Sighing, I squeezed back in response.I know, the touch communicated. Carmen walked up, followed by Juliette, and I mentioned mingling with the guests to pass the time, making sure they were all comfortable and no one was feeling ignored. All the women agreed this was a very good idea, and we split up to chat with the guests.
It did my heart good to hear the chatter, the drunken songs still being sung, the children still laughing, and see the swaying couples on the dance floor. Men and women were both thanking me and Rocco for a beautiful night, and the compliments on the food and drink were coming as steady as the wine was flowing.
Uncle Tito was sitting at a table, his face flushed with color, a full bottle in front of him. He patted the table, a sign he was offering me a seat, and an older gentleman tipped his hat to me before he offered me the seat next to Uncle Tito.
“Can I get you anything,ProzioTito?” I asked, dusting off his collar. Some vineyard dust had settled on him. Then I took one of the lighter blankets I’d made sure was left out for guests and covered his shoulders with it.
He laughed, patted my hands, then pushed a goblet at me and filled it with wine.
“Grazie,ProzioTito,” I whispered as we clanked glasses and both took a sip.
I sighed, and so did he.
“You are a stunning woman, Aria Amora Bella Fausti,” he said. “Perfect for my nephew.” He took another drink of his wine. “This old man appreciates how you and your sisters of the heart always make sure to take care of me.”
“It’s a pleasure to do it,” I said. “You’re an amazing uncle.”
He made a gravelly noise low in his throat. He smiled and made a cute noise at his wife, who Brando and Scarlett’s youngest son, Maestro, had on the dance floor, basically holding her up. They were dancing to “Angolo Di Cielo.”
“She’s so beautiful,” I said, truly finding warmth in watching Lola still laugh and enjoy life at her age. My grandmother had been the same. She didn’t count the years she had left. She felt blessed by them and aged gracefully, even when the sickness was taking her. She had her hard days, terrible days, but she’d always tell me she felt blessed to still be breathing.
He turned his smile on me. “It takes a beautiful woman to recognize a beautiful woman and compliment her.” He lifted his glass, and we clinked again.
“Grazie,” I said again.
He cleared his throat. “I remember your great-aunt, the beautiful Avelina. I knew your grandmother as well, Elisabetta. It never ceases to amaze me how small the world becomes when fate sets the path we travel.”
The glass slowly came down from my lips. “I understand my grandmother, since she worked for Scarlett’s parents, and you were with the Fausti family when they visited New Orleans, but…Avelina?”
He nodded. “I was a bit younger than Marzio and wedged between Ricco and Francesco in terms of age. You know of Scarlett’s grandmother, the famed Maja Resnik?”
“I do,” I barely got out. A cold wind breezed by, and goosebumps appeared on my skin, highlighted by the twinkling lights above our heads.
Uncle Tito reached over and, like a magician would do with a cape, swirled the blanket over my shoulders. The silk of the dress felt like ice suddenly against my skin. I thanked him again, and he nodded, taking another drink of his wine.
“I must admit, although I have noticed the similarities between you and Avelina, it has not been as shocking as seeing you this night. I believed my eyes were deceiving me—that I was seeing her again.”
“The dresses.” I cleared my throat. “This dress is vintage, and the way I’ve styled my hair.” I’d showered after the crushing of the grapes and after Rocco and I made love, but I’d decided to go with the same style, my hair pulled back to one side, the grape clip still in place. I lifted my hand to double check, the blanket falling a bit before I fixed it.
He nodded, and his eyes stilled on my wrist. “Even the watch you are wearing.”
I looked down at it. It was a vintage style. I’d found it inNel Cielo, and I assumed it had belonged to Grazia’s sister, Lucrezia, the woman who had lived in what was now my home.
“However.” He lifted a finger. “It is more than that. More than just the physical. It is as if her spirit surrounds you tonight.”
“I feel her,” I whispered. “Especially since being in Italy.”
He was staring at me, his eyes far off almost, like he was seeing another time. Finally, he nodded and cleared his throat. “Italy is where she was born. Where she lived. Where she, unfortunately, died much before her time.”
“Did she…did Avelina truly love Ricco?”
“Sì,” he said. “She did. But as we both know, the Fausti family has a way of doing things in a manner that is different from the rest of the world. Or they would not be the family they are, ah? It was claimed that Francesco saw Avelina first.”
“The letters give a hint to that.” My voice was quieter than the wind, but he heard me. I brought up the letters my great-aunt had left behind, realizing he was waiting for more. “But what I don’t understand is this…it takes two to love. I’m sure even the Fausti family understands this. Why couldn’t my great-aunt make the choice, since she was the deciding factor?”
“This is a complicated situation in the family. A claim should be respected, and if it is not, this is translated into honor being disrespected. Also the will of fate.”
“Isn’t love being disrespected if the two who love each other have to fight for it—all because of a claim made by the unloved party?”
