Lake Como

by Anita Hughes

  “I’ll stick with lunch for now,” Hallie replied, offering Milo a piece of ham. “We better feed Milo, he’s starving.”

  “I once spent three weeks sifting through rubble to find a Greek artifact.” Angus scooped up Milo. “I’m very patient.”

  * * *

  “You’re allowed to date.” Portia poured sunscreen into her hand. “It’s good for the skin.”

  “I like Angus,” Hallie mused. “But I’m still getting used to being Hallie Tesoro. Pliny hasn’t even told Sophia about me.”

  “You can’t blame him.” Portia sighed. “Sophia makes the sign of the cross every time I walk by. The funny thing is she used to dote on Alfonso when Marcus brought him home from university. He always complimented her on her brunches.”

  Hallie raised her eyebrows. “It sounds like things are getting serious.”

  “He’s taking me to Il Gatto Nero tomorrow night. It’s nearly impossible to get a reservation,” Portia replied. “Alfonso bribed the maître d’ with yards of his most expensive silk. You and Angus should join us!”

  “Tag along to a romantic dinner?” Hallie frowned.

  “Sisters are supposed to double date,” Portia replied, her eyes sparkling. “I can ask Angus questions about Max. I love a good mystery.”

  “I don’t want to sit across a table and talk about what books Angus likes to read,” Hallie explained. “I knew Peter so well for so long, I don’t want to know someone new.”

  “Then skip dinner and go straight to the sex.” Portia grinned. “Angus has gorgeous legs.”

  “I don’t want a man,” Hallie insisted. “I want to finish the Villa Luce, I want to spend time with Pliny and get to know Lake Como.”

  “If you really want to be Italian, that means embracing la dolce vita.” Portia flipped on her stomach. “Eating, drinking, and making love.”

  “The two most beautiful women in Lake Como,” a male voice said behind them. “Posing like models for Michelangelo.”

  Portia leaped up and kissed Alfonso on the cheek. He wore beige linen slacks and a silk shirt open to the third button. He carried a slim box in one hand and a bunch of lilacs in the other.

  “Are you spying on me?” Portia demanded playfully. “I thought you were in Milan till tomorrow.”

  “I wrapped business up early.” Alfonso settled on the chaise lounge. “I brought you a gift for tomorrow night.”

  “I don’t need presents,” Portia said, scowling.

  “Riccardo bought you gifts because he was a scoundrel.” Alfonso handed the box to Portia. “I bring you presents to show off your beauty. You are Aphrodite and Venus rolled into one.”

  “He’s impossible to resist.” Portia giggled to Hallie. She tore off the tissue paper and discovered a dove-colored silk dress with a heart-shaped bodice.

  “It’s Armani,” Alfonso said. “Straight off the runway. I practically plucked it off the model.”

  “I hope she was wearing something underneath.” Portia held the dress in front of her.

  “It’s gorgeous.” Hallie nodded. “You look like a china doll.”

  “Alfonso does have excellent taste.” Portia rewarded him with a kiss on the lips. “Convince Hallie she and Angus should join us; I want to show off the new dress.”

  “Hallie has a new beau?” Alfonso beamed. “Then we will make it a party of four.”

  “Angus and I are friends,” Hallie protested, shooting Portia a look.

  “A sexy male friend who gave her a puppy,” Portia interjected.

  “Angus was afraid Milo would be drowned,” Hallie insisted.

  “Has he asked you on a date?” Portia asked.

  “He wanted to take me to dinner,” Hallie admitted. “I said I’m not ready.”

  “What is this term ‘not ready’?” Alfonso frowned. “Americans stay children too long. They spend their whole lives playing in the sandbox.”

  “It means I just broke up with Peter,” Hallie retorted. “I don’t want to throw myself in a new relationship.”

  “We need love like we need to breathe.” Angus shrugged. “What are you waiting for? For the wrinkles to start, for your hair to turn gray?”

  Hallie glanced from Alfonso to Portia. They both looked young and sleek and sophisticated. Alfonso’s eyes were sharp as pebbles and his fingers tapped restlessly on the chair. Portia was like a cat preening in the sun, lapping up Alfonso’s praise.

  Suddenly Hallie couldn’t think of a reason to say no to Angus. Peter, the apartment on Russian Hill, Kendra’s design store were all part of another life. If she was going to live in Lake Como, she had to move forward.

  Hallie hesitated. “I don’t know if Angus could afford it.”

  “It will be my treat,” Alfonso insisted, winking at Portia. “We will teach the Americans how to dine.”

  * * *

  Hallie had spent the last hour in her closet, debating what to wear to dinner. She finally chose a pleated skirt and matching angora sweater. Glancing in the mirror, she thought she was dressed for a Junior League fashion show. But she didn’t want to flash her breasts or expose her legs. She wanted to take things slowly. She wished she could skip dinner altogether and eat pizza with Pliny.

  Lea knocked on her door and announced the arrival of a visitor. Hallie ran the brush through her hair and rubbed lip gloss on her lips. She grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs to the foyer.

  Angus stood under the crystal chandelier, his feet shifting nervously. He wore beige slacks and a blazer that didn’t reach his wrists. He smiled when he saw Hallie, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “I’m a little rusty at dating,” he admitted. “I couldn’t decide whether to bring you flowers or perfume. Milo chewed up the roses, now he has a terrible stomachache.”

  “I don’t need anything,” Hallie murmured.

  “No you don’t.” Angus’s eyes traveled over Hallie’s body. “You’re perfect.”

  “I was afraid you’d think I’m forward … asking you to dinner.”

  “Nothing has made me happier since we caught the Lavarello,” Angus replied. “We’ll learn some new recipes and I can try them on you later.”

  “Portia said the food is amazing,” Hallie mumbled. She pictured a candlelit table, Alfonso and Portia holding hands, Hallie sitting awkwardly across from Angus. She grabbed the staircase railing and was about to run upstairs, but Angus placed his wide hand on her arm.

  “It’s only dinner,” Angus said quietly. “I won’t even make you eat your vegetables.”

  Hallie glanced at Angus’s hazel eyes and relaxed. They had fished together and been stuck in a rainstorm. A delicious dinner, accompanied by Alfonso and Portia’s bright chatter, couldn’t be so hard.

  * * *

  They drove in Alfonso’s black Peugeot. Angus’s long legs were jammed into his chest. Hallie pressed her body against the window, watching the lake change colors. The sun dipped behind the mountains, turning the sky into a kaleidoscope.

  The restaurant was in the hills, high above Cernobbio. The maître d’ led them outside to the balcony and Hallie gasped at the view. Como was lit up like Main Street in Disneyland, and Bellagio shone like a precious jewel. The villages of Varenna and Menaggio shimmered like fireflies swarming around a flame.

  “The most magnificent view in Lake Como.” Alfonso opened his arms expansively. “The wine selection is unrivaled and the fish is fresh every day.”

  Hallie listened to Alfonso and Portia chat about the jazz festival in Tremezzo and a new restaurant in Como. Alfonso ate heartily: antipasto, garlic bread, oysters on the half shell. Portia sipped her wine, giggling and flirting. The tense, watchful expression she wore when she was with Riccardo was absent, replaced by an easy smile.

  Hallie tried to remember what she and Peter talked about at dinner: the magazine, her clients, a new exhibit at the Asian Art Museum. She glanced at Angus but he seemed content sipping his wine. Every now and then he offered his opinion on art or local cuisine, sending Halli
e a small smile across the table.

  “I envy the British their great mystery writers.” Portia ate a slice of melon wrapped in prosciutto. “Hallie and I used to read her Agatha Christie novels aloud every night.”

  “We both had terrible nightmares.” Hallie smiled.

  “To think we have a mystery in our midst,” Portia said mischievously. “Alfonso insists he’s never met Max Rodale, but he’s provided silk for the whole villa.”

  “Only Angus knows our employer personally,” Alfonso concurred.

  “You have to tell us about him,” Portia purred to Angus.

  “I rarely see Max, he travels constantly,” Angus explained. “When he’s at the villa he sequesters himself on the third floor.”

  “Was he disfigured in some terrible accident?” Portia’s eyes twinkled.

  “He’s just very shy,” Angus replied, dipping a breadstick in olive oil. “He’s devoted to art.”

  “He must have suffered a tragic love affair,” Portia continued. “Like Antony and Cleopatra or Tristan and Isolde.”

  “Not all great loves are tragic,” Angus mused. “Some of the greatest partners in history have been husband and wife: Pierre and Marie Curie, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.”

  “Love makes one capable of climbing the highest mountains,” Alfonso agreed, draping his arm around Portia.

  “Alfonso has a list of impossible places he wants to travel together.” Portia giggled. “The Himalayas, Machu Picchu, Kilimanjaro.”

  Alfonso nodded. “I have always wanted to explore the world, like Christopher Columbus.”

  “I used to think Alfonso was a bookworm who only liked to add up numbers,” Portia said. “I’m glad he proved me wrong.”

  Hallie watched Alfonso kiss Portia softly on the lips. She turned to Angus, wanting to change the conversation to something light: Milo’s antics or crazy Italian drivers. But he was studying Hallie intently, his fingers wrapped around his wineglass. Hallie stabbed a tomato with a toothpick and stared at the lights twinkling on the lake.

  The waiter brought out another bottle of wine and served entrees on white ceramic plates. Hallie ate fresh salmon, roasted vegetables, and mounds of fluffy white rice. She sipped the red wine and slowly the knot in her stomach unraveled.

  Hallie told a story about a castle she visited in Tuscany, where the owner greeted her in a bathrobe. She described the modern design stores in Milan, and the dusty antique shops in Florence. She felt Angus’s fingers brush against hers, sending an electric shock through her body.

  By the time the waiter cleared the plates, everyone talked at the same time. Angus told stories about Pompeii, Alfonso regaled them with tales of demanding clients, and Portia described her students’ flawless arabesques. Angus put his arm around Hallie and left it there, his fingers stroking her back.

  Driving back to Bellagio, Hallie sat close to Angus, her knee pressed against his. She hadn’t felt the weight of another man’s thigh against hers since Peter, and suddenly her body stiffened. She watched the road intently, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

  Alfonso and Portia urged them to join them at a disco in Como, but the thought of loud music and thick smoke made Hallie’s head ache. Alfonso dropped Hallie and Angus off at the villa, kissing them both on the cheek.

  Hallie walked up the gravel path, listening to Angus’s footsteps beside her. She wanted him to kiss her, like he did in the rain. But as they approached the front door her steps faltered. It was as if she was stuck on a moving walkway that inexplicably slowed down. She opened her mouth to invite him inside, but no words came out.

  “Portia is a whirlwind,” Angus said when they reached the twelve-foot front doors. “And Alfonso is like a Roman orator, talking to a huge crowd.”

  “Portia seems very happy,” Hallie said tentatively. “He treats her like a queen.”

  “It was a wonderful evening.” Angus stroked Hallie’s cheek.

  The touch of his hand on her face was so gentle, her hesitation melted away. Hallie felt his mouth on hers, his hand traveling over her breasts. She remembered how wonderful it felt to be kissed, to smell aftershave and male sweat.

  “I should go,” Angus stepped back. “Milo has never been left alone this long. He’s probably chewed up the rug and some eighteenth-century furniture.”

  “I’ll see you on Monday,” Hallie whispered.

  “I’ll practice my new recipes.” Angus grinned. “We’ll have a feast.”

  Hallie walked up to her bedroom and hung her dress in the closet. She climbed into bed, remembering dinner, Angus, their kiss. She lay in the dark and reached for her cell phone. There were no voice mails from Constance, no messages from Francesca. She put the phone on the bedside table and drew the comforter around her shoulders.

  chapter eighteen

  Hallie knelt in the front pew of the tiny chapel and drew her hands together. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been to church. When she was a child she attended Sunday school, but she wasn’t allowed in the main sanctuary. She and Peter joined Constance for Christmas services, but St. Dominic’s was so full of familiar faces, it felt like a cocktail party.

  All night she had stayed awake, tossing in bed. Everything was new: her home, her family, her job, and now Angus. She needed advice and didn’t know where to turn. She slipped on a pair of pants and a turtleneck and crossed the lawn to the chapel.

  Hallie and Angus had been on a few of dates since dinner with Portia and Alfonso. She enjoyed his stories about his family, the places he’d been in Europe. She loved the way he moved around the kitchen, how he roughhoused with Milo.

  But when they sat together on the sofa, she didn’t know whether to jump in his lap, or run from the room. Her body wanted him, but her mind couldn’t decide. When he kissed her good night she didn’t want him to stop, but when his hands probed too deep she pushed them away.

  Hallie wished she could call Constance, but Constance would be appalled she’d moved on. Hallie even missed Francesca’s input. When Hallie was in high school, Francesca would wait up with a carton of ice cream and two spoons, and critique Hallie’s dates.

  Hallie had tried to talk to Portia, but between the ballet school and Alfonso, she moved at light speed. In the morning, Portia ran out the door in her leotard and tights, clutching a thermos of coffee. No matter how late Hallie stayed up, Portia came home later. Hallie could hear her singing downstairs but by the time she ran up to bed, Hallie was already asleep.

  “Dear God,” Hallie intoned, shifting her knees on the stone floor.

  “Hallie!” a voice interjected.

  Hallie turned and saw Portia crouching in the back pew. She wore black tights and a green leotard. She clutched her thermos of coffee in one hand and a gold cross in the other.

  “I thought you were at dance school.” Hallie slid into the pew beside her.

  “I’m playing hookie.” Portia held the cross tightly. “I needed some guidance.”

  “You could have come to me,” Hallie murmured.

  “You’ve been wrapped up with the Villa Luce and Angus.”

  “You’ve been busy with Alfonso and the dance school!” Hallie exclaimed. “I didn’t think you had time for me.”

  “We really are sisters.” Portia laughed. “Too proud to ask each other for help.”

  “You go first, before you rub the gold off the cross,” Hallie offered.

  “Alfonso invited me to his niece’s first birthday party,” Portia said. “I’m terrified.”

  “First birthday parties are easy,” Hallie replied. “They don’t have magicians or scary clowns.”

  “I’m frightened of Alfonso’s mother and sisters.” Portia grimaced. “They’re going to measure my hips to see if they’re suitable for childbearing.”

  Hallie waved at Portia’s spandex tights. “Your hips are perfect for anything.”

  “I’m serious,” Portia said, frowning. “In Italy, when you meet the family it’s as good as a proposal.”
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  “Do you love Alfonso?”

  “He’s gentle and caring and has a heart as big as the lake.” Portia turned the cross over in her hand. “I would love to spend my life with him.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “Pliny and Francesca loved each other and she deserted us.” Portia’s eyes were wide. “Maybe Francesca got back to San Francisco and realized she was happier without us. Some women aren’t cut out to be mothers. What if I’m just like her?”

  “I thought you got over that.” Hallie frowned. “In Capri…”

  “Capri was madness,” Portia interrupted, her eyes flashing. “I was under Riccardo’s spell.”

  “Have you talked about it with Alfonso?” Hallie asked.

  “He’s mentioned he wants a little Portia,” Portia mumbled. “A girl with curly black hair he can spoil with rainbow gelato.”

  “He wants you more.” Hallie touched Portia’s hand.

  “What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Portia demanded. “I thought Americans didn’t attend church till noon.”

  “Angus wants to cook dinner for me tonight,” Hallie murmured.

  “He’s an excellent cook, he makes you lunch all the time.”

  “In his rooms,” Hallie replied. “I’ve never been up there. Max is in London, the villa is empty.”

  Portia raised her eyebrows. “You’re afraid of having sex?”

  “I like Angus.” Hallie nodded. “I just don’t want to jump into anything.”

  “Angus is gorgeous and available,” Portia replied. “What are you waiting for?”

  “It’s like diving off a high-dive board.” Hallie sighed. “I don’t know what will happen when I hit the water.”

  “You can’t know unless you try,” Portia said decisively. “I bet it will be sexy and delicious and you’ll be pining for more.”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of,” Hallie said, smiling.

  “I’m getting claustrophobic.” Portia got up, opened the heavy oak doors, and stepped into the sunshine. “Don’t you think it’s odd that I’m frightened of having children and you’re afraid of making love?”

  “We’re not giving Tesoro a very good name.” Hallie followed Portia back to the villa.