Chapter Eleven #2
He runs his fingers through his hair and paces. Despite my confusion about the scene outside, I have the urge to wrap my arms around him again, relieving the tension from carrying the weight of his familial drama on his shoulders.
I remember that Sutton didn’t flinch when Anita introduced her as his girlfriend. “Why is Sutton here?”
He sighs again and walks over to the collection of wine bottles on the kitchen counter, committing to our original purpose. “I assume my father brought her as some sort of peace offering. Or he meant to distract me with her so he could swoop in and manipulate my mother into taking him back.”
He picks out a white and works to open it with a corkscrew.
“He messaged me two days ago ‘looking forward to seeing you, son’ with absolutely no other context. He sent Lucia something similar, so we knew something was up—shit!” He drives the corkscrew too deep, straight through the cork. He works to readjust it.
“And then my mother wasn’t responding to my messages all day, so Lucia decided to come down here herself because we both had a bad feeling, and when she made it back to the house, she found our suspicions were right: He was sitting in the kitchen with my mother like nothing had ever happened.”
He finally gets the cork out of the bottle and pours a glass of wine. He hands it to me before pouring one for himself. I take a sip, digesting his words. “So he’s back for good?”
“Who knows what lies he’s told. I tried to talk some sense into Mamma but all she said was fatti i cazzi tuoi.” He takes in the glass of wine like a shot.
“What does that mean?”
Benito laughs lightly. “It means mind your own fucking business.”
“Huh. Vincenzo hasn’t taught me that one.” I watch as Benito starts opening another bottle of wine. I lean casually against the counter. “And what about Sutton?”
He gets the cork out of the second bottle more easily. “She was in Milan on business and my father convinced her to come with him. He told her it was a business trip, and by the time she realized what he was up to, it was too late.”
I try to add it all up in my head. “But she answers to ‘Benito’s girlfriend.’”
“Yes, because we’re still pretending to be together.” He pours himself a fresh glass of wine as he waits for me to catch up.
“I know, but how did she know to commit to the ruse?”
Benito’s eyebrows narrow. “Because I told her. How could there be a ruse if she didn’t know?”
“Oh,” I say, bridging the gap of information. “She knows you’re lying to your family about the two of you still being together?”
“Of course. She works for my father, so if I hadn’t, the whole plan would fall apart.”
I nearly do a spit-take. “She works for your father?”
“Yes, for his family’s firm in London; that’s how we met.” He gestures toward the backyard. “We should get these out there.” He hands me one of the bottles of wine. “Did you not know that?”
I take the wine and follow him toward the outside door. “Um, no.”
The conversation is cut off by our return to the party.
By now, everyone is seated at the dining table.
We set the bottles in the center. There are two open seats next to Sutton.
Benito sits next to her and I’m on the other side of him, with Anita and Raffaello at the heads of the table and Lucia and her husband across from us.
Anita brings out a tray of crostini, and even the heavenly first bite of her cooking isn’t enough to break the tension.
“Isabella,” Raffaello’s voice booms across the table, “I’m afraid to say your reputation precedes you.”
I cringe and brace for whatever interrogation is next. “Is that right?”
Benito stares his father down sternly. “Papà, don’t.”
Raffaello’s mouth widens into something that resembles a smile. “Relax. I only mean to say that Anita’s done nothing but rave about you.”
I do relax a little. “Oh. Yes. Well, she’s been a lovely hostess. Both her and Benito have.”
He nods approvingly. “I am sorry the town is in such a state for your stay.”
I take a long drink of wine, the coolness of the condensation on the glass a good reprieve from the heat of the day and the tension at the table. “What do you mean?”
Raffaello leans back in his chair and crosses his legs. “You know, I have a vision of a better La Musa. A thriving city instead of a sleepy hollow.”
I send a look in Benito’s direction. “I don’t think we need La Musa to change at all,” I say.
“Papà,” Benito says, “Izzy’s actually been working with the women business owners in town to find more ethical solutions.” I look up at him, surprised.
Raffaello waves his arm. “And that’s all well and good, but it is not sustainable. You know this.”
“We have the opportunity to find a solution that benefits our history and our future.” Benito looks in my direction. My chest warms.
Raffaello laughs. “We shall see about that. Do not think my temporary absence from this place means I’ve abandoned my plans for it.”
Benito’s eyes flit to him like daggers. “I did not think your absence was temporary.”
Anita slams her hand on the table and glares at Benito. Lucia gently shakes her head while Sutton and Lucia’s husband look down. Raffaello, for his part, seems unfazed, instead letting another reptilian grin stretch across his face. “Even you have the capacity to be wrong, my son.”
Benito breathes in, ready to fire back, but it’s Sutton who interjects.
“I think Ben’s only surprised by your sudden return, Raffaello.
” Ben. “We did spring onto him a rather sudden visit, and he’s never been one for surprises.
” She taps her hand on top of Benito’s. Whether out of habit or commitment to the lie, it seems to assuage him.
“Pardon the interruption, Isabella—” Raffaello continues.
“You can call me Izzy.”
“Isabella, you’ll have to come back to relish the new La Musa once it’s complete. If all goes well, we should have a five-star resort that I’m sure someone of your stature will find suitable.”
I struggle to find the words to respond, but to my relief, Benito steps in. “Papà, she’s not visiting, she’s moved here.”
Raffaello waves him off dismissively again. “American women have been taking a break from their lives in Italy for centuries. It’s no secret that they all go home eventually. Our provincial life here can never be enough.”
It’s unsettling to know Benito inherited that particular point of view. “Actually, it’s been refreshing. I’ve been hustling my whole life,” I say.
“Yes.” Benito’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at his father pointedly. “Not everyone has to look elsewhere when they don’t get everything they need here.”
Anita sets her wine glass down with a clank. “Basta.” She gets up from the table and walks inside.
A pang of guilt flashes across Benito’s face. Raffaello shakes his head. “Now you’ve upset your mother. Are you proud of yourself?”
Benito pushes his chair back. “I cannot sit here and pretend that everything is alright after everything you’ve done.
If she won’t acknowledge it, I will.” He stands so he towers over Raffaello, who’s still remarkably unmoved.
“What you’ve done to this family is unforgivable, and I do not accept you as part of it any longer.
” Benito storms off into the house, slamming the door behind him.
Raffaello lets out an amused chuckle and finishes off his glass of wine. “Lucia, my darling, how goes business in Siena?” Lucia looks at him, her wide eyes filling with tears. She gently shakes her head and gets up from the table, following Benito inside. Her husband quietly follows a moment later.
It’s me, Sutton, and Raffaello left, and my insides feel like a slithering army of worms. Sutton and Raffaello exchange a look I can’t quite discern, but it causes Raffaello to let out a huff before walking inside himself.
“Should we stay here?” I ask, though I can’t quite imagine leaving without any resolution.
Sutton laughs. “They’ll calm down after a few minutes and the meal will continue. It always does.” As if to hammer in the sentiment, she leans back in her chair and takes a luxurious sip of wine.
“This happens a lot?” I ask.
“Nearly every family meal, especially when the two Farentino men are at odds. Which is quite frequently.” Sutton may have been more integrated into the family than I thought. She takes another sip of wine. “You’re no stranger to debate. You must feel right at home.” She looks at me knowingly.
I swirl the wine in my glass. “It’s something I thought I left behind.”
Sutton laughs again. “Is that really something you can leave behind, though? Isn’t it a part of who you are? Personally, I find La Musa to be dreadfully boring, but with moments like today I’m certain you can get your fill of drama.” She twirls a lock of her annoyingly shiny hair.
I look back at the house, hoping a member of the Farentino family will return, but no one comes.
Sutton and Raffaello have made it clear they know who I am.
Might as well address the elephant in the room.
“I didn’t get into politics for the dramatics, if that’s what you’re implying.
I wanted to change the world.” It sounds silly in retrospect, a childish dream even, but it’s the crux of what drove me all those years. I wanted to make people’s lives better.
Sutton adjusts, sitting up in her chair like what I’ve said energized her. “Well then, maybe you should settle for changing La Musa.”
“I do not want to change La Musa.”
She holds up her hand. “I appreciate what you see in it; it has its charms, no doubt, to some, but this place has been going downhill for years—decades, really. Think about it. You could have a hand in saving it. If you convince the women business owners to get on board, the revitalized La Musa could be your legacy.”
If I knew I held such a powerful bargaining chip, I would have laid out their resistance more strategically. “For someone who’s only here to keep up appearances, you have a lot of opinions.”
She laughs. “God, you’re right. It’s my brain. I can’t turn it off for more than a glass of wine.” She leans back in her chair again. “Am I a spinster workaholic or am I doggedly ambitious? The line is so thin for a woman, is it not?”
I know what she means, but I don’t trust her enough to let her bond with me. “Well, no one here thinks you’re a spinster, do they?”
She laughs breezily. “True. It must be so odd to you that I agreed to Ben’s little lie, but I did it for him. He’s a good person. He’s been good to me, and I know how important it is to him to keep his mother happy. If my being here helps, then I’ll be here, pretending all is well.”
I take a sharp breath in. What is with everyone and their surprise altruistic intentions around here? Still, there’s an uneasiness in my gut. “But eventually, your breakup will become public, no? Aren’t you worried his family, his father, will be angry with you for lying?”
Sutton smiles softly and the politician in me can’t help but wonder if there’s a scheme cooking beneath her effervescent surface. “No, I am not worried about that.”
The doors fling open and Benito returns. He wordlessly sits and takes a long drink from his wine glass. Sutton passes him the bottle and he refills his glass. “Do you have it all settled, then?” she asks.
Benito tosses back another sip of wine. “Nothing is settled.”
Sutton leans forward so her arm is resting on the table, her hand dangerously close to grazing Benito’s. “Don’t you think you’re being a tad stubborn? I know you and your father have a complicated relationship, but he swore to me he’s only returning because he intends to make things right.”
Benito rolls his eyes. “Is that why he brought you? To be the messenger because he knew I wouldn’t talk to him?”
“No,” Sutton says with a bit of an edge to her voice. “I came here because you asked me not to tell Raffaello what’s going on with us, and it would’ve raised red flags had I declined his offer.”
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with winning favor with the boss,” Benito says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. They’re bickering, and I feel like I’ve suddenly become an innocent bystander in the middle of a lovers’ spat.
“I should go to my room,” I say, pushing my chair out. “There’s clearly a lot you all need to work out, and I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place, so. . .” I stand up. “Nice to meet you, Sutton.”
“Izzy, wait.” Benito stands too. He glances at Sutton and back at me. “Didn’t you have a. . . matter to discuss?” He looks at me pointedly.
It’s an invitation. I could be alone with him. It’s an enticing idea, but Sutton is here, his father is here. I don’t know that there’s a point. “Uh. . . yeah,” I say. “But it can wait.”
Benito takes a step closer to me and lowers his voice. “Are you sure? We can talk. If you want.”
I look back at Sutton, who is watching us closely. “No. It’s ok. I’ll see you later.”
Benito takes another step closer to me and places his hand on my arm. I look at it and he quickly pulls his hand back. Sutton’s eyes widen, her interest piqued. “Good to meet you, Izzy. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
I go up to my bedroom and collapse on my bed. My phone dings and I glance over at it, the screen full of notifications. I open the News app and nearly drop my phone on my face. There’s a headline screaming at me in bold typeface.
Former Congresswoman Isabella Rhodes Trades Washington for the Italian Countryside.