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She nodded, even as she pressed her hand tighter into the crook of his arm.
They hadn’t made much progress into the room before two attractive women moved toward them.
“My sisters,” Vitt said beneath his breath. “They take after my mother. Just do your best.”
“That’s not comforting at all,” she answered in a whisper.
Vittorio made the introductions. “Bianca and Carlina, I’d like you to meet Jill, my wife. Jill, this is Carlina, the youngest of my sisters, and Bianca, the oldest. Guiliana isn’t here. She lives in Europe with her family.”
The four of them made small talk for a few minutes before Bianca and Carlina came up with an excuse to get Jillian alone. Knowing his sisters wouldn’t be satisfied until they’d had their time with her, he allowed them to drag her off toward a private corner. He in the meantime went to greet his paternal grandmother who was already sitting in her chair at the table.
He stooped to give her a kiss. She was small and rather frail but her mind remained sharp. “Nonna, how are you?” he asked, sitting down in a chair close to hers and taking her hands in his.
“The sun was shining today and I am alive. What could be better?”
Vitt grinned. “Not much, Nonnie.”
His grandmother nodded at Jillian, who was still in the corner with his sisters. “How did this happen?”
“The baby?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I know how babies are made. I had nine of them. But how is it we are only meeting your family now?”
He shrugged. “There were problems. We’re working them out.”
“Good. Children need their mother and father together in one house.”
“I agree.”
She tipped her head, considering Jillian. “She’s Italian, isn’t she? Maybe even Sicilian. Look at her nose, the cheekbones, you can see it in her face.”
His grandmother was smart. He smiled at her and patted her hand. “Would you like to meet her?”
“Why do you think I’m here?”
Laughing softly, he rose to get Jill, but before he could pry Jill away from his sisters, his mother entered the dining room then, pushing his father’s wheelchair.
Vitt hadn’t seen his father since arriving home and approached his father right away, bending over the wheelchair to kiss his father on the cheek. “Father, you look well. What have you been doing? Chasing Madre around the bedroom?”
His father’s dark eyes shone, and his mouth pulled into a smile. “Impudent dog,” his father said, his voice distorted by the ventilator helping him breathe.
Vittorio had always admired his father, but one of the things he enjoyed most about his father was his sense of humor. “Everyone tells me I take after you.”
Salvatore rolled his eyes before looking toward the corner. “Is that your wife talking to your sisters?”
“Yes.”
“Go get her. I’m anxious to meet her.”
Jillian startled when Vitt suddenly touched her low on her back. “My father wants to meet you,” he said quietly as he drew her away from the others. “He speaks with difficulty, and it’s not always easy to understand him, so please be patient,” he said, leading her across the room to where his father sat.
Jillian’s breath caught in her throat as she spotted the family resemblance between Vitt and his father. Salvatore d’Severano was tall like Vitt, and very broad-shouldered, and while probably once powerfully built, he was now thin, his body stooped, the muscles connecting his large frame slack from years of atrophy.
But while his body appeared frail, his dark eyes burned with a fierce intelligence and his intense gaze seemed to see everything as she approached his wheelchair.
“Did he have a stroke?” she asked, suddenly terribly nervous.
“No. He was shot. It left him paralyzed.”
