When the Snow Falls

by Fern Michaels

  “I should get back into the kitchen and help my mother.”

  But just as I said that, Mom appeared, hurrying over to Mark and smoothing down her hair, which seemed to have frizzed from the steam of cooking the clams.

  “Hello, Mark. I’m Rita. Dinner will be out shortly, or I should say once my husband gets home.” Mom then turned to me. “It’s okay, Bianca. I don’t need you anymore in the kitchen.”

  “I’m home!” Dad’s voice boomed from the foyer.

  “Well, it’s about time! Please excuse me, Mark.”

  Soon Mom’s voice reached us as she mercilessly interrogated Dad, asking why it had taken him so long at the liquor store.

  Mark’s gaze met mine, and we erupted into laughter.

  “Every Christmas Eve, it’s the same story. Dad goes out to the liquor store or the bakery and takes forever to come back. And Mom gives him grief as soon as he returns.” I shook my head.

  “My parents weren’t much different.” Mark wiped tears from his eyes as he tried to control his laughter.

  “Weren’t? Did they pass away?”

  “Yes, a year apart from each other. My mother had congestive heart failure, and my father found out he had lung cancer six months after she died. It’s probably for the best he didn’t live much longer after she passed away. He was so depressed without her.” Mark took a sip of wine. His expression grew somber.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. That’s why your brothers took pity on me and invited me to your family gathering tonight. I don’t have any family in Newport. Both of my sisters live in California. They invited me, of course, but I didn’t feel like making the trip this year. Besides, I’m very busy right now. I might even be working when I get home tonight.”

  “On Christmas Eve? Don’t be a Scrooge!” I forgot myself and playfully swatted his arm. My heart froze once I realized what I’d done. But Mark was too busy laughing to have even noticed.

  “There’s no way you’re going home at a decent time tonight, Mark!” Tony came up behind me. He held a glass of vodka. I glanced over my shoulder and saw my father was stocking his bar with the liquor he’d bought.

  “Yeah, that’s why we invited him, Bianca. Don’t believe his story of us taking pity on him because his family is out of state. We knew he’d be working all night if we didn’t rescue him. Besides, we managed to pique his curiosity about our Feast of the Seven Fishes.” Lucky joined us with his own glass of vodka. I suddenly realized he and Tony had been eavesdropping on our whole conversation.

  “Your sister’s right about you guys. Where are your manners? How about bringing her a drink? What will you have, Bianca? Let me do the honors.”

  “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. You’re our guest, after all.”

  “Ah! One thing you’ll soon learn about me is never to disagree.” Mark jumped ahead of me, beating me to the bar. He introduced himself to Dad, who proudly showed him what treasures he’d found at the liquor store.

  “Bianca, I forgot to ask you what your poison of choice will be.” Mark looked up from the bar.

  “She likes martinis,” Daddy answered for me.

  “Just give me a glass of Riesling, Mark. Don’t go to the trouble of making a martini.”

  “I used to be a bartender. I can whip up a martini for you in no time, and I guarantee it will be the best you’ve ever had!”

  “That’s true. He makes some killer drinks,” Lucky vouched for Mark.

  A few moments later Mark returned with my martini in hand. “Voilà!”

  “Thank you.” I took a sip and waited a few extra seconds, enjoying the anxious look on Mark’s face. Finally, I nodded my head and said, “Quite impressive.”

  “Thank you.” Mark’s face lit up as if he were a schoolboy who had just been awarded a prize.

  “Dinner’s ready!” As Mom bolted from the kitchen, she made her way to the dining room, carrying two large platters of seafood.

  “Excuse me, Mark.” I hurried over to Ma and relieved her of one of the platters of fish. I then went into the kitchen to bring out the rest of the food.

  When I returned, I saw everyone had already taken their places at the dining room table, and the only empty seat was the one next to Mark’s. Swallowing hard, I placed the rest of the platters I was holding down on the table. Mark stood up and held out my chair for me. I immediately blushed, especially because my entire family was now staring at us.

  I whispered a thank-you to Mark but refused to look in his direction.

  “I’d like you all to join me in praying the Our Father.” Mom bowed her head and began praying.

  Grateful to have an excuse to close my eyes and not be forced to look at Mark, I bowed my head and prayed the words to the Our Father. I felt Tony take my left hand and raise it up into the air. Then, a moment later, Mark took my other hand and lifted it up as well in prayer. We didn’t usually hold hands to pray. What had gotten into my family? I opened my eyes and saw everyone’s hands were joined with one another’s. I glanced at Mark and almost jumped out of my skin when I saw his eyes were also open and he was staring right at me. He flashed that devilish grin of his again. I didn’t return his smile, bowing my head once more as I closed my eyes and just focused on the Our Father. And then Mark squeezed my hand. And just when I wondered if I had imagined it, he squeezed it lightly again.

  When we finished praying, Mom said, “I’d just like to add one more prayer. Thank you, Lord, for letting us be together for another Christmas, and please let us remember what the true meaning of this season is. Amen.” Mom looked pleased with herself.

  “Amen!” we responded.

  Mom and Dad began passing the platters of seafood around the table.

  “Rita, this all looks amazing!”

  “Thank you, Mark. Be sure to try the octopus salad. That’s my specialty.”

  “It’s really my specialty,” my father said. “I taught her how to make it. Actually, Mark, this custom is more of a southern Italian tradition. My parents were from Naples. Rita’s parents were from up north, in the Italian Alps. They’re more known for stews and meat dishes.”

  “It’s our specialty now because we’re a family, Anthony.” My mother’s voice sounded a bit stern, but I could tell she was holding back because of our guest.

  “So, Tony, you must’ve been named after your father?” Mark asked.

  “Yup!” Tony held up his wineglass in salute to Dad, who likewise raised his own.

  “And you, Bianca? Who were you named after? A grandmother? I know it’s an Italian custom to often name your children after grandparents and parents. That’s what my parents did with my sisters and me.” Mark was expertly cracking his crab legs. Though crab legs were my favorite seafood, I wasn’t going to risk making the mess I usually did when I ate them. I was even being extra careful extricating my clams from their shells.

  “It was snowing when I was born. My parents thought it would be beautiful to name me Bianca for the white snow.”

  “It wasn’t just snowing. We had a blizzard that crippled the city of Newport. Everything was brought to a halt. And she’s leaving out the most important part, Mark. It was Christmas Eve,” Dad added. I knew that was coming.

  “Really? So tonight is also your birthday?” Mark leaned his face into my line of vision so that I had no choice but to look back at him. The moment I did, his eyes darkened slightly, and he gave me the most penetrating stare. My stomach felt slightly queasy as I remembered how tightly he had squeezed my hand earlier. I felt a little light-headed. The alcohol I had consumed was probably getting to me. Who was I kidding? It was Mark who had gotten to me.

  “Yes. I was shortchanged, I guess you could say, being born so close to Christmas.” I took an extra long sip of my wine.

  “Nonsense! We never shortchanged you, Bianca! We also made a big deal about your birthday on Christmas Eve when you were growing up. We even celebrated the day after Christmas to make it feel more special for you.” Mom sounded hu
rt by my comment.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I was just making a joke.”

  “Well, I brought dessert, but had I known it was your birthday, I would’ve done something to mark the occasion.”

  “How sweet, Mark!” Mom drooled.

  I decided to remain quiet.

  “So, Mark, you were saying that your parents named you and your siblings after other family members. I noticed your last name is Italian. Where in Italy is your family from?” Dad asked Mark.

  “My parents were born here, but my grandparents came from Varese.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

  “It’s up north, not too far from Milan.”

  Dad smiled. “North, south. Doesn’t matter. We’re all Italians.”

  Mom scowled. “Really? Why is it, then, that you’re always saying southern Italians are the best?”

  Dad blushed. “You know what I mean, Rita. Calm down. We’re all from Italy. No difference.”

  “Hmph.” Mom threw her head to the side.

  I knew this wouldn’t be the end of the discussion, and she’d scold Dad later for his slight against her after our guest left. I turned to Mark. “No wonder you’re not familiar with the Feast of the Seven Fishes. It’s more commonly practiced in southern Italy.”

  “That must be why. It’s a nice custom. Thank you again for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Simone.”

  “It’s our pleasure, Mark,” Mom said as she stood up and started clearing the dishes.

  After dinner, we gathered in the living room and Dad brought out the folding table. Tony and Lucky came up from the basement, lugging folding chairs. Playing cards on Christmas Eve was a family tradition. Usually, we played gin rummy and war because those were the only card games my mother knew. This year, Mom only played one game of gin rummy and then excused herself to go make coffee and get dessert ready. I got up to help her, but she whispered, “Keep Mark company.” She winked at me.

  I wanted to say he had plenty of company with my father and brothers around, but then I noticed Mark was listening to us.

  I returned to the table. Once again, Mark held out my chair. Of course, it was the one next to his.

  He leaned over and said softly into my ear, “Bet I can beat you at gin rummy.”

  “Bet you can’t,” I smirked.

  It wasn’t long before my father and brothers were out of the game, leaving just Mark and me to battle it out. Though it looked like I was going to beat him, in the end he won.

  “Guess you were right. You’re a good card player, in addition to being a good bartender.” I began collecting the cards and putting them back in their box. Dad, Tony, and Lucky were at the bar, making themselves martinis.

  “Thank you. You’re a gracious loser.” Mark cleared his throat.

  “Very funny.” I shook my head but was smiling, letting him know we were good.

  “You know, Bianca, I meant what I said earlier, that had I known it was your birthday, I would’ve marked the occasion.”

  “That’s sweet, Mark, but we’ve only just met. I wouldn’t expect you to buy a gift for me.”

  “Well, I know you must have plans with your family tomorrow since it’s Christmas, but is there any way you can spare a couple of hours? I’d like to give you a birthday experience you’ll never forget.”

  “Hmmm . . . an experience I’ll never forget, huh? You sure like to make big promises.” I did my best to keep a poker face, but on the inside I couldn’t help feeling flattered—and a bit intrigued as well.

  “I do like to make big promises, and I always deliver. So? Think your family will let me steal you for a few hours?”

  “I thought you said a couple of hours.”

  “Couple, few. You’re a grown girl. I’m sure they won’t worry if you’re gone an extra hour or more. Besides, I can tell your mother loves me.” Mark flashed his kilowatt smile, which I was finding more and more irresistible, so of course I accepted his date.

  And that was how it all began. Mark picked me up from my parents’ after our Christmas Day dinner. Beforehand, I had to listen to my brothers’ comments about Mark having the hots for me, and how we had stared at each other all night long on Christmas Eve. My mother and father were thrilled that he was taking me out.

  Mark showed up with a huge bouquet of white roses. “Bianche rose per la bella Bianca.” White roses for the beautiful Bianca.

  And then he whisked me off in a limo and took me to the Kingscote, a historic mansion in Newport. I was shocked to discover we would have the entire place to ourselves—well, except for the personal chef, waiter, and live jazz band. When I asked Mark how he’d swung this, he told me that every year he donated generously to the Preservation Society of Newport County. He had also done a favor for the chairman of the society, who happened to be a good friend. So it was now his friend’s turn to return Mark’s favor.

  After eating a five-star gourmet meal, we spent the rest of the night dancing to the sultry notes the jazz quartet played. Mark held me close as we danced. And when he brought me back home and kissed me before I stepped out of the limo, I knew in that moment I was madly in love with Mark Vitale.

  So after meeting the love of my life on Christmas Eve, I was able to add that to my list of memorable milestones. But I think what topped all the events—even the night we spent at the Kingscote—was a year later, when Mark surprised me with two tickets to spend Christmas in the Austrian Alps. Ever since I saw The Sound of Music, I’d always longed to go to Austria. The movie added even more allure to the idyllic stories Nonna had recounted of her own childhood in the Alps. I had told Mark this when I made him watch the digitally remastered version of The Sound of Music. Being the man Mark was, he not only remembered but made certain my dream would come true.

  And as I would discover in Austria, that trip would be unforgettable—not just for Mark’s amazing surprises but also because I was never again the same woman.

  Chapter 1

  Innsbruck, Austria

  The Austrian Alps towered high above me, making me feel like a tiny doll in a storefront Christmas display. Though the day had started out quite mild, a strong gust of wind suddenly blew, shaking the snow from the branches of the fir and pine trees that zigzagged all the way up to the mountain’s summit. I had dressed warmly in my new ski outfit, but a chill managed to race down my spine. Being here felt so surreal.

  On our first day in Austria, Mark and I ran through the maze of trees. I imagined myself to be a tiny ice skater on a Christmas card depicting a perfect winter wonderland. Ducking behind a baby pine tree, I spotted Mark. His back was turned toward me and he looked from east to west, wondering where I had disappeared. Taking my opportunity, I threw the huge snowball in my hand and hit Mark dead center in his back. He whipped around, just in time for me to scramble out of his line of vision. But he saw the flash of movement and came running in my direction. I took off before he could reach me. As I dodged the snowballs Mark flung at me, I couldn’t help laughing. I hadn’t felt this free and giddy since I was a little girl.

  The energy I’d expended finally caught up to me and I decided to surrender. But that didn’t stop Mark from continuing to hurl snowballs, although he wasn’t throwing them as hard now.

  “You play dirty, Mark Vitale.” My racing pulse began to slow down as I breathed in the fresh mountain air.

  “What? You think because you’re beautiful I’ll give you a break?” Mark dropped the last snowball he was holding and clapped his hands together, rubbing the snow from his gloves.

  “And here I thought you were chivalrous. Hmmm!” I pouted, crossing my arms in front of my chest and looking off in the distance. Mark took me by surprise and tackled me. With all the snow blanketing the ground, I fell softly, but I was still startled from being caught off guard.

  “Get up!” I giggled, trying to push Mark away, but it was no use.

  “Never!” Mark’s face edged in closer to mine, and our eyes met. He kissed me. His lips felt cool against mine
, but I continued kissing him back.

  “Enough playing for today. Let’s make our way to the lodge and get some hot chocolate to warm us up.”

  He helped me up and dusted the snow off my jacket and pants.

  “Now that’s the Mark I fell in love with—not the ruthless predator who pummeled me with snowballs.”

  “Come on! You loved it!” Mark smiled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as we trudged downhill.

  “Even though it’s just our first day here in Innsbruck, I’m having a great time, Mark.”

  “It’s only going to get better,” Mark said, looking at me with a tender expression. Then he plopped a fistful of snow in my hair before running away.

  I chased him, throwing as many snowballs as I could form. But none of them hit their target. He disappeared behind a row of trees to my left. Before I could find him, he showed up again behind me and said, “Catch me if you can,” and darted off as fast as a gazelle. I laughed as I raced after him.

  Once we became exhausted from chasing each other, we headed over to the lodge, which had been built in the traditional chalet style. Though it was still my first day in Innsbruck, so far everything about Austria was turning out to be exactly the way I’d always expected it to be and more. I could almost hear the von Trapp family from The Sound of Music singing. The chill I’d felt earlier had finally left me, and I noticed the wind had died down too. I never tired of staring at the Alps.

  “Do you mind getting my hot chocolate for me, Mark? I want to enjoy the scenery a little longer before heading inside.”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

  About an hour later, after we’d had our hot chocolates and had gone back into the lodge to warm up, Mark said, “My next surprise for you should be arriving soon. Let’s head back outside.”

  Before I could ask what my surprise was, I heard what sounded like a ringing in the distance. I followed Mark’s gaze and saw a horse-drawn carriage decked out in bells making its way toward us.

  The carriage driver halted the horses a few feet away and tipped his hat to me.