Chapter Twenty Two
I take care as I get ready the next evening.
I blow-dry my hair with the hope that when the humidity inevitably kicks in, I’ll be left with only a few bouncing waves.
I pick out a light blue linen dress and a pair of flat strappy sandals.
Functional enough to help with setup as I promised Anita yesterday, but presentable enough to make a good impression on the people of La Musa.
Also, cute enough to spend the whole day with a guy I’ve hooked up with a couple of times.
When I walk downstairs, dozens of people in white shirts and black slacks are shuffling in and out.
Staff are busy readying the house, carrying long buffet tables through to the back and setting up a welcome bar in the foyer.
I walk through the house to the kitchen, where Anita is directing a full crew.
It takes several moments of standing among the chaos before I even have a chance to let her know I’m here.
“Anita, hi,” I say, when there’s finally a pause in the clanging of pots and rapid instructions.
She looks up at me, still holding a knife as she shows a chef how to chop. “Good. You’re here.”
“Yes, although it looks like you have everything under control.” Another crew of workers files through, carrying large buffet-style trays.
“Hardly,” she says, waving away the chef and getting to work on mincing garlic. “I’m behind. Would you mind setting the tables outside? Everything you need is out there, and make sure the centerpieces are evenly spaced.”
I glance outside warily. The fearful look in all the hired help’s eyes make me question if I’m up to the task, but there’s also no world in which I refuse. “Of course.”
I head out back where it’s refreshingly less crowded. In addition to their already ridiculously long dining table, a few others have been set up as well as a spattering of smaller high-tops. I pick up a stack of napkins and start folding them.
“Izzy?”
I lift up my head and see Benito walking toward me, carrying several bouquets of flowers. “Hey,” I say. The door to his bedroom has remained tightly shut since I’ve been back.
He sets the flowers down on the main table. “You’re a bit early.”
“Your mom asked me to help.”
Benito glances around at the copious amount of hired help. “I can see why.”
I smirk. “Maybe this was all an elaborate setup by your mom. She’s using forced proximity to get us to make peace.”
Benito shifts uncomfortably. He reaches for a vase on the table and starts working on the floral arrangements.
“Benito, I was kidding,” I say. I walk over so I’m standing on the opposite side of the table from him. He wordlessly hands me an empty vase and I copy how he methodically pulls one stem out from each bouquet to add to the vase, cutting off the ends. “Unless I’m not?”
He sighs. “I was upset the morning after you left. I knew you left because of me, but the sight of your empty bedroom. . . it was a lot. She asked me what was wrong, so I told her about you, about us. I told her everything.”
I lose track of what I’m doing and nick my finger on a rose thorn. “Ow. Everything?”
“Everything.” He looks up at me.
“So your mom knows about that night in Lake Como? Great.” I smash my palm to my head.
Benito looks at my hand in horror. “Jesus, Izzy. You’re bleeding.
” I pull my hand off my forehead and look—sure enough, there’s a stream of blood coming from where the rose pricked me.
Benito picks up a napkin from my freshly folded stack and walks over to me.
He takes my hand and wraps the napkin around my bleeding finger.
“I told her an abridged, mother-friendly version of everything.”
He holds the napkin tight against my finger, creating pressure. He takes my other hand and gently guides it to take his hand’s place. When he lets go, I feel a twinge of loss. He starts to walk toward the house. “You’re just going to leave me here to bleed out?”
“Relax. I’m getting the first aid kit.”
I look back at the rose culprit, now bloodstained on its stem. How appropriate that the world’s most romantic flower stabbed me. A sign, perhaps, that I should be done with all of it for good.
Benito returns to finish fixing me up. He removes the napkin and opens up the Band-Aid, wrapping it around my finger so clinically, it’s almost like he, too, was startled by the warmth of our earlier contact and is trying to keep things between us sterile.
“Thanks,” I say, when he’s done. Benito quickly goes back to working on the floral arrangements.
“Hey,” I say. He doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I left without saying anything.
I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I didn’t hear what you were saying.
I get it now. I really do. You were right.
I can’t be nothing. I can’t do nothing. It’s not who I am. ”
Benito stops what he’s doing and nods. “Thanks.” He goes back to his work, and I wonder if that’s where we’ll leave it, but after a moment, he looks up.
“I’m sorry too. It wasn’t up to me to tell you how you should live your life.
Especially when mine’s a mess. Izzy, please know, you don’t need to do something big with your life to be important.
You being you is enough. It’s more than enough. ”
My eyes lock into his and I feel immediately at ease, like the past few weeks never happened and we’re rain-soaked in the middle of the gardens again. I snap myself out of the fantasy. “And what about you? I mean, what will you do now that you can do anything you want?”
Benito looks down again and then lets out a laugh. “I have no idea.”
We finish our work wordlessly, and when we’re done, Benito excuses himself upstairs to get ready. I find Anita directing traffic as the staff puts the last touches on the setup. As always, the house looks stunning. “I didn’t realize how elaborate an affair this is,” I say.
Anita shrugs. “It’s not every day your son resigns as mayor and your husband announces a major development deal that will completely change the town you’ve lived in your whole life.”
She fidgets with the champagne flutes on top of the welcome bar.
I can’t get a read on her. Her passive attitude toward Raffaello’s actions has always been at odds with her personality, but a woman like Anita has to have a limit.
“They built this town on top of a hill to defend it from invaders. A thousand years later it’s finally falling,” I say.
Anita rests a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be too sure about that.”
As the guests start to file in, I take my place outside with a cool glass of wine. Everyone I know is here: Lucia made the trip from Siena with her husband; Vincenzo and Valeria; Giac; an older woman with him I presume to be his dreaded aunt—even Giuseppe put on a fresh T-shirt for the occasion.
“It’s hard to picture a changed La Musa,” Vincenzo says, raising his glass to meet mine.
I take in the view of the countryside against the light of the dipping sun. “I know. It doesn’t seem right.”
Vincenzo smiles. “You know Paola,” he says, pointing to Giac’s aunt. “It is rumored that she was cursed when she was a baby, and ever since, every party she enters is doomed.”
I look to him in horror. “Jesus. Really?”
He does a sign of the cross. “Yes. That’s why I invited her.”
He winks at me. Benito walks over to us, interrupting. He looks distressed. He looks great, sharp, in a pale green button-down and beige linen pants, but the top buttons of his shirt are undone, and he massages his chest with his hand. “Have you seen my mamma?”
I do another cursory look around the yard. “No, I haven’t. Why? Are you ok?”
“No.” Benito shakes his head. “I made a mistake. I said something I shouldn’t have. She walked away in a huff and now I can’t find her anywhere. The announcement is soon.”
“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.” I nod to Vincenzo and follow Benito inside the house. “What did you say?”
“It was a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean to upset her. I didn’t mean to say it at all.” He opens the door to the study but quickly closes it again when Anita is not inside.
“What did you say?” I try again.
Benito runs his hand through his hair. “She was saying even when my father takes over as mayor, he’ll still travel back and forth to Milan for business, and I said ‘not only for business.’”
He looks at me sheepishly. I let out a little laugh. “Oh, yeah, she’s disowning you for sure.” Benito sighs heavily and I instinctively grab his hand. It catches us both off guard, but I commit to it. “Don’t worry. She probably is upset, but maybe she just went somewhere to cool off.”
Benito relaxes a little. I stroke my thumb against his hand. He looks up at me and smiles slightly. “How do you do that? You bring me back to earth so quickly.”
It’s a dizzying statement because I suddenly feel like I’m floating 10 feet above the ground. “I’ve been told I’m good at humbling people,” I say, letting go of Benito’s hand because the contact is starting to feel too good.
Benito laughs. “You are. It’s funny, La Musa is my hometown, but before I met you, I never cared what happened to it.
And now—” His face falls, presumably with the reminder that soon it will be a shell of its former self.
“A part of me wonders if I should stay here if only to fight my father on every change he wants to make until the bitter end.”
My stomach twists at the unknown of where Benito will end up. “Is that what you want? To stay?”
Before he can answer, Anita emerges from one of the other doors in the long hallway, carrying a manila folder. She doesn’t seem upset. In fact, she’s grinning. “Come, come, you two, the big announcement is about to begin.”