by K. C. Wells
“We’ve looked on the website,” Angelo informed him, “and although the Astor wing and the Castle are truly magnificent, I think what appealed to both of us was the Italian garden.” He grinned. “Not to be too stereotypical, you understand.”
Anthony laughed. “To be honest, if it were me getting married in August? That would be my choice too.” He winked. “And maybe that was why I pencilled you in for that particular venue. So shall we take a look?”
Angelo nodded, and reached down to grasp Rick’s hands. They walked back across the bridge, Elena at their side.
“As I told you on the phone, I’ve taken the liberty of organizing a sampling session for you today, as part of your visit. There’ll be the canapés that will be served during the drinks reception prior to the wedding, then the menus for the wedding breakfast, and finally a selection of dishes for the evening. Are we closer to agreeing on a final number of guests?”
Angelo nodded. “At the moment, we’ve reached nearly a hundred, but there shouldn’t be many more than that.”
“That’s great. The limit on the Italian Garden weddings is one hundred and eighty.”
Rick gazed across at the landscape. “It’s such a beautiful venue,” he commented, squeezing Angelo’s hand. “We’re so glad you were able to accommodate us.”
Anthony smiled. “When Franco told me about the two of you, it was obvious he cared for you. I was just happy I was able to help.” He pointed ahead to a large expanse of water. “This is the lake, and your wedding will take place overlooking it.”
Rick stared at the stone arches of the loggia that he’d seen online. “There?” The warm coloured stone reflected the sun’s rays, giving the spot a peaceful appearance.
Anthony nodded. “We’d use the piazza for the drinks reception, so your guests can look out at the lake and the fountain.” He led them through the loggia and down toward the lake.
“Such a beautiful place,” Elena said quietly. “Your father would have loved this.”
Angelo’s hand tightened around Rick’s. “I’m sure he would have.”
They walked through a rose garden, Anthony talking with Elena about the history of the place while Rick drank in their gorgeous surroundings. The fragrance was sublime.
“Happy?” Angelo asked him in a low voice.
Rick nodded. “I still can’t believe it’s finally going to happen.”
Angelo chuckled. “We’re not there yet. Don’t go counting any chickens.”
Rick wasn’t worried. After all they’d gone through to arrive at this point, nothing was going to stop this wedding, short of a natural disaster wiping out all off Kent and its environs. Then he reconsidered and sent up a silent plea. Make sure You have nothing on the books for August nineteenth, okay? Because You know I have nothing against You personally, right? I think You did a great job, especially when I look around me right this second. It’s just that assholes have made a mess of it, and usually in Your name.
He had to smile to himself. I’m having a conversation with God, asking Him to make sure our wedding is catastrophe-free.
Anthony led them into a Palladian style building, with vaulted ceilings and full length arched windows. The atmosphere inside was light and airy, and the lake and gardens could be seen through the windows.
“This is the Guthrie Pavilion,” Anthony told them. “This is where your wedding breakfast would take place.”
The room was already laid out for a wedding, with round tables covered in snowy white tablecloths, displays of creamy, fragrant flowers in the centre of each.
Elena regarded the centrepieces. “You will not need the flowers,” she declared emphatically.
Rick had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming, but he kept a straight face. “Oh?”
She nodded, smiling broadly. “I have already arranged for the miniature olive trees.”
Anthony blinked. “Olive trees?”
“Yes. They have been grown specially. Each tree will have little white lights in them.”
Rick snuck a glance at Angelo, who was staring at his mother. “I thought this was just an idea.”
Elena opened her eyes wide. “A very good idea. Which is why I went ahead and spoke with the garden centre months ago. They should be ready in time for the wedding.”
Oh hell.
Anthony nodded slowly. “I see. Well, that is certainly different. Is it an Italian custom?”
Elena beamed. “No, but I saw it on Pinterest.”
Both Rick and Angelo gaped.
“Since when did you go on Pinterest?” Angelo demanded.
“Since Paolo showed me on his laptop. He wanted to give me some ideas for the reception.”
“I’ll just bet he did,” Rick muttered. Angelo reached behind him and gave him a light tap on his backside. Rick gave him an innocent look. “What?”
“Behave,” Angelo whispered. He returned his attention to Elena. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”
“Could you give me the details of the garden centre?” Anthony asked. “That way I can liaise with them directly about delivery times and setting up on the day.”
“Of course.” Elena’s face glowed. “They will look so beautiful.”
One look at her delighted expression, and Rick knew Angelo wasn’t about to argue.
“So, if you’re happy with the Pavilion, let’s go into the castle where I’ve arranged the menu samples. They should be ready for us by now.” Anthony held out his arm to Elena, who took hold of it, still smiling. They walked ahead of Rick and Angelo at a steady pace, Anthony leaning in to talk to her, Elena nodding and listening intently.
“He’s a very charming man, isn’t he?” Rick said quietly. “He has Elena practically purring.”
“This is his job, right? He has to deal with the public all the time, so it makes sense that he’d have good people skills.” Angelo grinned. “He’d make some lucky man a wonderful husband.”
Rick gave a mock gasp. “I hate it when you read my mind. How do you do that?” Anthony’s suit and the way it fitted the contours of his body, his manner of speaking, the confidence that permeated his words… Rick could easily see Anthony as gay.
He gave himself a shake. “I really must stop doing that. Not every good looking man is gay. And for all I know, he might be highly offended that I’m even considering him as such.”
Angelo squeezed his hand. “I won’t tell him if you won’t.” He leaned closer. “So, what are the odds that Mum wants Italian food on the menu?”
Rick wasn’t about to take that bet. He had a feeling Elena wanted their wedding to have a traditional Italian feel to it. That gave him pause.
What do Italian grooms wear?
* * * * * *
It was official. Angelo was in Food Heaven.
“Oh, my God, these are delicious!” He took a bite of another canapé, this time a slice of spicy naan bread spread with smoked chicken mousse, delicately flavoured with coriander.
Rick eyed him with amusement. “Do you have to moan like that when you eat?”
Angelo thrust the remainder of the canapé into his hand and Rick ate it in one bite. He rolled his eyes and let out a soft moan that was an exact duplicate of Angelo’s. “Oh my God!”
Angelo nodded enthusiastically. “See?” He turned to Anthony. “And all these can be available?”
“Yes. You simply need to choose how many canapés per person, four, six or eight.”
Angelo snorted. “Well, that will be an easy choice. Forty Italians plus Rick’s family and all our friends? Better make it eight.”
Rick smacked his backside. “I’ll tell Maggie you said that.”
Angelo did an eye roll. “Oh, come on, Christmas Day at your parents’ house? It’s like a feeding frenzy. Last year I vividly recall having to arm wrestle Maggie for the last of the roast potatoes.”
Anthony laughed. “This sounds like it’s going to be a very interesting wedding.” He handed Angelo the list of canapés. “This is all of them, in
cluding the hot ones.” There was a variety of toppings, from duck to salmon, to roast beef, and two or three vegetarian options. “We’d need your final list a week before the wedding at the latest. Shall we move on to the wedding breakfast and the evening menus?” He led them over to another table where covered dishes awaited them.
“We choose one starter, one main course and one dessert, right?” Rick asked.
Anthony nodded. “Plus one vegetarian option. But to be honest, there are five or six options for each course, so it shouldn’t be too onerous a task to choose something.”
Mum was perusing the list. “There is no soup on this list,” she declared. “Angelo, you need to have soup.”
He sighed. “Mum, I don’t think they have Italian wedding soup as an option.”
“Wedding soup?” Anthony tilted his head to one side.
“It’s a soup with green vegetables and meat, usually meatballs,” Angelo explained. He and Rick had tried it at a wedding in Sicily when they’d visited his family. He gave his mum a smile. “What about the chicken terrine? Chicken is usually a good choice. And the baby tomato salad for the vegetarians.”
She pursed her lips. “If you say so.”
Angelo stifled his groan. So far it had been plain sailing. He supposed he should have expected the shoe to drop at some point.
“Oh wow, they have roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.” Rick was practically drooling.
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.
Mum widened her eyes. “Could it be any more English?”
Angelo regarded the list of courses. “The desserts are more Continental.” There was a cheesecake, a sorbet, a summer berries fruit salad and… He smiled. “Mum, there’s a Frangipane tart.”
She huffed. “That’s an improvement, I suppose.”
Angelo couldn’t miss the way Rick’s face tightened. They’d known there might be issues with the reception, but Angelo had kept his fingers crossed that Mum would be okay with their choices.
“There is pasta on the evening menu,” Anthony said with a smile.
Mum jerked her head toward him. “Pasta?”
He nodded. “Spinach and Ricotta Tortellini, with a garlic and cream sauce. Plus there is also Sea Bass.”
Angelo could have hugged him. Mum’s smile was back as Anthony opened one of the covered dishes to let her taste the pasta. She turned to him and Rick, and beamed. “This is really good. You need to try this.” She went back to tasting the pasta.
Angelo caught Anthony’s eye and mouthed thank you. The man was a godsend.
When they’d hummed and hawed about the choices, Angelo and Rick made the final selection and Anthony made notes. Then he consulted his watch. “The last detail I need from you is your choice of room for the night of the wedding. With the Italian Garden weddings, I recommend the Anne Boleyn wing.” His eyes gleamed. “In fact, I think I have the perfect room for you two.” He turned to Mum. “I’m going to borrow Angelo and Rick for a moment while I show them the accommodation. We shouldn’t be long. Please, try some of the other dishes.”
Mum gazed at Angelo. “Can I come too?”
Rick bit his lip but said nothing.
Angelo cleared his throat. “Mum, you really don’t need to see our room, do you? Why don’t you stay here and try some more of the samples?” Anthony nodded in agreement.
“If you say so.” She gazed at the dishes. “I may have a little more of the pasta.”
Angelo kissed her cheek. “Save room for your lunch,” he told her. “We’ve still got an afternoon trying on suits, remember? And we’re seeing the bakers at four.”
They left her in the castle and Anthony led them through the grounds to the Anne Boleyn wing.
“Your mother seems to be a formidable character,” he commented.
Angelo snickered. “Tactfully put. I’m sorry, but I had to draw the line somewhere. I didn’t want her seeing where Rick and I would be spending our first night as a married couple.” He stared at the building ahead of them. “Is that it? Wow. That looks… old.” The leaded windows were beautiful.
“To be honest, my first thought was the Edward VII suite. It has a seven foot bed.” Anthony smiled. “Definitely a room fit for a king. But then I had another idea.” He opened the wide wooden door and led them into a large hallway with oak floors and panelled walls. When they reached another door, Anthony paused. “Let’s see if what you think of this.”
He opened the door and they stepped into a suite, the bathroom off to the left and the main area dominated by a wide bed and windows that filled one wall. The fittings were modern, but somehow did not seem out of place. Oak beams ran across the ceiling, and in the bathroom was a roll top bath big enough for two.
Angelo couldn’t stop smiling. “This is perfect.” Rick’s hand found his, and they gazed at the luxurious room. “And that bath. Won’t that be wonderful, to take a long bath at the end of what promises to be a very long day?”
“There will be champagne waiting for you,” Anthony added. “That will be from me.” He winked. “Franco said I am to take special care of you.”
Based upon everything they had seen so far, Angelo figured they owed Franco—big time.
* * * * * *
It was official. Rick was in Wedding Suit Hell, and Angelo was right there with him.
He stared at the row upon row of suits that lined the walls of the upstairs room. Elena had brought them to the men’s outfitters that several family members had recommended, and if the selection he was seeing was anything to go by? Some Italians had no taste in clothing whatsoever.
Rick leaned in to whisper to Angelo. “She’s kidding, right? Tell me she’s kidding.”
Angelo shuddered. “I’m beginning to get a very bad feeling about this.”
Elena was moving along the rows, pulling out jackets and exclaiming enthusiastically about them.
“What did your brothers wear?” Rick wanted to know. He couldn’t really see Luca in any of the garish colours on offer.
“Vincente wore a royal blue suit,” Angelo said in a low voice. “Paolo’s was sage green, I think.”
Sage green? Rick wanted to throw up. “Tell me you don’t want me to wear any of these, and I will love you forever.”
Angelo chuckled. “I thought that was a given.”
Rick pulled out a jacket in light blue and shivered. “Ugh. No. Just…. No.”
“Angelo!” Elena held up a shiny silvery-grey suit. She beamed. “What do you think?”
“Say something!” Rick hissed. “Please. If you love me.”
Angelo laughed quietly. “Now, would I let you marry me in a shiny silver suit? Hmm?” He gave Elena a patient smile. “Not sure that’s really me, Mum.”
“Ya think?” Rick muttered.
Elena glared at him. “It would be more helpful if you pointed out suits that you like, rather than making comments.”
Angelo nudged Rick in the ribs with his elbow, and Rick coughed. “I’m sorry, Elena. I know there are lots of suits here, but so far I haven’t seen one that makes me go, ‘Yes! That’s the one!’”
“Then maybe I might be allowed to make a few suggestions?”
Rick glanced over Elena’s shoulder at the tall, slim man who’d shown them to the room. He walked over to them, looking both Rick and Angelo up and down.
Elena’s face lit up. “Thank you. That would be most welcome.”
The sales assistant studied Angelo for a moment. “With your colouring, you could go with either a very dark suit or a very pale one, like cream.”
Rick snorted. “I can’t see you in a white suit, babe. Just saying.”
The assistant pursed his lips and gave Angelo a keen glance. “Do you trust me?”
Angelo smiled. “I don’t even know you, but yes, I’ll trust you.”
“I’m Harry, and I’m about to make you look amazing.” He grinned at Rick. “And then it’s your turn.” He beckoned Angelo with a crooked finger. “Step into my fitting room.”
Angelo gave Rick a flash of a smile before disappearing into the changing room after Harry. Rick stared at the door. Angelo might trust Harry, but Rick trusted his gaydar. And right then it was pinging like crazy.
I trust Angelo. Harry? Not so much.
“Harry seems like a pleasant young man,” Elena commented. She peered intently at Rick. “Can I ask you something? Do you think he might be… gay?”
Rick laughed and impulsively he hugged her. “Hey, your gaydar is working!”
Her brow furrowed. “My what?” She didn’t release him, however. Her frown smoothed out and she hugged him back. “You make Angelo very happy. This is why I love you like one of my own sons.”
Rick’s chest tightened. It was possibly the sweetest thing she had ever said to him. He kissed her cheek. “I love you too, Elena.” It was the truth. While Vittorio had taken his time warming to the idea of Rick as part of the family, Elena had been far quicker to accept him.
“So… what do you think?”
Rick jerked his head in the direction of the fitting room—and stared.
Angelo wore a three piece suit in a rich ivory/cream colour. The waistcoat fitted his slim form, and the white shirt and gold tie went perfectly against his olive skin. The contrast of pale suit and black curls was so striking that Rick was stunned.
“You look… beautiful,” he said simply.
Angelo’s face glowed, and next to him, Harry beamed.
Elena’s breathing hitched. “Oh, Angelo. You look wonderful.”
Rick walked slowly over to where Angelo stood, and grasped both his hands. “How the hell do you expect me to remember my vows when I’m standing there, looking at you?”
Angelo smiled, leaned forward and kissed him. “I have only one word to answer that. Ditto.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Wait until you see what I have in mind for you. When I’m done, you’ll have GT magazine wanting to do a spread on your wedding.”
Angelo groaned. “Do not give my mother ideas, okay?” He patted Rick’s backside. “Go let Harry work his magic.”
Rick smiled and followed Harry into the changing room. As Harry pushed open the door, Rick caught Elena’s whisper.
