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“Those big noisy meals keep the generations tight.”
“I can’t even imagine.” Jillian had been raised without an extended family. Her mother’s family had cut her off after she married Jillian’s father against their wishes. Her father had been an only son and he’d left home at eighteen to make his fortune in the big city. He’d never bothered to introduce his wife and or children to his parents, even though they only lived six hours south of Detroit. “I don’t even know if I have cousins and I’ve never met my grandparents.”
“Are they still alive?”
“I don’t know.” She made a small sound, a hiccup of laughter tinged by frustration. “I believe both my grandmothers and one of my grandfathers might still be alive, but they were never part of our life.”
“Why not?”
She smiled up at Vitt’s kitchen staff for refilling her coffee. “I don’t know for sure but I think my father had a big ego and far too much pride. I think my mother, having lost her parents when she married my father against their wishes, was terrified of losing my father so she supported him on everything, which meant we didn’t see grandparents, we didn’t do big family holidays. It was always just us, the four of us, Mom, Dad, Katie and me.”
“Where does she live?”
“She’s…she’s—” Jillian broke off, looked away, unable to finish the thought. Gone. Katie’s gone. Everything in Jillian’s life seemed to be about the past. Past tense. Past self. Past life. What she needed was new. What she needed was a future. “Dead. She died. A couple years ago. Katie was only twenty-one.”
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him, the pain in her eyes giving away far more than she knew. “I am, too.”
Vittorio watched Jill’s expression as she talked about her family. Emotions flickered over her face and yet the expression in her eyes never changed. Her eyes revealed grief. Total loss.
“I do think we need to make an effort to include your parents in our wedding. If we set the ceremony for a week from today—next Saturday—we should have plenty of time to invite them and arrange their travel,” he said. “Should we place a call to them before dinner? We can make it a conference call, get everyone on the line.”
She took a quick sip from her coffee cup. “I don’t know if they’ll be around. They might be away…traveling.”
“I thought you said they didn’t like to travel.”
“They don’t like to fly. Or travel far.”
He smiled at her kindly. “You seem nervous. Why would you be nervous?”
“I’m not. I’m just…” she struggled to smile with quivering lips “…overwhelmed. Weddings and castles and change. There’s just been a lot of change, Vittorio. I confess, my head is spinning.”
“I think you just need something to focus on, like picking out flowers and cake and a bridal gown for the ceremony. My mother is handling the guest list. I will take care of the dinner. You just need to select your gown, music, favorite colors, that sort of thing.”
She’d been the one to suggest a formal wedding. She’d been the one to say they needed something public to cement their relationship but suddenly it all seemed very risky. “We’re not thinking a big wedding, are we? Just something small, intimate and elegant?”
“I might be wrong, but I believe the guest list has gotten rather extensive. Since Catania is a small place, everyone knows everyone and it was hard for my mother to limit the guest list. But we can try to keep the church ceremony small and invite everyone else to the party after.”
Jillian felt increasingly queasy as he talked. Why had she suggested another ceremony? Why hadn’t she realized that it could end up big, which would end up attracting a great deal of attention? “Perhaps we should postpone the ceremony a little longer, give us more time to plan.”
“With everyone pitching in, a week will give us more than enough time—” He broke off as his mother approached and got to his feet to pull a chair out for her at the table. “Good morning, Mother,” he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “You have perfect timing. We were just talking about the plans for next Saturday.”
“Have you told her about the appointments with the designers?” Theresa asked him, dropping into a chair at the table and crossing one leg over the other. This morning Theresa wore an ivory pantsuit with gold buttons and delicate chains. Her heels were very high, accenting her fashionably slim figure.
“I haven’t heard yet,” Jillian said, with a glance down at her own uninspiring navy slacks and navy-and-cream striped top. She felt so dowdy next to Vitt’s mother, and knew it really was time for a wardrobe update. Less matronly clothes. More stylish and form-fitting.
“You will be meeting with three of our top Italian designers later,” Theresa said smoothly. “One arrived last night, two are flying in from Milan this morning. They will each meet with you for a half hour and then work up a design. Each designer will have a sketch to show you before they leave tomorrow. You get to select your favorite gown and then the winning design will be made this week in time for the ceremony next Saturday.”
Jillian’s eyes grew round. “That sounds incredibly extravagant.”
“It’s an extravagant ceremony,” Theresa replied sharply, “but that’s what I understood you wanted.”
Jillian turned to Vittorio. “I didn’t say I wanted an expensive wedding. And I certainly don’t need three different designers flying in to work up three different designs for me to choose from. One designer would have been more than sufficient!”
He shrugged. “You did say you wanted a beautiful dress.”
“Yes, but even an off-the-rack gown can be beautiful.”
