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“Because you buy your clothes off the rack,” Theresa said with a sniff. “If you wore couture, you’d know the difference.”
“But I don’t, and I’m grateful everyone is trying to make the wedding special, but simple is good. Simple can be lovely.” Jillian extended a hand toward Vitt. “We can do simple, can’t we?”
“It’s your wedding,” he said, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. “You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“I thought it was our wedding,” she countered, watching as he ruffled Joe’s dark hair, a gentleness in Vitt’s eyes as he looked at his son.
She’d never seen that expression before. So much tenderness. A look of pure protection.
He really loved Joe, she realized. He truly wanted to be a father.
“It is our wedding,” he answered, “but it’s supposed to be your dream wedding. I don’t care about the particulars as long as you, me and the priest are there.”
Joe was looking up at Vitt now, a gummy smile lighting up his face. Vitt glanced down, caught Joe’s cherubic smile and grinned. “Let me change that to you, me, Joseph and the priest,” Vitt amended, touching Joe’s cheek before walking away.
Jillian watched Vittorio’s back for a moment before realizing Theresa was closely watching her. Blushing faintly beneath her mother-in-law’s scrutiny, Jillian sat taller and turned to face her. “Thank you for your help in arranging everything. I do appreciate it.”
“It was all Vittorio’s doing,” Theresa answered with a careless wave of her hand. “I told him the designers in Catania would do but he has his own ideas. Always has.”
Jillian didn’t know what to say to that and rose to get Joe from his high chair.
“So what do you think of the house?” Theresa asked, clearly determined to fill the silence.
“You have a beautiful home,” Jillian said, sitting down again with Joe on her lap.
“It’s Vittorio’s home. He’s just kind enough to allow us to live in one of the wings here.”
“But I thought the castle had been in the family for nearly a hundred years?”
“It had.” Theresa paused, lips pursed a moment as she chose her words. “My husband experienced a reversal of fortune fifteen years ago. We lost everything, including this place. Vittorio dropped out of university to take a job to help us out. He worked very, very hard. There were a lot of problems and a lot of debt. But six years ago he was able to buy the castle back, along with that beautiful villa in Bellagio.”
Jillian glanced around the sunlight-dappled terrace with the pots of white roses and lavender wisteria. “I had no idea.”
Theresa shrugged. “Vittorio would never tell you something like that. He never takes credit for any of the good things he does—and he does many. But that’s how his father is, too. My husband, Salvatore, never thinks of himself. His family has always come first.”
“It sounds as if you’ve had a good marriage.”
For the first time since meeting her Theresa genuinely smiled. “I couldn’t live without him.” And on that note, she got to her feet and headed back into the house.
Jillian spent some time with Joe, and then when he went down for his morning nap, she met with the first of the three fashion designers.
One of the designers was a woman, the other two were men, and all three were so excessively polite that Jillian wondered what they’d been told by Vittorio.
Each designer took measurements. Two asked her questions about what she’d like in a bridal gown, while the third, one of the men, said he had the perfect design in mind and he’d show her later once he’d completed the sketch.
While the three designers retreated to various wings of the castle, Jillian was summoned to the castle’s large modern kitchen finished in white marble and commercial-grade stainless steel appliances, to meet with a famous pastry chef from New York flown out just to make the wedding cake. The chef had brought samples of six different cake flavors, along with various icings and fillings.
Jillian sampled bite after bite and narrowed the selection down to three—white chocolate cake with a raspberry filling, a butter cake with lemon cream, and chocolate cake with chocolate mousse—but then didn’t want to make the final decision without input from Vittorio. But he’d gone out for the day.
The chef suggested they use all three combinations with each layer of the cake being unique. Jillian agreed and left it to the chef to come up with the overall design.
“Traditional, unusual, colorful, classic, architectural?” the chef asked, trying to swiftly understand Jillian’s personal style and vision for the wedding.
“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I hadn’t planned on a big wedding, but it’s turning out to be quite formal, so I suppose the cake should be classic. Elegant. Vittorio is very sophisticated. He has tremendous style. I think the cake should at least reflect that.”
The pastry chef scribbled some notes, showed Jillian a book of photographs showing elaborately decorated cakes in all kinds of colors, shapes and tiers. They were all beautiful, Jillian told him, and she’d be happy with any of them.
While Jillian was still poring over the photo album, Theresa entered the castle’s spacious kitchen to let Jillian know the florist was waiting in the dining room to discuss flowers for the wedding and dinner.
