Clara was getting dressed in jeans and a pink cotton top with three-quarter sleeves, Bianca, who was barely pregnant again, walked in the bedroom carrying her six-month-old boy. “Mamma wants to know how you’re feeling this morning.”
“I’m fine,” Clara murmured as she slipped into her sandals. “How’s my little Paolito today?” The little boy was old enough now that when she gave him kisses on his tummy, he laughed out loud. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” She kissed his tender neck.
“He loves his zia more.”
Together they walked down the hall of the small stone farmhouse to the kitchen where the family ate all their meals. It used to bulge at the seams, but these days it was home to Clara, her parents and grandmother on her mother’s side who lived on the main floor. Because of a stroke, the ninety-one-year-old woman was in a wheelchair. Bianca and Silvio lived upstairs with their spouses and children.
The other married siblings and extended family lived in homes on the outskirts of Monta Correnti. Now when they gathered for meals three times a day, there were only twelve at their noisy table.
Her father cast her an anxious glance. “Ah, good. You’re up.”
Clara kissed him on top of his balding head. “I’m up and hungry.” She turned to her mother, who waited on everyone. “I’ll get my own breakfast. Sit down, Mamma. You work too hard.”
“No, no. You must preserve your strength.”
“I have plenty of strength this morning.”
“That’s good to hear. Now you sit and eat!”
“Yes, Mamacita.” She took her place across from Silvio, smiling secretly at his three children aged seven, five and three who giggled to hear their nonna get mad at her.
Silvio’s pregnant wife, Maria, darted her a friendly glance. “You look better this morning.”
“I feel good enough to run the stand today.” She drank the freshly squeezed orange juice waiting for her.
“Absolutely not!” Silvio barked, so overprotective of her these days she felt smothered.
“Do you think you should?” her anxious mother questioned as she put the hot omelet in front of her. Her devoted mother who did the work of a dozen people went out of her way to make certain she was well fed.
“Of course I do. Thank you, Mamma.”
“Are you telling us the truth?”
“If I weren’t, I would stay in bed.” Clara was getting desperate and wanted to scream, but only because everyone was so good to her and worried about her continually. More than anything she hated being a burden, yet within the last three months that was what she’d become to her hard-working family.
“So you really feel up to it?” Her father stared hard at her.
“Sì, Papa,” she answered in a controlled voice. “Some days I wake up feeling worse than others. Right now I feel good and want to do my part around here on the days when I can.”
His eyes grew suspiciously bright before he nodded. “Then it’s settled.”
Grazie, she murmured inwardly, but Silvio set his mug of coffee down too hard, telling everyone his opinion. He was the sibling who stifled her most with his concern. As a result, he was the most difficult member of the family to be around.
The hot liquid splashed on the table. Maria told seven-year-old Pasquale to run and get a cloth for his father. While the mess was getting cleaned up, Bianca’s husband, Tomaso, walked in the back door in his overalls. He’d been out early setting up the fruit stand for Clara before doing his own work.
His gaze shot straight to Clara. “You’ve got a visitor.” By his awestruck countenance, it told her this was no ordinary person.
“Who is it?” She struggled to keep herself calm, already anticipating the answer with far too much excitement.
“Valentino Casali. He’s driving the latest Ferrari 599.”
Amidst the audible gasps, Silvio jumped to his feet, letting go with a few colorful expletives their household hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Basta!” their father admonished him.
“Clara hasn’t had anything to do with him in years, Papa. He’s no good and he’s not welcome on our farm. I don’t want him here!” Silvio muttered angrily.
Aghast at her brother’s venom, Clara felt a sudden feeling of weakness attack her body, but she fought not to show any vulnerability. She’d thought of course Valentino had only come to Monta Correnti for a few days and might even have left Italy as early as this morning.
In all the years growing up, he’d never once come to the farmhouse to see her for any reason. Every time he’d given her a ride home on the scooter on his way to the lake, she’d insisted on getting off once they reached the road leading into the farm.
“I’ll go outside and see what he wants.” Out of necessity she’d brushed him off too abruptly at the bus stop yesterday. Since then she’d been suffering guilt…and also regret for missing out on spending more time with him. There was no one like him! Because she’d teased him about not visiting her once in the last nine years, he’d probably decided to stop and say goodbye on his way out of town.
While everyone was reeling from the shock of their hometown celebrity showing up here, she rose from the table and walked out the back door. After rounding the corner of the house she spied the black super-car parked further down the drive.
Valentino levered himself from the front seat and strolled toward her, wearing bone-colored chinos and a black, open-necked sport shirt. He looked so fantastic she could hardly swallow. His sensuous mouth curved into a half-smile. “Buon giorno, Clarissima! Forgive me for coming by this early?”
Her assumption had been right. He was on the verge of leaving.
His eyes lingered on her soft curves before scrutinizing her from her sandaled feet to the roots of her hair. It didn’t surprise her. Three years ago she and Bianca had finally taken off the weight that had plagued them most of their lives.
The diet plan she’d chosen had been part of an article by a film star featured in a celebrity magazine with a photograph of her and Valentino on the front cover. A section had been dedicated to the woman who had claimed to stay thin on the prescribed regimen and swore by it. Naturally there were no pictures of fat girls inside the pages of that magazine or any others.
For some reason seeing Valentino smiling at the slender beauty who’d kept her weight off had annoyed Clara. Out of anger she had started dieting and Bianca had joined her. Once they began to see results, they became local wonders for a while, but now everyone was used to the way they looked, except for Valentino, of course.
“There’s nothing to forgive. You know we’re a farming family, up with the sun.”
His expression sobered. “I could have called your house, but thought I might have more luck talking to you if I came in person.”
She
