Lake Como (26 page)

“I hope you’re not…” Hallie stammered.

“Thrilled to have another sister.” Marcus got up and walked around the table to Hallie. “I always knew I’d be outnumbered by women in this family.” He pulled her to her feet and hugged her. “I’m delighted.”

Hallie embraced Marcus and Angelica, and finally Portia joined the circle. Hallie glanced at Sophia, afraid her eyes would be like daggers.

Sophia waited for everyone to return to their seats and then she stood up. “I have known that Hallie was Pliny’s daughter for some time. Francesca brought so much grief to this family; I did not want to accept it. But as I look at Hallie across the table I see my mother when she was very young.” Sophia paused. “God has instructed me to open my home and my heart.”

Sophia took a flat jewelry case from her lap and handed it to Hallie. Hallie opened the clasp and gasped. A diamond-and-ruby bracelet lay on a bed of black velvet.

“It belonged to my grandmother, Valentina Bottecci.” Sophia snapped it around Hallie’s wrist. “Now it rests on the arm of another great beauty, Hallie Tesoro.”

Hallie’s legs trembled and she sat down abruptly. She wanted to thank Sophia but her eyes filled with tears. She covered her face with her hands and waited for the sobs to subside.

Marcus stood up and took off his glasses. “I thought I had exciting news, but it seems I’ve been preempted.”

“What news?” Pliny asked.

“Angelica,” Marcus announced, turning to his wife, “is carrying twin girls.”

The room erupted into applause and laughter. Pliny popped another bottle of champagne and refilled everyone’s glasses. Portia and Marcus had a lively discussion about baby names. Angelica smiled like a Cheshire cat, rubbing the huge mound of her stomach.

After Pliny and Marcus went outside to smoke cigars, and Portia and Angelica disappeared upstairs to the nursery, Hallie searched for Sophia. She found her in the salon, laboring over a piece of needlework.

“I am making a pillowcase for the new baby,” Sophia said without looking up. “Now I must make two.”

“I could help,” Hallie offered. “Constance taught me how to do needlework when I was a girl.”

“My eyes see clearly far away.” Sophia nodded. “But sometimes they miss things right in front of them.”

“You didn’t have to give me the bracelet,” Hallie murmured.

“It is my duty to pass on family heirlooms to the next generation,” Sophia said stiffly.

“Well, I…” Hallie stammered. She spun the bracelet around her wrist, wondering whether she should offer to return it.

“It is a duty I am happy to perform.” Sophia put down the needlework and gazed at Hallie. “Pliny is right. You are an accomplished young woman, and a credit to the Tesoro name.”

This time Hallie didn’t let her eyes fill with tears. She picked up the needlework and concentrated on moving the needle through the tiny holes. When she looked up, she thought she saw Sophia’s eyes glistening.

*   *   *

Hallie sat in the front row for the dedication, between Portia and Marcus. Sophia and Pliny stood on a small stage erected for the occasion. Hallie saw Angus and Alfonso milling in the throng. She waved and Angus grinned, giving her a thumbs-up.

Hallie had never seen the piazza so full. Local residents crowded the stage, and tourists stopped to see what was the fuss. Hallie felt like she was in a foreign movie. She smiled and nodded and tried to answer questions asked in rapid Italian.

After the mayor unveiled the statue, Hallie joined Portia and Marcus in a receiving line. Hallie stood under the noon sun, letting strangers shake her hand. She gazed at the bright piazza and thought she had never felt so far from the fog-lined streets of San Francisco.

“I feel like I was at a movie premiere,” Hallie said, sighing, when she and Portia escaped to an outdoor café.

“Wait till you see the party at the villa.” Portia sipped sparkling mineral water. “It will rival any Hollywood affair.”

“I thought it was going to be an intimate dinner,” Hallie said.

“An intimate dinner for two hundred of Sophia and Pliny’s closest friends.” Portia rolled her eyes. “We should go home and take a siesta, it will go on all night.”

“I was going to go to work,” Hallie mumbled. Angus had kissed her quickly after the unveiling and gone back to the Villa Luce.

“Your work today is being a Tesoro,” Portia replied. “We must get our beauty sleep and then make ourselves up like goddesses.”

“I didn’t know being a Tesoro was so demanding,” Hallie said, grinning.

“The masseuse is coming at five o’clock and the makeup artist at six-thirty.” Portia stood up. “We have to select our gowns and jewels. Sophia will want to approve our choices.”

“I can’t wear a Tory Burch dress and Gucci flats?” Hallie followed Portia through the piazza.

“Tonight is your first affair as a Tesoro.” Portia took her hand. “You’re going to look like Catherine de Medici.”

*   *   *

Hallie stood at the top of the stairs, surveying the grand salon. The party was already in full swing. Waiters passed around silver trays of bruschetta and scampi. Flowers had been added to every surface: purple irises, white orchids, and vases of pink and white roses. The smell of women’s perfume wafted up the stairs, filling Hallie’s lungs with a musky scent.

Hallie descended the staircase slowly. Her hair was knotted in a chignon, secured with a diamond chopstick. Her eyes were lined with gold eye shadow and her eyelashes were thick with mascara.

*   *   *

When Portia had shown her the gown, Hallie thought she couldn’t possibly wear it. It was gold chiffon so sheer, it was almost transparent. Hallie had slipped it on, feeling like Venus de Milo rising out of the seashell.

“I’m practically naked.” Hallie had frowned, turning in front of the mirror.

“You’re gorgeous,” Portia had insisted. “We’ll dress it up with jewelry.”

“Shouldn’t I wear something more … covered?”

“This is Lake Como, not the San Francisco Ballet.” Portia had clipped a sapphire pendant around Hallie’s neck. “You’re perfect.”

*   *   *

Gliding down the staircase, Hallie knew Portia was right. The room was full of sleek, glittering evening gowns. Breasts were covered by wisps of silk; legs were exposed by long slits. Hallie had never seen so many ruby necklaces and diamond bracelets. She descended the last step, feeling sexy and exhilarated.

Hallie remembered the party Sophia had held when Hallie arrived. She had felt out of place, a San Francisco debutante in a sea of glamorous Italians. She remembered how Portia had been so miserable over Riccardo, and she still fretted about Peter and Kendra.

Hallie recalled the black-tie events she and Peter had attended: weddings at the Ritz and the Fairmont, symphony galas, parties at Google and Apple. Suddenly she expected to see Peter move through the crowd, carrying an apple martini. She gazed at the men in black tuxedos, and felt an odd, empty feeling in her stomach.

Then she saw Angus walk toward her. He wore a black tuxedo with an ivory silk shirt. His hair was brushed smoothly to one side and his eyes sparkled. He looked tall and handsome and confident.

“You look like Aphrodite.” Angus kissed her cheek.

“I feel naked.” Hallie blushed, trying to erase the images of San Francisco and Peter.

“You’re even more beautiful naked,” Angus murmured. “Let’s get some champagne.”

They drank Dom Pérignon and nibbled caviar balls and lobster tails. Pliny introduced them to old families who had lived in Lake Como for centuries. Hallie’s head spun with long Italian names, meandering family trees, elaborate titles found in nineteenth-century novels.

Portia appeared in a silver gown with a tight bodice. An emerald necklace hung between her breasts and her black hair was coiled around her head. Diamond earrings dangled from her ears and she wore high diamond-encrusted heels.

“The Tesoro women outshine every other female in the room,” Alfonso remarked. He wore a perfectly fitted black tuxedo with a silk handkerchief in the pocket. He gazed at Portia proudly, like an artist admiring his creation.

“It takes hours to create this fantasy.” Portia waved her hand over her dress.

“You are a princess.” Alfonso kissed Portia’s hand. “And I am the luckiest commoner to have you on my arm.”

Hallie watched Portia and Alfonso drift off to the dance floor, and saw Sophia approach. Sophia wore a red satin gown with a high collar and a full skirt. Hallie made a small curtsey and offered Sophia a glass of champagne.

“Drinking is not good for me.” Sophia shook her head. “I don’t want to speed my ascent to the angels.”

“Constance’s doctor won’t let her drink, either,” Hallie replied.

“Portia tells me you haven’t told Constance about your heritage.” Sophia looked at Hallie sharply.

“I will,” Hallie mumbled. “I just haven’t found the right moment.”

“It would not be easy to learn your daughter lies,” Sophia mused.

“Constance had a series of strokes last year.” Hallie twisted the champagne flute in her hand.

“We must not talk about old age and illness at a celebration,” Sophia said abruptly. “Dance and enjoy yourself. We will discuss it later.”

Hallie and Angus walked outside to the black-and-white dance floor. A ten-piece orchestra played beneath the olive trees, and couples glided under paper lanterns. Angus led Hallie to the middle of the floor and placed his hand on her back. He tipped her face up to his and kissed her softly on the lips.

Hallie buried her face in his shoulder and tried to calm her thoughts. She remembered dinners in Constance’s dining room: Louisa’s stuffed game hens and scalloped potatoes. Her mind flashed on Francesca standing in her tiny kitchen, adding rosettes to vanilla icing.

“Hallie,” Angus whispered gently.

“I…” Hallie murmured, blinking back tears.

“You’re crying again.” Angus took her hand and led her off the dance floor. He found a stone bench, and motioned for Hallie to sit beside him.

“When Sophia asked if I’d told Constance that Pliny is my father,” Hallie said, “I realized how much I miss her, and then I thought about Francesca.”

“Maybe it’s time to call Francesca,” Angus suggested.

“I’m still angry at her,” Hallie replied. “She lied my whole life, not just to me but to everybody.”

“Sometimes people lie with the best intentions,” Angus mused. “Give her the chance to explain.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Hallie mumbled.

“I’ll stay with you while you’re on the phone,” Angus offered.

“You’re very persuasive.” Hallie felt Angus’s hand travel down her back. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. They hadn’t made love since the first night, but suddenly she wanted him. Her body melted into his, her breasts crushed against his chest.

“Can I persuade you to take a moonlit boat ride across the lake?” Angus whispered into her hair.

Hallie felt electric shocks prick her skin. She wanted to slip off her heels and run down to the boat dock with Angus. She wanted to unzip her dress and make love under the stars.

“I can’t leave my own party.” Hallie pulled away reluctantly. “Portia said it is my duty to be a Tesoro tonight.”

“I guess that’s what I get for falling in love with a princess,” Angus murmured.

“Angus, I…” Hallie started.

Angus’s eyes were like fireflies in the dark. “I don’t mind if I have to wait one hundred years.”

“We’d be pretty old by then.” Hallie giggled.

“You’re like Sleeping Beauty.” Angus pulled Hallie up. “I can wait for the happy ending.”

*   *   *

Hallie watched women in high heels navigate the gravel driveway. She heard car doors slam and engines start. She climbed the stairs to her room, her head throbbing from the smoke, the music, the endless glasses of champagne.

Portia had gone to bed, claiming a terrible headache. Hallie sat in the salon with Angus, sharing a plate of profiteroles. She replayed his words in her head and wondered what it would be like to fall in love again. She imagined curling up with Angus in the evenings. She pictured waking up together, taking strolls along the promenade. When he finally kissed her good night, she kissed him back hungrily, wanting more.

Hallie opened the door to her bedroom and found Portia curled up on the bed. She had changed into baby-doll pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and her face was free of makeup.

“I thought you went to bed,” Hallie said, slipping off her heels.

“Alfonso had to catch an early flight to Rome,” Portia replied. “I was tired of making conversation.”

“I thought the party would never end.” Hallie took her hair out if its chignon.

“I saw you sitting outside with Angus,” Portia remarked. “It looked serious.”

“Angus said he was falling in love with me,” Hallie murmured.

“What did you answer?” Portia asked.

“I might be falling in love.” Hallie hesitated. “He’s so calm and confident.”

“And he looks dreamy in a tuxedo,” Portia said, giggling. “I saw Alfonso talking to Lorenzo Favio. He owns the finest jewelry store in Milan.”

“A wedding!” Hallie’s eyes sparkled. “You’ll be the most beautiful bride.”

“It wouldn’t be till next summer,” Portia cautioned. “You’d have to promise to be my maid of honor.”

“I’m an expert at weddings,” Hallie said, smiling. “Let me get out of this dress, we can start making lists.”

“You never told me Angus went to Stanford,” Portia called as Hallie hung her dress in the closet.

“He went to college in New Hampshire,” Hallie called back, slipping into a silk robe. She lathered Chanel Rejuvenate on her cheeks, until her skin felt smooth and silky.

“Here’s a picture of him at Stanford.” Portia frowned, handing Hallie a book.

Hallie glanced at the cover. It was the copy of
Paul Johns Unplugged
Peter had left in the hotel room. Hallie looked at the photo of seven young men at a bar. They held mugs of beer and gave a thumbs-up to the camera.

“It can’t be Angus,” Hallie replied.

“It looks exactly like him,” Portia insisted. “He doesn’t look a day older.”

“It can’t be him,” Hallie repeated, flipping the page. She found another photo of the seven men standing in front of a boat. The caption read “Stanford Crew Team Wins Regatta.”