and can have visitors. Then you can fly down and have a serious talk with him.”
The situation had gone from bad to worse. “Thank you for watching over him. I’m indebted to you.”
“Bless you for saving Tuccia’s life. What will you do about the chef position now?”
Right now Cesare’s concern over the princess had created the most stress for him. “That’s not your problem. I’ll just have to be the pastry chef myself and interview more applicants for the position. But let’s agree that finding someone who knows how to make Sicilian desserts with an expertise close to his or yours will be an endeavor in futility.”
“You make the best cassatine with almond paste in existence.”
“I learned from you, but that was years ago.”
“You never forget, but I’m desolate for you this has happened. What will Tuccia do? Did she talk to you about it during the flight?”
“Yes. She has a plan that might work.” For a day maybe. “I’ll think of something. Don’t you worry about it. Have you told Bertina her niece is safe?”
“I drove to the palazzo to tell her in person and give her Tuccia’s letter before returning to the hospital. She was so relieved she broke down sobbing before burning it.”
Good thinking on Bertina’s part. “Have the police questioned her yet?”
“Yes. She told them she knew nothing.”
“They’ll be contacting anyone who is friends with her, especially her cook. You’ll be receiving a visit soon. Don’t talk to her on the phone.”
“No worry. I’m at the hospital now and just finished reading Tuccia’s sweet letter to me before burning it.” He had a brilliant mother. “Thanks to your willingness to help the princess escape so fast, there’s no evidence she was ever at the villa, and of course I know nothing.” He chuckled in spite of his concern for her. “Stay in close touch with me.”
“Haven’t I always? Take care of yourself, Mamma.”
“You, too. I’ll talk to you later. Dio di benedica, Cesare.”
After they hung up, he told the limo driver to take him to the main express mail outlet in Milan. Asking him to wait, he went in to have Tuccia’s letter to the comte couriered overnight to Cesare’s attorney. Rudy Goldman always spent this time of year at his retreat in Barbados. Inside the mailing envelope he put the following instructions.
Rudy.
Put a stamp on this and send it airmail immediately.
Many thanks,
Cesare.
His attorney was the soul of discretion and always did what he was told without question. When Cesare had addressed the mailing envelope, he paid the clerk who put it in the slot. Before long it would be on its way to Bridgetown. The comte needed to receive it ASAP. Cesare knew in his gut the other man would start a search for his fiancée.
She was a prize. No one knew that better than Cesare. His thoughts wandered. Not every man would be worthy of her love when she had an ancestry that had made her unique in the world. Certainly not Cesare, whose family tree might as well have half a trunk missing. What could a fatherless man bring to a marriage with a princess?
Depressed by his thoughts, he returned to the limo and told the driver to take him back to the pensione. It was the same apartment where Vincenzo’s wife Gemma had once stayed when she’d come from Florence to the castello for an interview. The padrona could be trusted.
By the time the limo pulled up in front, Cesare had made up his mind to send Tuccia to the States in the morning. The police wouldn’t find her there and he could put her out of his mind. She was on it too much already.
He got out to the pay the driver, then walked to the front door of her apartment and knocked loud enough for her to hear. “Tuccia? It’s Cesare. May I come in?”
“You haven’t left for Palermo yet?” she called out in surprise. “I’ll be right there.”
In less than a minute she opened the door in bare feet, dressed in the yellow silk robe she’d worn in the middle of the night. He could smell the peach shampoo she’d used to wash her hair. She had a brush in one hand and had been styling her naturally curly black hair.
The sight of such natural beauty would make any man go weak in the knees. Cesare was no exception. “I had a call from my mother and have been forced to change my plans.”
“Uh-oh.” Anxiety marred her features. He knew what she was thinking.
“Forgive me for making you stand there. Please come in.”
Her faultless manners impressed him. “Thank you.” He walked in the little living room off the kitchen.
She eyed him nervously. “Did the police interrogate her already? Is she in terrible trouble?” Tuccia put the hand not holding the brush to her heart. “Bertina should never have involved your mother and I shouldn’t have listened to her.”
“So far everything is all right. The police talked to your aunt who told them she knew nothing. I’m sure my mother will be next, but she’ll have no information, either. They both received your letters.”
“I’m so glad. Then why have you changed your plans? I don’t understand. But before you tell me, let me get dressed. Please sit down. I’ll only be a minute.”
He chose the chair by the coffee table while she rushed to her bedroom. Cesare caught a fleeting glimpse of her long shapely legs beneath the flap of her robe before she disappeared. He was growing more enamored of her by the second.
How could it be that after all the years of working with attractive businesswomen, he found himself in trouble just being in her presence for a few hours total. Along with her attributes, her utter femininity blew him away. It was a good thing she’d be gone tomorrow so there’d be no temptation to spend any extra time with her.
IN NO TIME Tuccia reappeared wearing a pair of white slacks and sandals toned with a café-au-lait-and-white print short-sleeved top. She sat on the end of the couch with one leg tucked under her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“As you know, the Sicilian pastry chef I’d planned to hire is in the hospital. But there’s no telling when he’ll be well enough to work again. Mamma found out he has developed an unexpected heart condition. I had high hopes for him. With his exciting creations, he would have brought a new clientele to our ristorante. Except for my mother’s cooking, there’s no one to equal him.”
Tuccia sat forward with a troubled look on her lovely face. “My zia says she’s the most superb cook in all Sicily. That means she has to know what she is talking about. What will you do?”
“Since I’m in charge of the ristorante at the castello, I’m the only one who has the authority to fix the problem. In an emergency, there are times when you have to do it yourself.”
