A Dark Sicilian Secret

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.”

“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.