Catherine Spencer - Convenient Brides

Subdued, and seeming still too embarrassed to look him in the face, she sifted sand between her fingers and mumbled, “Oh…yes…I see your point.”

“Then we’re agreed. We’ll move forward without delay. Will two weeks give you enough time to prepare?”

“More than enough,” she said, at last meeting his gaze. “We’re in mourning, Paolo. A big wedding would be inappropriate.”

“It doesn’t have to be a grand affair, to be memorable. But if I have my way, this will be your only shot at being a bride, and you deserve something more than a brief ceremony crammed in between the many other things we have to do in order to set up house together. One thing at a time, however.” He climbed to his feet, put his own clothing to rights, then extended a hand to her. “Comealong, my love. Let’s return to the house and prepare for an eventful evening ahead. Wedding details can wait until after we’ve broken the news to the family.”

“Engaged?”

Paolo’s announcement, delivered during the cocktail hour, brought the entire room to a standstill. Lidia’s mouth fell open and she clasped her hands at her breast, a ray of pure joy lighting her face for the first time since the funerals. The children merely looked mystified, but were sufficiently impressed by the sudden electricity charging the atmosphere to stop bickering over the puzzle they were working on, and slink closer to each other on the sofa.

Poor lambs, Callie thought, watching them. They’d learned at far too young an age that life could deal some vicious blows on the innocent, and were obviously afraid another was in the offing.

Salvatore, however, the only one who’d responded verbally to the news, and not very agreeably at that, said again, with more emphasis this time, as if Paolo had spoken in foreign tongues, “ Engaged? To Caroline?”

“That’s right,” Paolo said. “I proposed to her, and she accepted. Congratulate me, Father.”

Salvatore scowled and favored her with a look loaded with such suspicion that Callie halfexpected him to accuse her of entrapment. “When did all this take place?”

“Several days ago.”

“And you wait until now, to spring the news on us?”

“Caroline needed some time to decide if she wanted me for a husband.” Paolo smiled at her over the rim of his aperitif glass. “I’m very happy to say that, after due consideration, she decided she does.”

Clemente spoke up, his brow furrowed in confusion. “How can you and Zia Caroline get married? Uncles shouldn’t marry aunts.”

“Especially not in this case,” his grandfather muttered in an aside.

Shooting his father a quelling glare, Paolo explained, “They can if they’re not related to one another, Clemente.”

“I don’t understand how.”

“Well, when you’re grown up, you and Gina might be aunt and uncle to each other’s children, but you could never marry her because she’s your sister and you’re her brother.”

Clemente digested that information quickly enough. “I wouldn’t marry her even if I could,” he declared. “She’s too bossy!”

Ignoring him, Gina appealed to Paolo, her little face anxious. “Does that mean you’re going to live in America with her, Zio?”

“No. We plan to live in Rome, quite near your old house.”

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Lidia exclaimed, setting down her vermouth and embracing first Callie, then Paolo. “The best news in the world! When is the wedding to be?”

“As soon as you and Caroline can put one together,” he said. “Preferably within the next two or three weeks.”

“So soon? Paolo, a wedding takes time to arrange.”

“Not this one,” Callie interjected. “We want something small and private.”

“What’s the big rush?” Salvatore asked, his radar still obviously on high alert. “We are a family in mourning.”

“Which is exactly why we want to keep the fuss to a minimum.” Paolo turned to the twins. “But there’s more. Zia Caroline and I would like to make a home for the two of you. We want you to come and live with us.”

“So that’s what this is really all about!” Salvatore blew out a breath of undisguised relief. “I was beginning to think you’d taken leave of your senses.”

Paolo fixed him in a severe look. “If you cannot be happy for Caroline and me, Father, then at least have the good grace to keep quiet.”

By then oblivious to the mounting tension, Gina bounced up and down on the sofa in excitement. “Can I be a bridesmaid? My friend Anita was a bridesmaid when her uncle got married, and she wore a pretty dress, with flowers in her hair.”

Callie was about to say no, it wasn’t going to be that kind of wedding, but Paolo spoke up first. “Of course you may. Every bride should have a maid to help her on her wedding day, just as every groom should have a best man.” He eyed his nephew. “Are you willing to take on the job, Clemente, or do I ask someone else to do it?”

“I’ll do it,” Clemente said solemnly, “but first I have a question. Everything you say makes Gina and me feel happy, Zio Paolo, but how can that be right when our parents just died?”

Callie’s heart constricted. “Oh, honey,” she said softly, drawing him to her, “don’t ever feel you don’t have the right to be happy.Your mommy and daddy wouldn’t want that, at all.”

“But won’t they think we’ll forget them, if we come to live with you?”

“No,” she assured him. “Because they know we’ll never be able to take their place. We’re just standing in for them.”

“Will they know we’ll still miss them?”

How sensitive he was, this young son of hers. Moved, she said, “Of course they will. We’ll all miss them. But I think they’ll feel better knowing your uncle and I are there to look after you.”

“They have their grandmother and me,” Salvatore reminded her sourly.

“Yes.” She spared him a passing glance. “But even you must agree that children can never have too many people who care about them, and whether or not you believe it, Signor Rainero, your grandchildren’s welfare is something I hold very dear to my heart.”

If he wasn’t impressed by her remarks, Clemente was. His mouth curving in a tiny smile, he said, “You’re nice, Zia Caroline.”

“Nice enough to be given a hug?”

He screwed up his face, debating the question. “Okay,” he said finally, and came into her embrace.

It was the first time she’d ever felt his arms close around her as if he meant it, instead of as if it was a duty he was compelled to perform. Struggling to hang on to her composure, she looked to Paolo for help.

“Enough of trying to strangle my future wife, young man,” he decreed, all mock indignation mixed with laughter. “And no tears from you, Caroline, or you, Momma! Tonight is for celebrating.”

“So that’s why there’s champagne chilling,” Salvatore said, drumming up a token smile. “Well, since you’ve both made up your minds, I suppose I should propose a toast.”

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