Bella Fortuna (15 page)

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Authors: Rosanna Chiofalo

BOOK: Bella Fortuna
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Ma spoke up. “He begged us not to tell you. He wanted to surprise you. Isn't it wonderful, Valentina? I know you've waited for this a very long time!”
She knew? I was a bigger fool than I thought. Of course she knew that I'd been harboring a secret crush on Michael all these years. How could she not? I was her daughter, after all, and like I've said before,
nothing
got past those eagle eyes.
“You're my family! You're supposed to be loyal to me, not to some guy you haven't seen in years!”
I was mad, probably madder than I should've been. But I couldn't help it. My emotions were jumbled. Michael! I still couldn't believe he was the one sending me those gifts. What kind of game was he playing with me now? Was he back? Ohhhh! The anger boiled in me. I didn't care. That guy had me running around in circles since he'd come to my rescue at Li's Grocery Store. And I was tired of it.
“Signora DeLuca, since your loyalty is to Mr. Carello, would you please do me the honor of telling him that I don't appreciate having the crap scared out of me?”
“Oh come on, Vee! You're actually mad at him? This is so romantic what he's done! The closest I've come to romance was receiving a bottle of nasty acai juice from that creep Victor.” Rita grimaced.
“Yeah, Vee! I know you can be uptight, but come on! Michael's finally into you!”
“Uptight? So that's what you think of me, Connie? Thank you! That's what you all think of me. To hell with all of you!”
I ran down the stairs.
“Valentina! Valentina!” Ma's screams went unheeded.
And just in case I hadn't made my point clear, I slammed the door behind me. I was about to dash across the street but stopped dead in my tracks when I looked up. Beady Eyes were at their usual post behind their tall black gate, holding on to the spires and just staring at me with their huge German shepherd, Gus. Even Gus was looking at me with the same penetrating stare his owners always seemed to possess, hence my family's nickname for them.
Beady Eyes were the sixty-ish couple who lived across the street from us, and whose house I dreamed of living in even though I'd never seen its interior. Something about it had that happy Brady Bunch quality to it. And what kid didn't want to live in the Brady Bunch house? Judging from the exterior with its pale lemon-colored door, shiny black gate, and large driveway that led to a spacious yard, which I was sure had to be bigger than ours, I was convinced their house was nice on the inside, too. Not that our house wasn't nice, but I just had a feeling theirs was nicer. Plus, they had a huge oak tree in front of their house. For this alone, I wished I lived at their house. I'd always wanted a tree to call my own.
It wasn't until I was nine that I learned what their real name was—Tom and Gladys Hoffman. Ma laughed at me when she heard that I'd thought “Beady Eyes” was their name. I
did
feel stupid. “Beady Eyes” was Ma's nickname for them because of their staring problem.
Whenever one of us came out of our house, there was Mr. Beady Eyes's entire 5'6" frame, standing behind his gate with his dark, sallow eyes. He looked like a prisoner on death row, waiting each excruciating hour until his execution.
Mrs. Beady Eyes was almost always in her housecoat, and her honey-blond hair was often set in rollers. When she smiled it was hard to tell since she pursed her lips so tightly together—even tighter than Hunchback Antoniella's lips. Whenever she “smiled,” you'd swear those were stitches and not age lines above her mouth, giving her more the appearance of The Bride of Frankenstein.
It took many years to say hi to them. They scared me when I was a kid. One day, Ma scolded me for not saying hello.
“Are they nice people?”
“Yes, Valentina. They are nice people. They just don't know that it makes others uncomfortable to keep looking at them the way they do. But you should always be respectful and say hello.”
The first time I said hi to them, I could tell it shocked them. Mr. Beady Eyes, who never even seemed to attempt a smile like his wife, actually smiled at me and said in a very proper manner, “Hello.”
But the staring never stopped.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Hoffman. How are you?”
“We're fine. Thank you. How are you?”
“Good, good. Thanks for asking.”
I nodded my head toward them and kept walking. Gus had even turned his head so he could keep staring at me as I walked by.
“Weird,” I whispered to myself. I still couldn't get used to them.
Seeing Beady Eyes did manage to slow my racing pulse and make me forget for a couple of minutes the drama that had played out at my house.
I had overreacted. Yes, it was romantic and thoughtful what Michael had done. Then why had it bothered me so much? I guess I was still hurt that I hadn't heard from him except for that postcard since he went to business school in Munich. I couldn't just let him think he could go back to our friendship being exactly the way it was, and I'd be all sweet about that. I wasn't that same kid anymore.
I walked by the bridal shop. This month the featured gown was a Justin Alexander knockoff. It sported a huge tulle ball gown skirt with a basque waist. The bodice was covered in lace embroidery that resembled vines. The vines stretched down to the left side of the mannequin's hip. It was stunning, and an excellent example of keeping a design modest without sacrificing elegance and beauty.
I looked over my shoulder to make sure my family hadn't come running after me. Quickly unlocking the shop, I entered. Keeping the lights off, I made my way to the back, using the light that was streaming in from the street lamps. This was a guilty pleasure of mine no one knew about. Whenever I was feeling down, I snuck in here at night and tried on a few dresses. Of course, Rita, Connie, and I had tried on dresses in the past in each other's presence. What girl working in a bridal dress boutique wouldn't? But this was different. Trying the dresses on alone made me feel even giddier than when my sisters and I donned them together. I would even practice how I'd walk down the aisle when it was my turn—if ever—to get married. The walk was very important.
Sometimes, if I were especially mad, like tonight, I'd go through as many as a dozen dresses. I usually tried the gowns I hadn't worn yet.
I first put on the Justin Alexander dress that was in our display window. The dress swallowed my petite frame even with the four-inch stilettos I slipped on. Next, I threw on a super-tight Monique L'huillier mermaid charmeuse gown in champagne. The dress was gathered to the side of the waist, creating dramatic shirring and emphasizing the curves of my hips and derriere. A large sparkly brooch adorned the fabric where it was gathered to the side. Another brooch was clipped to the bodice, throwing attention to the plunging neckline. I swept my hair to the side and fastened it with one of the jeweled hair combs we kept in our accessories case. I strutted around the boutique with my hands on my hips and swaying them in the most exaggerated manner from side to side, emulating models I'd seen on catwalks.
Going from princess to siren bride, it was now my turn for something different. I opted to be a super-modern bride, wearing a short, punky-looking taffeta dress that Connie had created. It was one of her designs and not a designer knockoff. Asymmetrical tulle peeked out from the hem, and a corseted lace bodice topped off the flirty dress. I wore a bird's nest on my head, and pulled the netting of the fifties retro hairpiece over my face.
I looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was well past ten. Ma would be worried. I changed into my street clothes and put everything carefully back as I'd found it. For the moment, I paused the video that was still playing in my mind of my one-woman fashion show.
As I locked the door of the shop, a shadow neared me. Before I had time to look up, I heard, “Isn't it past your bedtime?”
I jumped. My nerves were still jittery from thinking I'd had a stalker the past few weeks.
“Michael! Geez! You scared me!”
“Sorry! Didn't mean to do that. I know it's been a while. Do I look that bad?”
He gave me his trademark wink, but instead of its usual bone-melting effect on me, it angered me even more.
“When did you get back?”
“This morning. Other than the scare I gave you, you don't look that surprised to see me, Valentina.”
“My mind has been preoccupied. And it's late.”
“Are you okay? What's on your mind?”
“I've been receiving anonymous packages from someone the past few weeks, and it's been freaking me out a bit.”
“Really?” Michael was grinning. I wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. Instead, I decided to continue with my game.
“So, how have you been? How's Munich?”
“I've been well, thank you. Munich is great. You definitely have to go some time.”
I nodded my head.
“How are you?”
“I'm good. Like I said, my nerves have been on edge a bit.”
“Valentina, I should probably tell you that I just came from your house.”
The charade was up. He knew I was on to him. Couldn't my family ever keep quiet about anything? I felt the color rising in my face.
“Thank you for the gifts. That was nice of you. But I wish you had signed your name to them. You really did give me a scare.”
“I'm sorry, Vee. I never meant to do that. Honestly, I thought you would've picked up sooner that they were from me. I guess I was wrong.”
Michael's attention was diverted by the jingle of the Mister Softee truck, which had just pulled up at the corner. He looked hurt that I hadn't known he was the source of the gifts.
“I've been so busy at the shop. My memory isn't as good as it used to be. And I guess I'm surprised that you even remembered all of my favorite things.”
“Of course I remembered. Why wouldn't I?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“What's the matter, Valentina? I can tell something other than the gifts is bothering you.”
“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”
“What?”
“Why haven't I heard from you in almost a year? You only sent me that postcard from Germany shortly after you got there, and then that was it. I haven't even gotten one e-mail from you. I thought we were
friends
.” I drawled out the last word, shocking myself at how sarcastic I sounded.
A shadow passed over Michael's eyes.
“Come on, Michael. Didn't you think I'd be wondering why you dropped off the face of the earth?”
“I'm sorry. You have every right to be mad at me.”
“I'm not mad. I'm just . . . I don't know. Disappointed? But maybe I'm overreacting again, the way I overreacted with my family tonight. I know they must've told you about the argument we got into.”
“All they said was that you were very upset about the gifts. They didn't tell me you got into an argument with them.”
“Well, it was more one-sided. I was doing most of the yelling.”
“Sounds like you've inherited the infamous Olivia DeLuca temper.” Michael laughed.
“Please don't say that!” I was laughing now, too.
“I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to see that gorgeous smile again !”
Had I heard him right? He thought my smile was gorgeous?
“I'm sorry, Michael. I know you were busy in Munich with business school. I shouldn't have expected you to be constantly e-mailing and staying in touch with me. But it did seem odd.”
“Stop apologizing. I had a feeling you'd be upset. That's probably why I sent those gifts and didn't sign my name to them. Part of me was afraid if you knew they were from me, you might trash them!”
“So what happened? Why did you stop e-mailing? Is business school that demanding?”
“It was tough, but not that tough that I couldn't send you a quick e-mail. I took the easy way out, being so far away. I figured you were busy yourself, graduating from FIT, going to work at Sposa Rosa full time, that you probably wouldn't even notice much if I suddenly stopped e-mailing you.”
“You still haven't answered my question. I'm not going to let you off the hook that easy.” I gave him a stern look.
“There it is again. Olivia DeLuca is coming through in those eyes!”
I hit him on the arm. I'd never taken such liberties with him before. I was feeling more daring and confident. Even though it was just a swat of his arm, the contact tied my stomach into knots. I still had it bad for this guy.
“The truth is, Valentina, I was getting scared. And I took the cowardly road by not e-mailing you anymore.”

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