I returned the smile and hopefully the warmth. “Yeah, I am.”
“Avelina Maria Simonetti,” she whispered. “Avelina has multiple origins, but I think it prominently means desired or wished for. If we’re talking about its Germanic roots, hazelnut. Such a beautiful word, and it reflects what it is. Rich and warm. Makes the best desserts, in my humble opinion. I get that from you too.” She laughed, and it was like bells chimed. “In Latin and Spanish it would be…little bird.”She flapped her arms gently, and then she sighed. “Your great-aunt’s initials are the same as the ones engraved in the gold.”
“This can’t—” I took the cross from her, tracing the engraving. I stopped myself from finishing with thatcan’tbe, but itcouldbe. I brought up Marzio’s brothers, Ricco and Francesco, both in love with my great-aunt. I wondered out loud how the house we were in had come to have this piece of my history.
Scarlett shrugged. “Maybe one of the brothers brought Avelina here? Since Lucrezia was married to…” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Rocco remembers so much about this family. He could’ve been a historian.”
“He does.” I laughed. “And I’m pretty sure whatever interests these men they excel at.”
She snapped her fingers and said, “Leonardo! Lucrezia and Leonardo. That was his name!”
“That makes things much easier for embroidering. L & L.”
We both cracked up for a moment.
She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sure it would be so amazing for you to find out how your great-aunt’s cross got here. I had a mystery to solve in my family too.”
She told me all about her famous ballerina grandmother, and how she’d had an affair with a famous Italian painter of the time, and the affair had produced her mother, the famed clothing designer. Her mother had no idea the painter was her father until Scarlett did some digging, and Uncle Tito and Aunt Lola had confided in her that they had all been friends.
Scarlett was interesting on her own, her career, but I was realizing she went much deeper than that when it came to stories that sucked you in. I was realizing that my family had mysteries and stories of their own, and I found myself getting sucked into a past that didn’t belong to me but was tied to me too.
“Somehow, it feels like my life and my great-aunt’s life are twisting somehow. Connecting.” I set the necklace back in the box, but for some reason, it bothered me to do so.
I longed to feel the warmth of it against my skin. I longed to wear a symbol of my faith around my neck. To take inspiration from the women who came before me and turn it into strength and courage. I picked the necklace back up and held on to it.
“Francesco the younger and his line isn’t going to let…whatever this is go.”
Scarlett shook her head. “I don’t even need my instincts to tell me that. History schooled me well. This is too great a chance for them to challenge the current line over a feud that never truly died.”
“Even though my great-aunt did.”
“In an air-raid.”
I nodded, and when she became quiet, I gave her a few moments before I asked in a whisper, “What is it, Scarlett?”
It took her another few moments before she picked up the laminated article from the desk and handed it to me. “Was it in Naples? The air-raid?”
“My Nonna didn’t give specifics. She had a hard time with it all.”
“She blamed the Fausti family.”
I thought back on how she’d reacted to being so close to them when Scarlett had invited her husband’s family to stay at her parents’ house in the Quarter. “I didn’t think too deep on it back then, probably because the family was never on my radar, but now that I know things I didn’t before…yeah, I can see that.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who is indifferent to them. It’s one way or another.”
“Love or hate.”
“Appreciation or resentment.”
“But no indifference.”
“No, none of that.”
I thought about my sister-in-law’s words and had to agree. The Fausti family would never accept that kind of reaction. No matter how they made a person feel—whether you loved or hated them—they would make him or her feel something. They would make an impression that could be felt until someone’s dying breath.
Because no one ever forgot someone they either loved or hated.
Scarlett repeated the words that had just been rattling inside of my head, and we looked at each other, both coming to terms that we could read each other, then I sighed and took a seat, setting the cross back where I’d found it.
