by Janice Sims
“Oh, Daddy, I’m so happy you feel that way!” Ana flung her arms around his waist and hugged him.
Carlo got misty-eyed. “Hey, we’re wasting time here. Let’s get this panettone ready for the oven. You know it has to be made a day in advance before it’s ready to place under the tree. It’s going to take longer than you think.”
That was an understatement as Ana was to learn. The panettone took a total of fifteen hours to make from mixing bowl to oven. While they waited for the panettone to rise, the family caught up with each other’s lives.
Chapter 10
Dinner was a savory meal of minestrone soup, roast beef, and crusty Italian bread. Afterward the couples with children gathered their little ones to prepare them for bed.
Carlo and Natalie with Ana and Erik made short work of clearing the table and cleaning the kitchen. While they worked, Natalie told Ana and Erik about the chores chart they had made upon arriving at the house yesterday. Erik had offered to hire someone to come in and cook and clean for them the three days they would be together, but the Corellis had graciously declined saying they were capable of taking care of themselves and that it would be fun to divide up the meals.
As Natalie dried dishes, she filled Ana in. “You and Erik have breakfast tomorrow morning at nine.”
“No problem,” said Ana, smiling at Erik. “Erik makes delicious pancakes and I’m a whiz at scrambled eggs and bacon.”
“Sounds great,” said Natalie.
With the dishes done, they all retired to the entertainment room. As soon as they sat down, Carlo asked, “Have you thought about where you want to get married?”
Ana, sitting close to Erik on a couch near the fireplace, smiled at him. “We’ve talked about it. But Erik says he doesn’t care where we get married. He thinks I should have the wedding of my dreams and to just give him the time and date and he’ll show up.”
Carlo chuckled. “It would save time and money,” he agreed. Ana hoped her mother had missed that surreptitious look her father had given her.
Natalie had not, and playfully elbowed her husband in the ribs. “Quit it. I was not that bossy about our wedding plans.”
“Darling, you wanted things a certain way and when you didn’t get your way you pouted,” Carlo recalled. His eyebrows were raised as if to say, “Deny it.”
Natalie laughed. “Okay, I was a bit…forceful about getting my way. But in my defense I did have your mother and your sisters to contend with and every last one of them had a vision of what our wedding should be like. I didn’t think that was fair since it was our wedding!”
“I hear you, sweetheart,” consoled Carlo. “Didn’t I not make it clear to them that it was our wedding not theirs?”
Natalie leaned her head on his shoulder. “You did, indeed.”
“But I don’t agree with Erik,” Ana said, getting the conversation back on track. “I think the wedding should be his dream wedding, too.”
“I’ve already got my dream girl. I’m satisfied,” said Erik.
“Aren’t they sweet?” Natalie cried wistfully.
“Aren’t who sweet?” Sophia asked as she entered the room with Matteo.
“We were talking about our wedding plans,” Ana told her.
Sophia and Matteo sat on the couch facing Ana and Erik. “You’re coming home to get married, aren’t you?” said Sophia expectantly. “Mom and Dad got married in the garden at the Lake Como villa, so did Dominic and Elle and Matteo and I. You’re not going to stick to family tradition?”
“Lake Como is my first choice,” Ana admitted. “But we haven’t decided yet whether it would be more cost effective for my family to fly to the States or for my friends who live in the States plus Erik’s family and friends to come all the way to Italy. Erik’s parents have a very nice garden in Connecticut.”
Erik could see how wedding negotiations could dissolve into an argument. Sophia’s expression was none too friendly. She was looking at him now like he was the wedge that was keeping her family apart.
“You’re not wearing a Corelli original, either?” Sophia asked as if Ana’s not wearing a dress from her family’s formal wear line would be the ultimate betrayal of familial loyalty.
“Yes, I’m wearing a Corelli original,” Ana said. She had already been offered free wedding dresses by some of the best designers in the world. People whom she respected and who respected her. But she had declined. “I’ve already picked out my dress.”
“Which one?” her father wanted to know. In his mind he kept a catalog of all his new merchandise. “Let me guess. The simple silk strapless empire-waist gown with pearl buttons down the back?”
“How did you know that?” asked Ana, amazed.
“I pictured you in that very dress,” said Carlo, smiling.
Her father had an uncanny knack for choosing clothing that looked good on people.
“Well, I’ll be campaigning for you to get married in Lake Como,” Sophia said stubbornly.
“I’m sorry, sis, but you don’t get a say in this,” Ana said just as stubbornly. “Did I dictate to you how your wedding should be?”
“No,” Sophia said, her voice now taking on a whiny tone, “but you’re away from home all the time. I miss you! It would be nice if you, me, Mom, and the females in the family could get together and plan your wedding, that’s all.”
Elle and Dominic entered the room at that instance and Elle smiled and said, “Are we planning the wedding? When is it going to be? Where? Do I have time to finish losing weight so I can get in a decent dress?”
“Elle you look beautiful just the way you are,” Ana told her sincerely. “And, yes, we’re talking about the wedding, but no plans have been made.”
Elle and Dominic sat down on the sofa with Carlo and Natalie. “Just tell us where it will be and we’ll be there,” said Dominic. “And take it from me, baby sister, keep it simple. Planning a wedding can tear a couple apart. Everybody wants to give you advice. It starts with the best of intentions, of course, but can turn ugly at the drop of a hat. I say, don’t listen to anyone except Erik when it comes to how you two want to get married. Do it in a church. Do it on a boat. Do it at the courthouse, or on the beach. But do it your way.”
“Yes,” Elle said in agreement. “I was lucky. Our wedding was simple and elegant and everybody we loved was there.”
“That’s all that counted to us,” said Dominic as he looked in Elle’s direction and smiled.
“But you got married in your own garden,” Sophia reminded him pointedly. “Where we’ve all gotten married, starting with Mom and Dad.”
“Stop it,” Matteo said. His arm was around Sophia’s shoulders as he leaned down to smile at her. “Let it go, baby. This is not your decision to make.”
“I know,” Sophia said, sniffling. She gave Ana such a plaintive look that Ana also started crying.
Looking at his daughters, Carlo cried, “Dio mio, can we not have a conversation without emotions getting out of hand and tears flowing? We’re blessed to be together at Christmas. Let’s get some Christmas cheer in here!”
The sisters got up and hugged. “I’m sorry,” said Sophia. “I guess I’m still a bit hormonal.”
Ana hugged her sister tightly. It was just like her to make a joke out of it. There were no hard feelings. Sophia was outspoken, had always been, and Ana didn’t believe that would ever change. However, it was her and Erik’s wedding. They would have it as they saw fit.
“I’m not crying because you were rude, which you were. I was crying because I miss your being rude to me to my face instead of on the phone. I’ve missed you so much!”
“Now this is getting ridiculous,” Carlo said. “Dominic and Elle, play something for us, please!”
Dominic and Elle got up and went to the grand piano sitting next to the huge pictu
re window, which displayed the snowy night outside.
Before beginning they whispered something to each other and then Dominic sat down and started playing “Silent Night.” Elle sang the operatic version. Her deep contralto tenderly caressed the words and sent them back out at the listeners in rich rounded tones.
Ana reached for Erik’s hand as Elle sang and squeezed it reassuringly. His family was also given to emotional outbursts. His grandmother was incorrigible. But she would dub him a saint if he got through the next three days with his sanity intact. She was glad he had such a great sense of humor. Her family took some getting used to.
Erik must have been in tune with her because he leaned down and whispered, “They remind me of my family. I think this is a match made in heaven.”
Ana grinned, then, and leaned her head on his shoulder for the rest of the performance. After “Silent Night,” Dominic and Elle did a more contemporary song with “Please Come Home for Christmas.” Elle belted it out as if she were a soul diva instead of an opera diva and had everyone clapping along. Carlo and Natalie were even inspired to get up and dance.
When she finished the song, Elle went and took Natalie by the hand. “Would you sing “What Child Is This?” I love the way you do it.”
Natalie kissed her daughter-in-law on the cheek and said, “It would be my pleasure.”
Elle went and sat down and Dominic and his mother took center stage. Natalie was a true soprano and her voice wreaked havoc on the listener’s emotions with its sweetness. Although retired from the stage for the most part, she kept her voice in fine shape with daily exercises as was evident in the flawless rendition of the well-known Christmas song about the birth of Christ.
Carlo had tears in his eyes when his wife came back to reclaim her seat beside him. He hugged her, and said, “Thank you, my darling. That was one of Momma’s favorites. You got me right here.” His hand was over his heart.
Inspired by the other performances, Sophia suddenly grabbed Ana by the hand, saying, “Come on, sis, everyone else has sung a Christmas song. Let’s do ours.”
Ana looked stricken. “Our song?” she cried incredulously. “You and I don’t sing, remember?”
“We did sing a Christmas song, once!” Sophia insisted.
The horror of it, Ana thought. She’s talking about the song we did in a Christmas pageant in elementary school. “That song is the reason why we don’t sing in public,” Ana reminded her.
“I don’t care,” Sophia said. She pointed at Dominic as if to cue him. “‘Jingle Bell Rock’!”
“I don’t think I know that,” Dominic said.
“You’re a maestro,” said his sister. “Wing it!” She hummed a little to give him the tune.
Laughing, Ana said, “All right, but in English. Last time we did it in Italian and I don’t think it translated well.”
Dominic winged it, and his sisters sang with gusto if not well. Caterwauling would be a better description of the sound coming out of their mouths. Like two cats fighting in an alley. However, not only did Ana remember the song, but the dance routine Sophia had come up with way back when. They pranced around the room. Their dancing was a whole lot more pleasing than their singing, especially to the men in their lives, because Sophia’s choreography called for quite a bit of booty shaking. By the end, they had everyone laughing so hard tears were rolling down their faces. Theirs was the only act that got a standing ovation.
Later, Erik walked Ana to her room door. There was no question that they would not be sharing a room tonight. Ana had merely nodded when her mother had told her that their rooms were ready for them. “I hope we didn’t wear you out tonight,” Ana said almost apologetically as Erik’s hand rested gently on her cheek. He bent and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Not at all,” he said, “I have all kinds of energy in reserve.” His gaze was blatantly sexual.
Ana laughed because she knew he had to be pulling her leg with that look. There was no way she was letting him anywhere near her until they were back in New York City.
“Surely you’re kidding,” she said, her gaze devouring him just as fervently. He had just set her pulse to racing. Two could play that game. She’d have him running to take a cold shower before she was done. “Although I wish I could undress you and tuck you into bed. You’ve been such a good boy today both with the surprise and keeping your hands to yourself. My parents may even be convinced that we’re waiting until our wedding night to make love.”
“I was that convincing, huh?” asked Erik. His cheek, which was bristly by this time of night, grazed hers but still the touch turned her on. She had only to turn her head a fraction of an inch and their mouths would meet in a longed-for kiss. She hadn’t kissed him since they had arrived hours ago and that one had been interrupted by her dad.
“Oh, hell, I give up. Just kiss me and kiss me hard so I can go take a cold shower!” she said, frustrated. Erik grinned and went in for the kill. They had shared many kisses since their first kiss, but this one was special because it was somehow forbidden. He felt like a schoolboy stealing kisses and although this scenario should not be the least bit sensual to a grown man, it was.
The kiss deepened and, honestly, if not for the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor behind them they would have continued for some time. However, the footsteps were followed by a deep voice with an Italian accent saying, “Buona notte, Ana!”
It was said with authority and finality. Unlike Erik, Ana knew that when her father said “Buona notte,” he only said it when the person he was speaking to was going directly to bed, no detours. That’s all he had to say to them when they were children and they knew not to talk back.
“Buona notte, Papa,” said Ana. “Ti amo,” she whispered to Erik.
“I love you,” Erik whispered back.
Ana gave him one last glance and went into her room.
Erik turned to face Carlo. “Good night, sir.”
Carlo laughed softly. “Good night? It’s still early. There’s something I’d like to talk with you about.”
Concern was mirrored in Erik’s eyes as he regarded Carlo. “Lead the way.”
They went into the study, a masculine room with book-lined walls and leather furnishings. There was a bar in a corner of the room and Carlo went and poured them both shots of brandy.
“Only a little,” Erik said. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
Sometimes he hated admitting that because he knew that some men judged other men on their ability to hold their liquor. If he were to be judged on that basis, he’d fail miserably.
“Good for you,” said Carlo. “I’ve seen the love of a drink ruin many a man.”
He prepared them both perhaps half an inch in the tumblers. Handing Erik his drink, he said, “Please sit down.”
Erik sat in a dark brown, tufted-leather armchair and Carlo sat in the matching chair opposite him. Carlo took a sip of his brandy before beginning. “What I know of you, I like, Erik. You’ve worked hard. You sincerely believe in what you do and from what I hear you love your family. But all of that is on the surface. A person is so much more than what shows on the surface. Human beings consist of many layers. Just because a man appears perfect, doesn’t mean he is.”
“None of us are perfect,” Erik said. “I have my faults.”
“I’m sure you do,” said Carlo. “So have I. What I’m getting at is I don’t want my daughter marrying a man who is interested only in what he sees. Ana’s beautiful, that’s a given. Her beauty, however, has been somewhat of a curse. Men are drawn to her because of it, but after a while learn that she’s human, not some ideal, and they wind up breaking her heart. I want to make certain that you see more in Ana than what’s on the surface. I see the way you look at her. I love my wife more than I did on our wedding day, so I know how you feel about Ana. But will you love her when she’s no longer young? Wi
ll you love her after she’s given you children and can’t lose the baby weight?
Because if the answer is no, I wish you would leave her now rather than later.”
Erik started to say something and Carlo held up his hand. “I’m not finished. I wasn’t going to say this. Earlier I told Ana I had no doubts about you and, truly, my gut tells me you’re who you appear to be. But I wouldn’t be a good father if I didn’t get this off my chest. I’ve known too many rich men who married beautiful women and tossed them aside when a more beautiful woman came along.”
Erik drank some of the brandy and grimaced. It was quality brandy, but it still burned going down. He simply had no tolerance for alcohol. He looked Carlo straight in the eye. “I don’t make decisions lightly and I would never have proposed to Ana if I wasn’t sure she’s the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
He went on to tell Carlo about his mother and how he had been a grown man before he’d come to terms with her behavior toward his father and him and Belana. “I’m thirty-five, and Ana is the only woman I’ve ever loved because she is the only woman I ever trusted enough to allow to get close to me. And that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t followed the advice of my sister who told me to be Ana’s friend, just her friend, for as long as she wanted me to be. It’s true. I was smitten with Ana from the start. A fool in love, but spending time with her without having any romantic expectations gave me a good look into her soul. Yes, Mr. Corelli, I love Ana for much more than her appearance. I love that she’s smart, she’s kind to others. She adores her friends and family. And there’s no truer friend than your daughter. Does that answer your question?”
