Chapter 20 My Name, Our Home #2
"Then they're idiots." Fio plants herself in front of me, blocking my anxious inspection of the empty terrace. "And their opinions don't matter. You've been doing this work for years, Sera. Long before you married Rafael, long before any of this. You're not playing at anything."
I take a breath and let it out slowly. She's right. I know she's right. I've explained a blend to Fio without once worrying where to put my hands. Why does a small audience make that suddenly impossible?
"The guests are arriving." Rafael's voice comes from behind us, and I turn to see him emerging from the house.
He's dressed simply but well, and he moves toward me with an ease that still catches me off guard.
"Your parents just pulled in. My mother is already interrogating the caterer about the appetizers. "
"Of course she is." I smile despite my nerves. "Did she approve?"
"She made two substitutions and demanded they add more napkins." He reaches me and takes my hand. "So yes, I think she approved."
"I should go greet people." I squeeze his fingers and let go. "Stay close?"
"Always." He touches my cheek briefly, then steps back to give me room.
The next hour passes in a blur of arrivals and greetings.
My parents come first, my father looking slightly uncomfortable in his good jacket, my mother already scanning the terrace for things to improve.
Beatrice abandons the caterer to greet them, smoothing her deep blue dress as she crosses the terrace.
Corrado follows with a plate he's already filled and offers it to my father.
More people filter in. Neighbors I've known since childhood. A few of Rafael's business associates who've become something like friends. Nadia from the market, carrying a small basket of almonds as a gift.
"I hear you're doing something exciting." She sets the basket on one of the side tables and pulls me into a hug. "About time someone in this family had ambitions beyond citrus."
"I'm building on the citrus." I hug her back, grateful for her bluntness. "Just adding to it."
"Even better." She releases me and looks around the terrace. "Where's that husband of yours? I want to see if he recognizes me without an almond stall between us."
"He's by the sample table." I point across the terrace, where Rafael is actually talking to a small cluster of townspeople, his posture open and relaxed. As I watch, he laughs at something one of them says, the sound carrying across the gathering.
Nadia follows my gaze and raises an eyebrow. "Well. That's different."
"It is." I feel something warm spread through my chest. "He's different."
"Good." She pats my arm. "Now go tell everyone about your perfume. I didn't come all this way to eat tiny sandwiches."
I find Fio near the display table and catch her eye. She nods, understanding, and moves to the edge of the terrace where she can see everyone. Rafael notices the shift and extricates himself from his conversation, crossing to stand beside me.
"Ready?" He offers me his hand beside the sample table, keeping his voice low enough that only I can hear.
"No." I take his hand anyway. "But I'm going to do it."
I step forward, and the crowd gradually quiets. Faces turn toward me, expectant, curious. I see my mother's encouraging smile, Beatrice's sharp attention, Fio's steady presence at the edge of my vision.
"Thank you all for coming." My voice sounds stronger than I feel. "I know some of you are wondering why I invited you here today. I promise it's not just for the food, although please eat as much as you want."
A ripple of laughter moves through the crowd. I feel some of the tension ease from my shoulders.
"Most of you know I'm a perfumer." I find my father in the small crowd, holding a sample strip well away from Corrado's plate.
"I want to bring that work closer to the groves.
We're beginning a new fragrance line, with the aim of using ingredients from this estate alongside others we source.
We're calling it Serafina, and I'm creating it in partnership with Fiorella. "
Fio steps forward, and I reach out to take her hand, pulling her to stand beside me.
"Fio knows the growers and producers I need to learn from." I make room for her beside the table. "She also tells me when a blend needs more work, which I occasionally appreciate. We'll be making the decisions together."
"And she listens. Eventually." Fio lifts one of the sample strips, making my mother laugh. "I loved her work before she asked me to join her. I think you'll understand why when you try these."
More laughter, warmer this time. I feel Rafael's hand on the small of my back, steady and grounding.
"We're just at the beginning." I gesture toward the sample table.
"The vials you see here are early experiments, works in progress.
We don't have products ready to sell or a timeline for when we will.
But we have a vision, and we have the skills to make it real.
I wanted to share that with you, the people who've known me and supported me, before we take it any further. "
"What kind of fragrances?" A woman near my mother leans forward, her untouched glass dangling from her fingers.
"I hope they'll surprise you." I turn a trial vial so its handwritten label faces the guests.
"Sicily has more to offer than citrus, though we'll use plenty of that too.
I'm interested in combinations people haven't smelled before, in capturing something about this place that goes beyond the obvious. "
"Start here." Fio moves the clean strips to the front of the table. "These are early trials, made with ingredients we already buy in. Tell us which one you'd want to wear."
The formal part seems to be over. People begin to move again, drifting toward the sample table, breaking into smaller conversations. I feel Rafael's hand still warm against my back.
"You did beautifully." Rafael leans close enough that the words belong to me, even with everyone milling around us. "I'm so proud of you."
"I felt like I was going to throw up the entire time." I turn to face him, letting out a shaky breath. "Did it show?"
"Not even a little." He pulls me into a brief embrace, mindful of all the eyes around us. "You looked like someone who knows exactly what she wants."
"Good. Then I fooled everyone." I lean against his shoulder for a moment before someone calls my name from the table.
The rest of the afternoon unfolds gently.
I move through the gathering, answering questions, accepting congratulations, watching people smell my samples and try to describe what they're experiencing.
Fio catches a man trying to smell all three strips at once and makes him put two down.
His wife laughs, takes the discarded ones, and asks me which I would choose for her.
Beatrice joins me near the garden wall, carrying a sample strip she has kept through most of the afternoon.
"The bergamot blend." She holds up one of the sample strips from my trials. "You've layered it with something I can't quite place."
"Cedar." I recognize the number on her strip. "Atlas cedar, to ground the brightness."
"It works." She sets down the strip and fixes me with her gaze.
"You've always had this talent, Serafina.
Even before you married my son, I could see it.
The way you understood scent, the patience you brought to your formulas.
I'm glad you're finally letting the rest of the world see what I've known for years. "
"Thank you." I reach for her free hand. She helped me pack when I could barely bear to look around my bedroom. Now she's here for this, too, pleased for me without asking for anything in return.
"Don't thank me." She squeezes my hand before releasing it. "Just keep making beautiful things. That's thanks enough."
She moves away to speak with my mother, and I find myself scanning the terrace for Rafael. He's near the drinks table, helping Nadia settle into a chair while an older man from town hovers nearby with an empty glass.
"Sit, sit." Rafael pulls out the chair and waits for Nadia to lower herself into it. "You've been on your feet for an hour. The almonds aren't going anywhere."
"I'm not fragile." But she sits anyway, drawing the chair closer to the table. "Your wife's samples are impressive, by the way. I've found two I want, which seems excessive."
"She'll be pleased to hear that." Rafael pours juice from a ceramic pitcher and hands her a glass. "I'm afraid I liked all three."
"Well, you're married to the perfumer. You have to be diplomatic." Nadia takes the juice and peers at him over the rim. "You look less like someone carrying the weight of the whole island, by the way. It's an improvement."
The older man laughs, lifting the pitcher from beside Rafael. "You're getting off lightly. She told me last week I needed a haircut."
"Did you listen?" Rafael takes the pitcher from him and fills his glass before setting it down.
"He did." Nadia tips her glass toward the man's neatly trimmed head. "And you can stop pretending this was your idea."
Rafael laughs, and the older man rubs the back of his neck, defeated. I have to press my lips together to keep from joining in before I reach them.
Rafael stays while the man tells him about his grandson, leaning against the table to listen. He doesn't search the terrace for someone more important to speak to. I like him here, with his sleeves pushed up and a little juice splashed on his cuff, enjoying himself.
I cross to where he's standing and slip my hand into his. He looks down at me, surprised and pleased, his fingers tightening around mine.
"Having fun?" I slip between him and the table, stealing his attention for a moment.
"More than I expected." He glances at Nadia, who is now interrogating the older man about his olive trees. "She asked me if you've finally knocked sense into my head. I told her you were working on it."