“Very good, Profesora.” Marco beamed. The rush in my head must have been from the dessert wine, not from his smile. “The wine is the heart of my estate,” Marco told me as if he were imparting a secret. “For many ages––at least two centuries––my ancestors have tended the grapes to create this flavor. And Gregorio must know how to manage the family company.”
That task seemed monumental. One glance at my student told me this was more than he could fathom right now.
“It is important that my son Gregorio know everything about the wine. From the vineyard to the wooden casks. Everything.” And he gestured to the poor boy.
Meanwhile, Gregorio had become very interested in his dessert wine. Still, the red circle on each cheek did not come from the wine. No, I thought it came from being the subject of the conversation. Gregorio did not like to be noticed. If it wasn’t his father, it was Ama always asking him to do more, to be more. And that wasn’t what the teenage years were about. At least, not to me.
“…and so I think the ball would be a good idea,” Marco was saying when I tuned back into the conversation. “An excellent way for me to see a broader variety of women. I’m not so sure about Gabriella.”
A smile tickled Gregorio’s lips. The rest of them were waiting. “Pardon me?” What on earth was he talking about?
“We will have a ball, in say, two weeks’ time? A splendid ball.” Marco looked more than pleased. “Like the Jay Gatsby ball. You know, to attract more women.”
“Because…” My mind was whirling.
He tapped a finger on the table. “Time is passing. Of course I am in excellent shape, but I am not a young man anymore.”
I was speechless.
Pushing back his chair, Marco stood as if to attest to his physical condition. I could hear Reena declaring him “one fine specimen of a man,” the way she did when she totally approved.
Oh mercy. My chair scraped back. Ama looked at me in surprise. Now, when it came to royalty there were rules about everything, including the table. I suppose it wasn’t polite to leave when His Excellency. His Majesty. Whoever––was still on his feet. But this had been a very long day. “Excuse me. Lexi?”
We escaped. That night we took the elevator upstairs.
“A ball,” Lexi said. “What will I wear?”
“We’ll find something in the village.” What? A tablecloth? The idea made me giggle.
As I fell asleep that night, how I wished that in the morning Milo would whisk me away to the airport. This summertime gig might be safe for Lexi.
But I was beginning to wonder if it was safe for me.
11
In the days to come, the castle hummed with preparations for the gala affair that would drum up candidates to be Marco’s queen. Was this weird or what? And I felt responsible for this disgusting show.
Back in Pennsylvania, the farmers would have livestock auctions. Prize cows would be studied and discussed while auctioneers rattled off their attributes. Long ago, my father had sometimes taken me. As a child, I’d been fascinated by the speed of the process. Later, I would think back and be disgusted.
“The barn smelled like the state fair,” I’d told my mother with excitement when we returned.
“Time to wash up, Christina,” Dad would say, smiling at my mother. Their marriage had looked so effortless. Had I been naïve to expect the same?
My marriage to Wallace had been a disaster. I’d been blind-sided. The Newharts were friends of my parents, so my choice had been preapproved––or so I thought. What could go wrong? He was tall, handsome and charming. In the beginning Wallace had hidden his drinking very well––but so had his father.
While he studied for his doctoral degree, I went to work at the local high school and helped put him through school. Those first years weren’t very romantic. Wallace had to study a lot. Later I would remember those empty beer cans I’d find in the trash the mornings after he’d been working on his thesis.
By the time he was instated as a professor at the local university, he was a closet drinker. But I thought I’d be able to change him. Limit his drinking. My pregnancy had been a surprise, but I welcomed it. Surely a baby would help Wallace get his priorities straight.
He only drank more. By the time Lexi was three, I knew I’d chosen the wrong man. How many times had I thought back, wishing I’d separated from him earlier, sooner. Maybe then the accident with Lexi never would have happened.
I tried not to think about it. Paralyzing guilt swept over me whenever I thought back.
And now I was here, as far from Pittsburgh as a woman could be. The upcoming gala affair filled me with a sense of dread. Marco had gone crazy. Everyone was supposed to dress as their favorite movie or TV character, which seemed kind of childish. And of course most of the shows were American. Our TV shows were streamed across the globe.
“I’m so glad you came here,” Gregorio told me one June day when the air hung heavy in the classroom. Picking up my notebook, I fanned myself.
“That’s very sweet. Do you mean so you have Lexi to ride with?” Almost every afternoon, they escaped to the woods. When I caught sight of them from an upstairs window, I marveled at her confidence, which seemed to grow every day.
