Amalfi, 1953
The sun was high in the sky, and Celina had shed her light jacket to feel its warmth on her shoulders. She had been riding for a couple of hours, exploring the countryside, trying to get the maddening exchange with Lauro out of her mind. He was easily the most insufferable man she knew. What made him think he had the right to touch her with such intimate implications? She slowed her mare and paused, glancing around the unfamiliar landscape.
She’d torn out of the orchard with no sense of direction, blinded by fury and consumed with Lauro’s inexplicable action and what he’d charged her with. One grove had led to another, then another. She rubbed her knuckles across her horse’s neck, anger over his action and her reaction tightening her chest. “Where are we, girl?”
Stopping by the stream she’d been following, she led her horse to the trickling water. She dismounted, and while her horse drank, she took in her surroundings. A smaller villa loomed behind her, shrouded by olive trees and lacy, pink bougainvillea flowers.
Squatting by the stream, she rinsed her hands in the cool water and ran them over her heated face and lips. How could Lauro have imagined that she would’ve given him permission to kiss her? Even though he stopped himself at the last possible moment. He’s crazy, she thought, resting her haunches on her heels.
Most of the people she’d observed in Italy were more demonstrative than in the United States. Tony certainly had been. Here, kisses on the cheek were expected among family and friends. Her mother had been affectionate, so she was accustomed to it.
But a kiss on the lips still meant something else to her.
Tony. The last man she’d kissed. Occasionally she’d found herself wondering if there would ever be another. But she was in no hurry. Taking her time would be best for her son, too. Right now, she was better off alone. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, shivering from the coolness of the stream.
It’s lonely, though. Glancing around, the trees seemed to close in on her. Loneliness. Why was she even thinking about this? She splashed cold water on her face again and again, as if the brisk coolness could clear her mind of all that had transpired today and in the past six months.
Suddenly, the vines behind her rustled, startling her. Had Lauro followed her? With every nerve in her body on high alert, she jerked around ready to fight.
“Celina?” Adele stepped toward her with a curious look on her face. “What are you doing here?”
Relieved to see Tony’s cousin, she let out a small laugh. “Guess I got a little lost.”
“You poor thing.” Adele embraced her and pressed her cheeks to hers. “Come inside. I just made limonata. You look like you need to rest. We’ll eat, too.”
Relief coursed through her, and Celina realized how hungry she was. Guiding her horse, she walked alongside Adele.
“You can leave your horse here,” Adele said, taking the reins and looping them over a wooden post. “At least Lauro gave you the gentle one.” She ran her hand along the horse’s neck, and the horse whinnied in greeting.
Inside, Adele led her to the kitchen, which was decorated with a cozy riot of cookware, flowers, and books. From a rack above a hulking stove hung copper pots rubbed until they shone. A tomato sauce simmered on the stove—a gravy, she corrected herself, as Tony had always done. The aroma brought back a memory of the first time he had ever cooked for her.
“Have a seat,” Adele said, motioning toward a table in the center of the kitchen. “Werner has gone into town. It’s too quiet when he’s away. I’m glad you’re here.”
Gingerly, Celina eased onto the worn wooden chair. She rubbed a sore muscle in her hip and asked, “How far am I from the Villa Savoia?”
Adele laughed as she poured lemonade into tall frosted glasses she’d taken from the icebox. “Not too far by car, but you had a good ride.” She garnished the glasses with sprigs of fresh basil and brought them to the table. She cocked her head and added, “I’m surprised you went off on your own.”
Celina felt her face flush. If she confided Lauro’s wretched behavior to Adele, would she believe her? She was beginning to think the Savoia family may indeed be more complicated than she’d imagined, and the last thing she wanted was to compromise her son’s relationship with his grandparents. But maybe Adele knew about the rift between Tony and his family. “I started off with Lauro.”
“And what happened? Did he leave you?” Adele asked, her voice registering dismay.
“No, I was so eager to explore that I took off, and we became separated.” Part of that was true, anyway. She wanted to get to know Adele better before denigrating her cousin—though he deserved it. Adele and Lauro seemed as close as siblings. Their mothers were sisters, and all the children had grown up together.
“I can’t imagine he let you get away.”
“I hardly gave him a chance.” Celina sipped her lemonade, thankful for the cool, icy drink. “But then, I don’t think he cares much for me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He’s always challenging me.”
Adele stirred her limonata thoughtfully. “Lauro has been under a lot of pressure to help Carmine and Sara rebuild and expand the chocolate enterprise. They feel the responsibility to provide jobs in our community, but they lost nearly everything during the war, too. Except for their land and their spirit.” She brightened. “Sara tells me you might stay. I hope so. Is that true?”
“Sara and Carmine have been so generous, but if I stay, I need to find work, too.”
“You could work at the chocolate factory. I’m sure Lauro could use your help.”
Anything but that. Celina shook her head. “Actually, I’ve always wanted to have my own chocolaterie. I have some savings I can use to get started.” She still had the money she’d made on the house. It wasn’t a lot, certainly not enough to start a shop in San Francisco, but right now, due to the exchange rate, her money might go farther here in Italy.
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t touch her little nest egg except for something that would help secure their future. From working at the chocolaterie in San Francisco she’d learned a lot about how to run a business, and she certainly knew her craft. Celina was as ready as she ever would be to start a business. She glanced out the window, taking in the stunning view of nature’s bounty against a mountainous backdrop.
Why not here? She could dream, anyway. Clasping her hands, Celina leaned toward Adele. “Do you know of a good area for a chocolaterie?”
“Then you’d stay?” Adele brushed her dark hair from her face, excitement glittering in her eyes.
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s so pretty here.” The idea began to take root in her mind.
“There’s a vacant space next to my fashion boutique in Amalfi in the Piazza del Duomo, the main street near the cathedral. It would be so much fun to have you there.”
The Duomo. That was the lovely Sant’Andrea cathedral in the heart of the village that rose sixty steps above the piazza. She’d been enthralled by the Byzantine façade and the soaring interior.
It was a perfect location. “Do you think it’s expensive?”
Adele shook her head. “I don’t think so. The shop needs work. Oh, Sara would be so happy if you stayed. Imagine what Nino would have thought, too. I’m sure he would have been so pleased to know that you and his son are here.”
“Really?” Celina quickly glanced up. She doubted that, but Adele’s expression seemed so genuine. Had she known about the disagreement Tony had with his family? “How was Tony—Nino—when you knew him?”
A far-away look settled over Adele. “He was such a good soul.”
Celina nodded. “Did he seem different to you?”
“Different?” Adele intoned.
“From Lauro and his parents, I mean.”
“Nino was always...” Adele’s voice trailed off as she seemed to search for the right word. “Distracted, I guess. I’m not surprised he left. He inherited the wanderlust of our ancestors, ancient mariners who sailed the world in search of silk and spices. Amalfi was a crucial trading port, dating back centuries into antiquity.” She laughed softly. “How Nino loved to sail. Oh, the fun we had, sailing to Capri with our families, skiing in the Alps.”
Celina grew quiet while Adele reminisced about their childhood. She hadn’t known any of this. Tony had never told her about skiing or sailing. But then, one of his legs often bothered him. Shrapnel, he’d told her. That was why he never danced. No wonder he hadn’t mentioned skiing. He’d probably lost the ability. Her heart clenched at the thought. Since she’d been here, discovering Tony’s old life, she realized how much he’d left behind and how much he’d been through since. He’d been forced to become a different person.
“Do you sail?” Adele was smiling at her.
Pulling herself back to the present, Celina sipped her lemonade. “No, but Tony loved to watch the sailboats in the San Francisco bay. We’d have picnics on the shore on Sundays.”
Adele looked surprised. “He didn’t sail anymore?”
“His leg had been injured. His balance wasn’t as good as it could have been.” Would that have mattered? When Adele looked confused, Celina added, “We didn’t have the money for a sailboat. We’d been saving to buy our house, and after we bought it, we put a lot of money into making it a home.”
Adele sighed. “I guess we all grew up.” She leaned on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. “He was a good man, but you know that. I feel so sorry for you.”
Celina blinked back emotion. “We loved each other a great deal.”
Stretching her hand across the table, Adele smoothed her hand over Celina’s. “We all miss him.”
“So do we.” Celina took another drink, swallowing hard against the lump that had formed in her throat.
She peered at Adele, whose dark eyes were filled with compassion and framed with long, inky lashes. What a beautiful woman she was, inside and out. Celina had to understand what had happened here with Tony. If not, whatever it was could shade her son’s relationship with his grandparents and other family members.
“Adele, do you know anything about an argument my husband had with his family?”
Parting her lips as if to speak, Adele caught herself and shook her head. “Would it matter now?”
“It might to my son.”
Casting her gaze down, Adele seemed to consider this but only shook her head again.
“Did it have to do with Lauro?”
Adele drew in a breath. “Celina, really, that was such a long time ago.” She half-rose from her chair.
Celina gripped Adele’s hand. The woman knew something, and it would haunt Celina until she found out.
“Sara and Carmine couldn’t have been more welcoming to Marco and me, but Lauro is a mystery. As a mother, my main concern is for my son. You understand, yes?”
“Of course,” Adele said softly.
“Whatever concerned Tony—Nino, might also affect his son. If we were to stay here, would my son hear of this from someone else? Would it hurt him? If so, please tell me so that I can be prepared.”
Adele raked her teeth over her lower lip, hesitating.
“My son has suffered enough from being blindsided by tragedy.” Celina moved closer. “As for me, you won’t hurt my feelings. Nothing can possibly hurt any more than I have already suffered.”
“I think you are stronger than you look, yes?”
Celina nodded, willing her on.
Adele shifted with unease in her chair. “It was so many years ago, but I don’t think Lauro and Nino ever forgave each other.”
What had Sara said? Lauro is still grieving. Clutching Adele’s hand, she asked, “Did the argument have to do with Isabella?”
Adele’s gaze darted away. “Then you know.”
“Sara only mentioned her name.”
As she watched Adele pick at a loose thread on her dress, a question she hated to even think of formed in her mind, yet she had to ask. If she were to stay here, she had to know what was behind Lauro’s treatment of her.
Celina drew a breath and tried to imagine her husband as a young man, long before they’d met. Tony, Lauro, Isabella…
A thought crept into Celina’s mind. “Was my husband in love with Isabella?”