Donatella gets up from the table, her tea in hand. “I think I still have time to add an extra shot to my tea after all.”
Knock, knock, knock.
This time, it’s Fiorella and Paola, with her famous quick-settingcantuccini.
Mamma quashes their enthusiasm before they can even open their mouths. “No, Charles isn’t here. We have no idea when he’s coming.”
As if the initial disappointment weren’t enough, as soon as Fiorella spots Angela and Giliola, she gives me a hurt look as if to say,I thought we said you’d call me first.
Wedding fever has spread through Belvedere once again, and at this rate I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a run onBride Magazinedown at the newsstand.
The air in the room is saturated with estrogen: daughters on the hunt, mothers competing, and we—an awkward quartet in the form of a grumpy widow, a bitter auntie, a former teen mom, and a party girl—are bearing witness to the carnage.
At the fourth knock at the door, Mamma, exhausted, seizes her rolling pin. “I’ll take care of this,” she threatens.
But, to our amazement, instead of yet another mother-daughter duo, it’s Vannucci, the notary. “I’m not armed,” he says, defending himself from Mamma, hands in the air.
“Oh, Vannucci, finally. Welcome to the circus. Come tame these tigers. We give up.”
He enters, intimidated, looking like someone who would rather be elsewhere. “Good evening, everyone.”
The mothers and daughters attack him with a barrage of questions: “Where is Charles?” “Will you introduce him to us tonight?” “Has he eaten dinner yet?”
Vannucci scratches his head, hesitating. “Well, actually, I’m here to inform Mrs. Donatella and Elisa that Charles has decided to decline his inheritance.”
An ominous silence falls over the kitchen. Only Giliola, after several seconds of disbelief, has the courage to open her mouth. “So he’s not here with you?”
“He’s in London. He’s handing over the estate to his closest relatives.”
“I knew it!” mutters Mamma. “Those hideous Ricasolis of Pontassieve! Then again, between the broken gate, the boiler, the garage, and the clogged flue, they will really need to shell out; otherwise, everything here will go to pieces.” Mamma, as befits a housekeeper, always sees the practical side of things and doesn’t even think about the girls’ shattered dreams, even as their long faces practically stretch to the ground.
“I’m sorry. I should receive his formal renunciation in a few days. I have to go. Good night.”
But his hopes of quietly slipping away die when the convoy of mothers follows him out, bombarding him with questions about why and how it could be that Charles didn’t accept.
Mamma, Giada, Donatella, and I are finally left alone, in the newfound peace of the house, but instead of calm, I feel a burning in my chest.
The moment I heard about Charles’s hypothetical return, my mind immediately flew to Michael, his best friend. He and his older brother, George, always visited the Bingleys in the summer, and Michael and I were very close. We had the same instinct for trouble, were both incapable of sitting still, and were constantly on the lookout for a newadventure. And we always dragged poor Carletto—Charles, now that he’s in London—along on our escapades.
As silly as it may seem—fifteen years having passed—I found myself thinking that Michael might have come with Charles, just like when we were kids.
3
Michael
Two weeks later
What I thought was the exception is now the rule: I’m woken by the phone and the unamused voice of my assistant, Penny: “You’re late. Again.”
I leap out of bed, scolding myself for having slept through my alarm. Or should I say, my alarms—all four of them.
The triple espresso I down has no effect, so, before going out, I quickly pop a fourth capsule of the ultra-strong and hyper-concentrated blend into the Nespresso machine while I button my shirt.
No time for a shave or a tie today; there are six messages on my phone from Saxton, the last of which is a terseWe’re waiting for you.
The taxi ride from Grosvenor Square to Marylebone, though short, only heightens my anxiety.
“Saxton started the Bradford meeting without you,” Penny informs me when I arrive at the office. “They’re in the Windsor Room.”
