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They were the immortal diamond.
As morning light filtered through her window, Sabina rose with a smile on her face. She had fallen asleep with her rosary still clutched in her fingers, not exactly praying, just…basking in the peace that had enveloped her on the stoop with Lorenzo. Sweet images had filled her dreams that she couldn’t have put to words. Everything looked different now. She was more aware than ever of how small her spark of life was in the darkness of the world. But she was also more aware that it only took one spark to dispel the darkness. Somehow, she and Enzo could make a difference in their families. They didn’t have to fight them. They could just hold the light.
The peace buoyed her as she dressed, combed the night’s rag curls into waves, and tied her shoes. She practically floated down the stairs, into the kitchen. She exchanged a Sicilian greeting with Cook and poured herself some coffee.
Then Mama snapped into the kitchen like a live wire. “There you are. What have you been doing up there when you know we have so much to get done?”
Sabina nearly choked on her sip of coffee. She hadn’t seen that look on Mama’s face in ages. “Just getting ready. I thought I would help Cook today.” She motioned to the counters overflowing with pastries for breakfast, pastas in varying stages of readiness for upcoming meals, sauces both completed and their composite ingredients waiting to be blended, meats and cheeses ready to be combined into a feast.
The sad thing was, none of it was for the wedding itself—it was still too early to cook for that—but just to feed the steady river of family that had been pouring in every day. The cousins and aunts all claimed to be coming to help, but more often than not they just got in the way and offered advice that no one had any intention of taking.
Mama glared at her. “You will not be in the kitchen today. Cook can handle everything. That’s what we pay her for, isn’t it? We have to go to the florist’s to discuss your bouquet, you need to get your hair trimmed, your veil and headdress still need to be made, and I need you to try your gown on again so we can decide what jewelry you’re going to wear. Fran wants you to wear her pearls, but they would need to be restrung. Maybe we can substitute the ones your father gave me last year and she wouldn’t notice.”
Sabina sipped her coffee, fighting for calm. “Okay. The florist and barber then. I’ll be ready to go in just a minute.” She picked up a cornettu and sank her teeth into it, closing her eyes in delectation as the jam and chocolate inside the croissant mixed on her tongue.
When she opened her eyes again, Mama was frowning. “You’ve been eating too many sweets. I don’t want to have to get you a new corset just to fit into your gown.”
Was it too late to retreat back into the peaceful sanctuary of her room? She sighed and considered her croissant. “I can’t just waste it—but I won’t have any more sweets today, I promise.” Her corset fit just fine, but it wasn’t worth the argument.
Mama grunted. “Bring it with you, then. Let’s go. I need to pick up some more saracena for Cook, too.”
Forfeiting her coffee with a sigh, Sabina followed her mother out to where the Pierce-Arrow sat waiting. Twenty minutes later, they were settled in at the flower shop, one of their bodyguards on his way home with the olive oil for Cook. They spent an hour poring over sketches and photographs, settling on a bouquet that cost as much as the silk for her dress. And that wasn’t including the blooms for her headpiece and bridesmaids.
Mama tapped a fingertip to her lip. “I suppose Cat and Izzy both need a bouquet, too. Although why you insisted on two witnesses—we only ever had one in Sicily.”
Sabina sighed, repeating the refrain she and Lorenzo had been doling out left and right, it seemed. “We’re not in Sicily, Mama.”
Mama ignored her, just as she always did. “Well, there’s no help for it. We’ll make them match, I suppose. Keep them simple.”
Since agreeing seemed the easiest course of action, that’s what Sabina did. They finally left the florist’s and headed for the barbershop, where Mama elbowed her way through the line of long-tressed girls awaiting a bob, insisting they had an appointment.
Sabina knew well that in this case her “appointment” was little more than name recognition. When Mama said, “Miss Mancari is here,” no one dared to object.
She couldn’t wait until she was Mrs. Capecce instead. No more people starting in fear whenever they heard her name, no bodyguards shadowing them… Sabina offered an apologetic smile to the young ladies waiting in line. “Mama, let’s wait our turn.”
Mama scoffed. “We haven’t got all day! Besides, you’re getting married in a week. I’m sure all these girls understand how busy you are. Isn’t that right, girls?”
A chorus of affirmatives rang out, though whether out of sincerity or intimidation was anyone’s guess. Sabina sighed and took a seat in the barber’s chair, looking at the older gentleman who draped a cape over her. “Just a trim,” she said.
“A very small trim.” Mama took up her general’s stance by the mirror, scowl in place. “No shorter than necessary to look well groomed. Your grandmother will have a fit as it is. You know how she liked it long.”
Pressing her lips together seemed like the best response. Yet another argument that wasn’t worth having.
Within minutes the barber had shaped up her hair and had a handsome tip in hand, and they left again. The car had barely made it a block when Mama ordered it to stop. Sabina looked around, wondering what they had to do now. Her confusion didn’t lessen as Mama pulled her into a furniture store to a display of buffets.
“Which do you like? The mahogany? The cherry?”
Another sigh swelled up, and she barely repressed it. “Mama, they’re both lovely, but we don’t have room in the apartment for something like that.”
“Of course not.” Mama waved a hand at her. “But the house will be practically bare. Enzo has so little.”
Sabina trailed behind as Mama headed for a section with tables. “House?”
“The Horowitz family just moved from that lovely stone townhouse down the street, so your father snatched it up. He wants it to be a surprise, but I knew you’d want to choose your own furnishings.”
So he’d just bought it? Without even letting them see it first? What if they didn’t want the Horowitzes’ house? What if they wanted something closer to Birdwell, Stein & Associates? What if she’d been looking forward to sharing that cozy little apartment with her groom for a while first, putting all the old connections behind them? “Mama, we don’t need a house right now.”
“It’s done, cara.” Mama pursed her lips. “I think we’ll go with cherry all round. Make it all match. It’ll complement your china perfectly.”
