Marialena tweaks her nose. “She has a tutor, don’t you, baby? You coming with us shopping today?” She shakes her head and pushes her chair out when she sees Orlando. “Uncle Orlando!” she screams from her seat. She jumps up so fast she knocks over her chair and almost takes out Nonna, who’s standing behind her with a large, beautiful platter of fruit salad which drops to the floor.
Nonna mutters in Italian and waves her off. I bend to help her, and when we’re both cleaning up the mess, she leans close to me to whisper, “Bring these your husband.” She holds a small paper bag folded over at the top. “His favorite. He like. Men ruled by the belly.”
She stands, and I grip the bag in surprise, but she only leaves the room, tidying as she goes.
Natalia does a running leap at Orlando, who swings her up into his arms and gives her a big kiss on the cheek. I forget they haven’t seen him in a while. “Ah, Natalia. You look so grown up. I see you’ve met my lovely wife, your new aunt?”
Ugh, it feels so wrong deceiving a child.
She nods. “You did good, Uncle. She’s so pretty.”
His eyes twinkle at me from across the room.
“Thank you. But you be careful jumping up from the chair, Natalia. You almost knocked Nonna over. You must not do that again.”
She nods her head eagerly.
I can’t help but notice how natural he looks with her in his arms, how the way he corrects her is firm but gentle. She’s obviously close to him and happy to have him home. My heart gives a little squeeze.
“He was always the gentlest, you know,” Marialena says thoughtfully, as she plunks a sugar cube into her espresso and gives it a little stir.
“Orlando?”
She nods. “Yeah. He hated violence and gory things. Would hide his face during violent movies. And believe it or not he was always the one that kept me out of trouble.”
I nod, imagining a younger Orlando. “He’s so serious now. So stern, isn’t he?”
She looks at him thoughtfully as she sips her coffee. “He is. But he’s been through a lot.” With a sigh, she looks over my shoulder. “We all have. It’s changed us, really.”
“I understand.” But do I, really? I decide to go for broke. “Marialena, can I ask you a question?”
Vittoria looks at both of us curiously.
“Actually, both of you.”
They both focus on me. “Go on,” Vittoria says. “Now’s a good time.”
“Maybe you’d know best,” I say to her. “If you were…arranged to be married to a man you’d never met.” I sigh. “How would you…get him to…like you?”
Marialena folds her hands on the table, leans across it, and speaks frankly. “You mean, how do you get him to fall in love when he hardly knows you?”
Vittoria laughs. “Ah. The million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
“Maybe literally for you,” Marialena snorts.
“Hey!” Vittoria playfully swats at her.
“Okay, you two need to fill me in on that one.”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Vittoria says with a smile. “So how do you get him to love you? Well, that’s simple. First, have you noticed how much these men love food?”
I look over to see Orlando’s loaded a platter of pastries, eggs, and sausage on his plate, and as I watch he slaps at Mario’s hand when Mario goes to take the last piece of bacon. Mario gives him a good-natured grin, gestures for Orlando to take the bacon, then ducks and swipes a sausage from Orlando’s plate before he runs at full speed for the door. Doesn’t stop Orlando, though. Orlando pushes up from the table, and in two large strides gets Mario by the back of the shirt, shakes him down to get his sausage, then slams him up against the wall to dismiss him.
Tosca mutters in Italian and throws up her hands. I watch them both in wide-eyed wonder.
“Ah, yes. I see what you mean. But I don’t really cook.” For once, I wish I was Elise. The girl can cook.
Vittoria shrugs. “No matter. You don’t have to. Just feed the man.”
Why would that matter? He already has people that do.
Marialena nods. “Yes, I agree. And, you know. Just be yourself. Don’t try to be someone you’re not.”
The words hit harder than I expect.
Don’t try to be someone you’re not.
I know she means them metaphorically, but the truth of my situation sinks deep in my belly. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
Other than pretending to literally be someone I’m not…I’ve been myself.
Still, I can go with this. It may be my one opportunity. “And what if he…what if he doesn’t like who I really am?” The lump in my throat’s the size of my fist.
“Oh, honey,” Marialena says with a charming grin. “What’s not to like about you? He will love you.” Her eyes soften, as she looks over her shoulder. “We all dream of marrying for love, Elise. All of us.” With a sigh, she looks into the distance. “But very few of us manage it. Romeo and Vittoria have, though, haven’t they? Wasn’t right away, though.”