo for the siesta hour.
"Tomorrow at eleven," the contessa told the gondolier.
Ashley thanked the contessa for the morning, and went to see how Ryan was doing. She found him sitting with the workmen eating bread, sausage, and cheese, and sharing a bottle of Chianti. A huge half-finished crate was now taking up part of the salon, empty of furniture but for the wardrobe. "Wow, you got a lot done this morning," she said. "You should get it finished by day's end."
"Almost finished," he told her. "Remember, siesta. The men will eat, and then stretch out to sleep for an hour or more. Did you have a good morning?"
"Wonderful, starting with breakfast in bed," Ashley told him. "I could get used to this Venetian way of life, Ryan."
"Are you going upstairs now?"
"Uh-huh. Are you?" she teased him.
He sighed. "I'll take my siesta here," he said. "That way I'll be ready to go back to work when the men are. I want the crate finished by tomorrow morning. It's going to take another full day to pack it, and then I want to be here when FedEx picks it up the day after. Then we'll head home, baby."
"I'll go take my siesta alone then," she said with a smile at him, and with a wave of her hand she left him.
"Sposato?" one of the workmen asked.
"Si," Ryan replied.
"Ella e bella ragazza," the workman said, nodding approvingly.
"Mille grazie," Ryan told him with a smile.
The following day the contessa took Ashley to see the great church of San Giorgio Maggiore, and they visited the public gardens, a swath of green on the Bacino di San Marco. But then to Ashley's surprise the gondola headed back up the Grand Canal, bypassing the little canal that led to the palazzo.
"There is a woman I want you to visit," the contessa said with a smile as their vessel turned into a small canal and docked itself. "It is not far, and I see you are wise enough to wear sensible shoes."
Mystified, but nonetheless curious, Ashley followed her hostess into another of Venice's small, pretty squares, where Bianca led her into a charming little shop. Ashley's green eyes lit up when she saw the exquisite lingerie displayed.
"This is the shop of Valentina Sforza," the contessa explained. "She has a mulberry garden outside of the city where she raises silkworms. She has a coterie of village women who harvest the cocoons and then spin the threads into fabric. From that fabric she makes, as you can see, the most beautiful one-of-a-kind garments. I thought that perhaps you might be interested in her work."
Ashley was already examining the negligees and other intimate garments on display throughout the shop. They were beautiful, and the workmanship was the absolute best. "Yes," she said, suddenly all business. "I am most interested in this woman's work, Bianca. I should like to speak to her."
"As she does not speak English, and your Italian is charming, but scant, I will translate for you," the contessa said. "May I present to you Signora Valentina Sforza."
"Tell her I am delighted to meet her, and that never have I seen such exquisite work," Ashley replied.
Bianca spoke quickly to the dark-haired older woman who had been behind a counter since their arrival. The woman was dressed all in black. She chattered back to the contessa, who then said, "The signora thanks you. She wants to know if you wish to purchase something."
"Tell her I have three shops in the United States. We carry only the finest intimate garments for women. I want to know if she can supply me with her work."
Bianca spoke again. Signora Sforza spoke. The contessa then turned back to Ashley. "Signora Sforza says because her garments are handmade from her carefully raised silk, she is unable to supply in quantity like some factory."
Ashley smiled archly. The bargaining had begun. "Please tell Signora Sforza that I am not interested in quantity. I seek only quality. I would require six garments three times a year, to be delivered in November, January, and May. I will set up an account here in Venice with FedEx or DHL that will be my responsibility. Does she have a computer and e-mail?"
The contessa translated. "Yes, she has e-mail."
"Good," Ashley replied. "Then she will be able to communicate with me. My husband's Italian is good, and he can translate her messages to me, and tell me what to write to her. Now, can she deliver what I require?"
The contessa spoke. Signora Sforza spoke, and then Bianca turned to Ashley. "When would this arrangement begin?" she asked.
"I will, with her permission, pick out six garments today, and pay for them. She will prepare them for shipping, and I will send someone for them. I will expect the next six garments in January. Can she have them ready then?"
The contessa spoke earnestly to Signora Sforza. The conversation was longer than the previous ones had been, and Ashley wished she were able to understand. Finally the contessa said, "She wants to know where her creations will be sold."
"Tell her I have three shops, but her garments will be sold only in New York, where the rich and famous will clamor for them."
"She wants her label in them," the contessa said.
"Tell her no. I will pay whatever she asks within reason, but if her label is in the garment, people would know where they came from, and would trade with her directly. I must keep her exclusive to Lacy Nothings. If she prefers not to sell to me I will buy something for myself and let the matter go." Ashley turned away and began examining a nightgown. Her heart was hammering. She really wanted the signora's work, but she wasn't going to introduce it into the States, only to have Neiman Marcus steal the designer away from her. "You might tell her a large store will attempt to copy her work," Ashley said, "and then we will both lose."