The Sicilian's Bride (10 page)

He turned off the main road and onto a long lane lined with cypress trees and ending at a magnificent white stucco house. It was like a travel poster with Come to Sicily written on it and it took her breath away. She’d never seen anything so beautiful and so inviting. The fragrance of heavy-laden orange and lemon trees filled the air. Late-afternoon shadows fell across the lane.

“Your house?” Why did she even ask? Of course it was.

“My family’s house. Very old and lived-in.”

“So they don’t know who I am?”

“I told my grandmother. She knows.”

I
T WAS
more than a house. It was an estate with gardens, patios, outbuildings, cottages and one beautiful main house. Isabel had known it would be nice. She hadn’t known it would be a dream house straight out of
Italian House Beautiful
magazine. It was surrounded by citrus trees and twisted ancient olive groves. It had everything an Italian villa should have, including the children who came running from all directions, playing with their large shaggy dog and shrieking as if they hadn’t seen their uncle Dario for years.

They threw themselves at him, and he hoisted one little boy onto his shoulders. Two others grabbed his legs and tried to hang on. Isabel stared at the sight of the man she would have voted “most likely to avoid children and animals.”

She couldn’t be more surprised to find that he was so popular with this group. And he apparently liked them as much as they liked him. So he wasn’t always all about business. He’d said he didn’t live to work. Maybe it was true.

If anyone had asked her, she would have sworn he was a loner, in fact hadn’t he as much as told her so? She assumed that because he kept to himself and avoided his family, he wouldn’t want to play or laugh with anyone, including kids or dogs. How wrong she was. His deep laughter echoed in the
summer air. It was a rich, warm sound that left her dazed, standing there alone with her mouth open. Dario, children and pets. She couldn’t have been more surprised to see them all together, getting along famously.

A short pretty woman in a simple but well-made blue cotton dress and leather thonged sandals intercepted Dario and the children.

“Dario,” she said, hugging her brother. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” he said. “Nonna’s orders.” He turned and waved to Isabel. “Isabel Morrison, this is my sister Lucia.”

“Welcome to El Encanto,” Lucia said.

By then the children’s entreaties were getting louder. Dario excused himself and he and the kids walked across the lawn.

Lucia watched her brother go. “I’m so glad you could come to dinner. I can’t believe Dario came too.” She was still staring off in the distance as if she was afraid he was an apparition, and if she took her eyes away, he’d disappear.

“But I thought…”

“You thought we all ate together every night like a big happy Italian family? Some of us do, but Dario has been absent from family gatherings ever since…for a long time. We have you to thank for bringing him here tonight.”

She sounded truly grateful, as if Isabel was responsible for Dario’s presence when it had been his grandmother’s orders that brought him.

“Thank you for inviting me. Your house is lovely.”

“It’s old and been in the family for generations. Come and have a tour. You’ll have to excuse Dario for taking off, my children are so excited he’s here. They haven’t seen much of him lately. As I said, his visits are rather rare.”

“I understand the crush is keeping everyone busy,” Isabel said.

“We’re all busy,” his sister said, a frown creasing her brow. “But we still make time for family. At least the rest of us do.”

Isabel didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Lucia filled in. “It’s the children who miss him the most. He’s always been their favorite uncle and they don’t understand where he’s been and why he doesn’t come around to see them. Do you have children?” she asked.

“Uh, no. I’m not married.” Why did Italians think every woman her age should be married?

“I see. Well, they’ve dragged my brother off to have a look at the new tennis court and they’ll try to persuade him to play a game or two with them. When it comes to the children, he’s their hero and there’s no one else they’d rather see. He’s
Babbo Natale,
our Father Christmas and Paolo Maldini, our most famous soccer player, rolled into one. Though I warned them he is busy and might need to leave early tonight they just don’t understand. They only remember when he’d come by just to see them. He hasn’t been the same…for quite a while.”

Isabel was certainly getting a new perspective on Lucia’s brother. He didn’t seem like the type of man children would adore or drag off to play tennis with. And yet, according to his sister, who ought to know, he was. He’d told Isabel his family was too intrusive and demanding. Maybe it was more than that. Or less. Maybe it had more to do with his former fiancée.

Lucia led Isabel through the heavy oak front door into the house with its brightly tiled floors, comfortable couches and antique pieces and into the kitchen. There, standing on a stool so she could reach the stove, and stirring a pot of sauce was the old woman she’d met at the market. She looked up and smiled broadly.

“Ciao. Benvenuto alla nostra casa.”

“Grazie per ivitarlo,”
Isabel said.

The grandmother let out a torrent of Italian words directed to her daughter while Isabel stood and admired the kitchen
with its rough red-tiled floor and the brass pots and pans hanging from the ceiling.

“She says she hopes you like Sicilian food.”

“I’m sure I will. Does she do all the cooking here?”

“Oh, no. We have a cook who’s been with the family for years. But she oversees it all, the sausage stuffing, the rolling out of the pasta, making the cheese that comes from the goats my grandfather raises. And when we have a special guest like you, she has to be right here in the kitchen to make sure everything turns out right. Actually my family and I live nearby but we love coming for dinner at least once a week. So did Dario once. Before he became a workaholic.”

“What a nice custom,” Isabel murmured, ignoring the part about Dario and his work habits. She knew if she had a grandmother and a big family she would be here once a week at least. But then she hadn’t been through a drought and a fungus attack and the sale of her land as well as a personal problem like a broken engagement. Maybe he just needed time out from his family. Since she had no family, it wasn’t easy to imagine. It certainly sounded like he’d been avoiding them for some time.

One day she would have a tradition like this. She wouldn’t have grandchildren, but she could have friends. She could have a garden, maybe even a goat or two. She already had a pond and a vineyard. She had more than most people she knew.

“Come and see the garden. Nonna is very proud of her Romano beans, eggplants, figs, zucchini and Italian chiles. But the roses are all Nonno’s. Before he had his stroke he poured all his energy into them. I’m sorry you won’t meet him tonight. He’s having dinner in his room. He overdid it today, and he needs rest.”

Stepping outside through a lovely shaded patio with hanging pots of bright geraniums, Lucia took Isabel to the
garden and pointed out the different types of roses her grandfather had planted. “These are Balkan double yellow, over there pink Queen Isabella. Your namesake,” she said with a smile. “They almost take the place of grapes in his life, but not quite.”

“He must have plenty of grapes as well. Your Montessori Cabernet and Merlot wines are famous. Dario told me he is especially proud of—what was it? A Benolvio we had at a restaurant.”

Lucia gave her a surprised look. “Where was that?”

“I don’t know the name of it, it was an old palace at one time, I believe.”

Lucia nodded. “The Palazzo, yes it’s a wonderful restaurant, a special place, I’m glad he took you there. And surprised. He always tells us he has no time to spare.”

“This was actually more of a business lunch,” Isabel said, hoping she hadn’t spoken out of line. “I have a lot to learn from him about growing grapes and making wine.” She was sure it was a business lunch as far as Dario was concerned. He’d never have taken her to lunch if he hadn’t been trying to get her to buy another property instead of the Azienda.

Lucia paused and gave Isabel a curious glance, then she picked some lovely pink Queen Isabella blooms. She tore off some faded petals as the heady fragrance filled the air. It was time for Isabel to level with his sister.

“You see, I’m in the wine business too. I inherited the Azienda Spendora from my uncle.”

“Oh,” Lucia said. “So you’re the one.”

“Yes, I’m the one.” What had she heard about her? That she was unreasonable? That she didn’t deserve the property?

Lucia gave Isabel a long look, then she smiled and said,
“Benvenuto in Sicilia.”

“Grazie,”
Isabel said, relieved at her reaction, so different
from her brother’s the day she’d arrived. She seemed as friendly as she’d be to any newcomer to the area.

“How did you meet Dario?” Lucia asked

“Not only did he give me directions on my first day,” Isabel said, “but he was kind enough to take me to the property himself.” At the time the word
kind
hadn’t crossed her mind.

“I see,” Lucia said thoughtfully. “How nice.”

Just then a woman wearing an apron came out and rang a little bell. She spoke a few words to Lucia and Lucia said, “It’s time for dinner.”

The bell seemed to work well. Children came running from every direction along with several adults, including Dario, who had joined his grandmother and was deep in a serious conversation with her. They made quite a striking pair, the small, black-clothed old woman and her handsome strapping grandson. From the way she was talking to him, it seemed more of a lecture on her part than a conversation. Isabel would have given much to be able to understand it. Anyone who could lecture Dario must be a figure to be reckoned with.

Before he took a seat, Dario greeted his brothers and sisters, their husbands and wives, who all seemed delighted and surprised to see him. They hugged him, kissed him on both cheeks and were peppering him with questions which he interrupted to introduce them to Isabel as the new owner of the Azienda, in case someone hadn’t gotten the word. Then he took a seat at the outdoor table under the arbor across from her.

There was no mistaking the looks she got. They’d heard about her and now they wanted to see for themselves. There were somewhere between fifteen and twenty at the table and she had a hard time remembering who was Maria, who was Paolo, which girl was Francesca and which was Angela.

They all talked at once in rapid Italian while the maid
served bowls of a light creamy soup. Just one taste and Isabel was convinced she was in heaven.

“Do you like it?” Dario asked from across the table.

“It’s wonderful. What is it?”

“
Maccu
, a Sicilian specialty. Made from our own home-grown beans. Grandmother wanted to make a special dinner for you. She’s convinced no restaurant or hotel can come up with the true Sicilian cuisine.”

“Tell her thank you. I’m very grateful to be included at your family dinner. It’s not the same as eating at the hotel.”

“Although the food at the Cairoli isn’t bad,” Dario said with a pointed glance at Isabel. “They make a very decent veal Madeira. They even have room service.”

The knowing look he gave her told her he hadn’t forgotten the intimate dinner they’d shared. Or not kissing her. She hoped his family didn’t think she’d invited him to that intimate dinner, when his arrival had been a complete surprise to her. In fact, he had a disconcerting way of seeming to see right through her clothes, as he did right now, when his intense gaze seemed to strip away her sundress.

She shivered in the warm air and concentrated on the soup in front of her. Did anyone notice this casual flirtation on his part? Or was she mistaken? That was not flirting, Sicilian-style, it was just…something else. Or was it what they expected from him? More likely they had once been used to him bringing women to dinner for the family to meet and scrutinize, at least in the days before his engagement. What did they think of his ex-fiancée?

“Nonna told us how you helped her last evening at the market. I’m afraid shopping is rather limited around here,” Angela said.

“Not at all. I bought some wonderful meat and cheese. And the fruits and vegetables we had for lunch today were beautiful,” she said to Dario.

His sisters exchanged looks. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything about their lunch. Maybe they’d get the wrong idea, think that she and their brother were spending quite a lot of time together.
It’s just business
, she wanted to say. But was it?

“I mean, I’m not yet set up for housekeeping, so Dario brought me some food, or I don’t think I could have made it through the day,” she said, feeling her cheeks grow hot as she struggled to make less of the lunch than it was.

“How do you like the Azienda?” his sister Caterina asked politely.

“Very much. It needs work, but it has lots of potential.”

Again, looks were exchanged around the table. What did they expect? That she was a spoiled heiress who was so discouraged she might turn around and go back to America? Maybe that’s what Dario had told them.

Dario said nothing. He couldn’t be surprised since he’d heard her say the same thing before. Instead he took a large helping of the caponata, a classic mixture of eggplant, capers and olives.

His grandmother looked around the table at her family who were unusually quiet.
“Que es male? No le gradite?
” she asked.

“It’s delicious, Nonna,” Dario assured her. He got up and poured red wine from a carafe for everyone. “Isabel is interested in history. Of course Sicily is the ideal place to study the past since we’ve been colonized for six thousand years by everyone who came sailing in the Mediterranean. I showed her the ruins at Casale since they’re close by.”

“I thought you were too busy for sightseeing,” his brother Cosmo said from the end of the table. “Now we see the reason you suddenly find a time in your schedule for someone, but not your beloved family.” He shot an admiring glance in Isabel’s direction.

Dario, back in his seat, poured some fruity olive oil into a
small dish. “Never too busy to give a newcomer a tour of the countryside,” he said.

“And how do you like our wine?” his brother Cosmo asked. “Or should I say
your
wine?”