Natalie! Without thinking, Fabrizio picked her up and carried her toward his house.
Natalie struggled to wakefulness. Where was she? Not at the Brown. Not at home. Half dream, half memories flitted through her mind. She recalled strong arms bearing her across the snow as though she were as light as a snowflake, lips brushing her forehead. Had that actually happened? The mere possibility made her blush. I’m at Fabrizio’s house.
“The signorina is awake.” An older woman, hair flecked here and there with gray, bent over the bed. She poured water from a pitcher.
“You must be Mrs. Ricci.” Fabrizio’s mother. She could see the resemblance in their lively brown eyes, their well-formed ears.
“Call me Rosa.”
“What happened?”
“You passed out from the fever. The doctor told us to keep you here until you were better. Now you are awake again.” Rosa fiddled with a packet and took out two pills. “The doctor said for you to take these.”
Natalie swallowed them with the glass of water.
“Now I will fix you a bowl of soup. Sofia, come here! I promised Fabrizio that we would not leave you alone,” Rosa explained. “He is outside helping his papa with firewood.”
Not one, but four young women ranging in age from maybe ten to eighteen, crowded around the doorway. Fabrizio’s sisters.
“We heard voices.” The smallest girl scooted forward under her older sisters’ arms. “And we’re all anxious to meet the signorina.” She took a step toward the bed and curtsied. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Daire. I’m Isabella. The youngest.”
Mrs. Ricci disappeared while the others came forward. Natalie made mental notes. Sofia, the eldest, lived at home while waiting for her upcoming wedding in the spring. Angela, the next oldest, wore an apron and refilled Natalie’s water glass. Studious Maria wore glasses perched on top of her nose, a book of poetry in her hand. After brief introductions, Sofia shooed the rest of the family away. Soon Natalie fell back asleep.
When she woke again, Natalie sat up in the bed and looked around the room. The presence of a framed wedding picture and a man’s pipe on the nightstand suggested it was the Riccis’ room. Her maid at home had larger quarters. She felt embarrassed. I kicked them out of their own room.
“Can I get you something, signorina?” The studious girl appeared in front of Natalie. What was her name? Maria, that was it. The girl straightened the glasses on her nose.
Before Natalie could answer, she heard a brisk knock at the door, and a stranger entered, followed by Fabrizio.
“I see our patient is awake. This is good.” The doctor put a thermometer into Natalie’s mouth and placed his stethoscope against her chest. “Much better. The Riccis have taken good care of you.”
“I am well enough to leave?” The warmth of the loving family invited her to stay, but she couldn’t. She shouldn’t inconvenience them any longer than necessary.
“Not yet. You need to rest and regain your strength. You may get up for a short time today if you feel up to it. I will return tomorrow, and we will see.”
Mrs. Ricci chased the girls out of the room after the doctor, leaving Natalie alone with Fabrizio.
With a start, Natalie realized that she had never before seen Fabrizio dressed in everyday clothes. He looked every bit as handsome as he did in his uniform. But the same dark curls sprang from his head, and the same impressive muscles rippled underneath a plain white cotton shirt. He settled into the rocking chair beside the bed and dangled his hands between his legs. Before Natalie could speak, he began. “Natalie. I was so worried. You should not have left the Brown so soon.”
Speaking of the Brown, why wasn’t Fabrizio at work? Did he stay at home for her sake? Natalie waved aside his apologies. “I can’t thank you and your family enough for everything they’ve done. This is your parents’ room, isn’t it?”
Fabrizio nodded. “Papa joined me in the attic room, and Mama is sleeping with Sofia.” He smiled. “It is a good thing that Nonno Fabrizio is staying with my older brother.”
“Nonno Fabrizio? Who is that? Are you named for him?”
“Certamente. My brother, Giacomo, is named for Papa’s father, and I am named for Mama’s father. It is the custom among Italians. I would like for you to meet my nonno. You would like him.”
I will, if he’s half as wonderful as you are. “I hope I will, someday.” Will his family become my family? At that moment, Natalie realized how much she wished it could happen. Did he kiss me? Heat rushed to her cheeks.
Concerned, Fabrizio jumped out of the chair. “We have tired you out.”
“No, I’m fine.” Natalie protested. But she slipped down on the pillow and allowed him to tuck the corners of the quilt around her shoulders. She relished the strength of his hands, his nearness, and wished he would kiss her again. If he had indeed kissed her and it wasn’t just a dream.
“Fino ad allora, cara Natalie. Rest well.” He closed the curtains against the sunshine and left as Mrs. Ricci returned.
When Fabrizio had passed beyond earshot, Natalie asked Rosa, “What does ‘cara’ mean?”
The woman smiled secretively. “It means beloved.”
Natalie tingled from head to toe. “Cara Fabrizio,” she whispered under her breath.
Chapter 9
Fabrizio paced the tiny attic loft that he shared with his father. Today was the last day Natalie would spend in his house. The doctor had called the Daire home when she had improved enough to travel. And it was time, past time, for him to return to his job at the Brown Palace. He had used the phone at a nearby cheese factory and called the manager, pleading a family emergency.
“Take as long as you need,” came the reply.
Fabrizio examined his memories of the past few days. Who ever would have imagined that the rich young heiress who ran her Cadillac into a vegetable stand would bring so much joy into his life? He had glimpsed her warm nature at the Brown, in the way she included Mrs. Rushton in the parties, in the activities she planned for the children, in the hats and mittens she fashioned out of scarlet wool.
These last few days had shown him a new side of his beloved. She listened to Maria read poetry; she ate every dish his mother served without question—with relish, even. She discussed wedding plans with Sofia as if she were a member of the bridal party. She acted as though she belonged in their household, unselfconscious and unpretentious. When he came across Sofia and Angela exclaiming over two lovely dresses, he knew that the ever-generous Natalie had even given away her clothing. He loved her more than ever.
And today he could lose her. Cochran, the driver, would return and escort her back to the world that awaited her. Could she care for him? Mama told him that Natalie had repeated his words, calling him “Cara Fabrizio.” But first he must speak with her father, and that prospect frightened him almost more than the big snow.
“Are you coming down?” Little Isabella peeked around the door. “You must say good-bye.”
“I am coming.” Fabrizio turned away from the window and followed his sister, who skipped down the stairs. He made the final sharp turn in the narrow stairs that climbed from the basement pantry to the attic and came upon Natalie in the front room. She was wearing his favorite blue dress, one that floated about her like angels’ wings. She must have sensed his presence, for she turned and smiled at him. For one unguarded moment, he let his feelings camp on his features, all the longing and impossible love he felt for her. Then he reined in his emotions. “Natalie.” The effort spent on restraining himself made her lovely name come out curt, sharp.
“Fabrizio.” In contrast, her voice softened, almost capturing the exact accent on the r. She gestured to his mother. “I was just telling your mother that you and Sofia must come to my birthday party on the twenty-fourth. I would be most pleased.”
Natalie’s birthday. Hotel gossip said that on the day she turned twenty-one, she would inherit a fortune. She will forget about me. He paused on the last step.
Her gray eyes locked with his, se
nding a silent plea. I want you there. You are special to me.
The soft sound of a horse’s nicker interrupted their silent communication. Out the window, Fabrizio could see the fancy Daire sleigh. The driver, Cochran, had returned, bringing a stranger with him. A well-dressed, imposing man who could only be Natalie’s father approached the house. Cochran remained in the driver’s seat. A lump the size of a snowball formed in Fabrizio’s throat.
Sweet Isabella dashed forward and flung open the door. “Benvenuto, Signore! You must be Natalie’s father. Welcome to our home.”
Daire did not reply right away. His bulk filled the doorway while his gaze surveyed the small quarters, crowded today with the entire Ricci family eager to welcome him. With his hair expertly barbered and his coat tailored to an exact fit, he looked as out of place as a flower blooming on Christmas Eve. His gaze settled on Natalie, and the solemn expression on his face eased.
Hesitant, almost shy, Natalie approached and kissed her father on the cheek. Although the quiet greetings didn’t match the exuberant welcome his father received every evening, Fabrizio could not deny the affection in their reunion. Daire held his daughter at arm’s length. “We were so worried.”
“There was no need. The Riccis have taken good care of me. Let me introduce you.”
Natalie introduced each member of the family with a brief biography. Again, she amazed Fabrizio with how much she had learned about them in such a short time, in spite of her illness. Last of all, she introduced the two men.
“Father, this is Fabrizio Ricci. The man who rescued me during the storm and who brought me into his house when I fell ill. We—we spent a lot of time together at the Brown.”
Although Natalie didn’t mention the fact, her father must know that he worked at the hotel.
“So you’re the one who let my daughter travel when she was already sick.”
Fabrizio gulped. “I did not realize …”
A twinkle appeared in Daire’s eyes, and the snowball in Fabrizio’s throat began melting. “If I know my daughter, she did not leave you much choice.” He greeted each family member by name. At last he asked Mama, “Is there a place where I may speak privately with your son?”
The melting snowball re-formed in Fabrizio’s throat. Mama led them to the kitchen. Neither man spoke while she made a fresh pot of coffee. While it brewed, she sliced some cream cake and laid it on her best china. After she poured the coffee, she left the room and shut the door on the waiting family.
Fabrizio sipped the coffee, hoping its warmth would ease the tension freezing his muscles. It did not.
“I understand that you work as a coachman at the Brown Palace.” Daire broke the silence.
“Yes, sir.” Something compelled Fabrizio to share a dream he had told few people. “Although some day I hope to open my own garage. I am good with the engines.”
“Hmm.” Daire’s fingers drummed the polished surface of the table that had seen so many family dinners. He looked out the kitchen windows without appearing to see. “Did your family pay for the doctor? Medicine?” He reached into his pocket.
“Non, I mean, yes, we paid, but it was our privilege. We do not need your money.” Now I sound like an ungrateful child. How can I ask this stranger for permission to court his daughter? Fabrizio sent a prayer heavenward and opened his mouth to speak.
But what Daire said next stopped Fabrizio from speaking. “Ricci, I have the impression that you care for my daughter.”
Is it so obvious? “Molto, very much.” Fabrizio set the cup on the saucer and looked straight at Daire. Natalie’s eyes looked at him out of her father’s face. “I would like permission to court your daughter.”
Daire met his gaze. “I, too, was once young and in love and ambitious. In fact, I was brash enough to ask the richest man in Denver for permission to court his beloved child.”
Fabrizio held his breath.
“That was so long ago. I’ve forgotten what it was like.” Daire spoke more to himself than to Fabrizio. “But seeing your family here reminds me of my own beginnings.” Daire took a bite of the cream cake. “This is delicious. I’ll have to applaud your mother.” He didn’t speak again while he finished the food.
Fabrizio couldn’t eat, even though he loved Mama’s cream cake. He watched Daire’s mouth opening and closing around his fork and imagined all the terrible things he would say.
Daire drank the last of his coffee. His lips curved in the same way Natalie’s did when she felt mischievous. “Yes, you have my permission to court my Natalie.”
What is going on in the kitchen? Natalie wished she could have remained in the front room with her ear pressed to the kitchen door. Instead, she had retired to the second floor bedroom that Angela shared with Maria. All the girls waited with her.
“Perhaps Fabrizio is asking for your hand in marriage.” Isabella spoke the words that Natalie dreamed. “Would you like to be our sorella, sister, Natalie?”
“Hush, bambina.” Mama Rosa quieted her youngest. But her eyes asked the same question.
“I …” Natalie was saved from answering by the sound of Father’s shout from below.
“Natalie?”
“Coming, Father.” Natalie hugged each of the Ricci women in turn. They followed her down the steps, forming a human staircase. Fabrizio waited at the bottom. The uneasiness she had sensed in him earlier had disappeared, his shoulders straightened as if relieved of a heavy weight.
Father’s face betrayed no emotion. “Go ahead, my dear. I will join you in a moment.” Perhaps he intended to pay Mrs. Ricci for her care.
“I will walk you to the sleigh.” Fabrizio had slipped the familiar green and yellow scarf around his neck. He held her coat for her to put on. Once outside, he slipped her hand into his. “Your father, he has given me permission to court you. I think that you will not mind.”
Natalie felt light-headed, as if her illness threatened a relapse. “Oh, Fabrizio, I was so afraid …”
“You were afraid of me?” Fabrizio’s teasing voice somehow stilled the tempest in her heart.
“Of course not. I was afraid that you would let … things … come between us.” The light-headedness persisted, and she grabbed his hands to steady her. “I have loved being with your family, in your home. I am not afraid of what the future holds. As long as it is with you.”
“That is good.” Fabrizio brushed his lips over the small portion of her cheek exposed to the elements. “I will see you again. Soon.”
Two weeks later, Natalie held on to the memory of Fabrizio’s kiss while she dressed for her birthday party. Choosing the right outfit with the seamstress had proven harder than she expected. She wanted to look her best, but she did not want to look, well, expensive. She did not want Fabrizio to think she expected fine clothes and the latest fashions.
When she first left the Ricci home, she felt certain that she was living out her own fairy story, a God-ordained match made in heaven. The days since then had blurred her initial joy. She and Fabrizio had spoken twice by phone. The conversations left her unsettled, neither of them able to express their true feelings, knowing that others could listen in. She could not see those beautiful dark eyes that gave away his feelings when his words did not, or the hands that moved so surely over anything he touched. Even the hoped-for visit when he had returned her Cadillac did not occur. He left before she finished with the dressmaker.
She had told a few friends about her own private big snow miracle. “How romantic,” they all chimed; but she knew they made fun of her behind her back. Tonight she would show them differently. She would walk through the door to her party on the arm of Fabrizio, and they would see his sterling quality for themselves. The only ones who seemed to understand were the same group of friends who attended Thalia Bloom’s party. In fact, she had learned that the early Christmas snow had brought romance to all four of them.
She looked forward to seeing her friends again this evening. They understood how ambivalent she felt about receiving con
trol of her inheritance today. She had plans for the money, plans she had not even told her father. Plans that would make sure the money would do good and not come between her and Fabrizio.
Natalie fidgeted while her maid adjusted the stiff collar of her dress around her neck. She hoped Fabrizio liked her outfit, a pretty claret-colored linen with an ecru bib. Next, Annette dressed her hair in her favorite Grecian style. Natalie tugged a few tendrils to curl around her face. Fabrizio seemed to like it that way.
Deep voices drifted up the stairs, and Natalie sprang to her feet. “Is that …”
“I’ll look.” Annette tiptoed to the top of the stairs and ran back. “Mr. Ricci is here.” She sounded as excited as Natalie felt, her stomach happy and bubbling like hot cider. She checked the mirror one last time and descended the stairs slowly, the way a lady should.
Fabrizio—her Fabrizio—waited at the foot of the stairs. Dressed in a new suit that showed off his broad shoulders; hair cut to a perfect curl above the collar; tall, dark, and handsome as ever—he took her breath away. He had braved her world to come to her party. He bowed low, as courtly as an Italian count, and presented her with a single red rose. “Many happy returns of your birthday, Natalie. A rose to dress you in scarlet.” Did she imagine it, or did a faint blush tinge his dark cheeks?
Natalie fingered the rose, lifted it to her nose, and inhaled the scent. The color red would forever symbolize their love.
“I will put the rose in a vase, miss.” Annette took the flower from her hands. “In your room.”
“Perfect. I can fall asleep looking at it.” And Fabrizio would not feel embarrassed comparing his single perfect rose with the abundant bouquets lining the ballroom.
Natalie accepted Fabrizio’s arm and walked toward the waiting guests.
Chapter 10
Dressed in his first-ever new suit, Fabrizio felt almost worthy of Natalie. He drank in the warmth shining in her eyes, her exclamations over the rose he had found for her. But the splendor of the Daire mansion dazzled him. The initial feelings of goodwill evaporated when they entered the ballroom.
Mountain Christmas Brides Page 57
