by Carol Grace
“You don’t know them,” he said. “I’ll ask you again at the end of the week.”
The week? Hadn’t he said she could stay the summer? What made him think she wouldn’t last any longer?
She lifted her glass to her lips. “The wine is delicious.”
“It’s a local vintage. I like to showcase our home-grown products to these big city people. Like the main course.”
The risotto, creamy and rich with butter, cream and cheese, came on a small plate. Next a waiter served a grilled lake fish called lavarello. On the side was a few spears of delicate white asparagus that came from their garden. More courses, each one irresistible, followed until Sabrina wondered how Italians stayed so slim.
“Do you eat like this every night?” she asked him, catching her breath between courses. Whatever she thought of him and his attempts to raise the girls, he had a profile that rivaled any in his portrait gallery and she decided he was by far the most attractive man at the table. No wonder she was tempted to steal occasional glances in his direction. When he met her gaze, she instantly looked away. Why wasn’t his fiancée here to play the hostess role?
“The girls eat in the kitchen with the cook since Nanny Chisholm left,” was Vittorio’s answer to her question. Sabrina glanced at the twins who’d told her that they always dressed for dinner. They were whispering to each other in Italian.
“And I have something light when I come home,” Vittorio continued. “After I’m married…”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Maybe he wasn’t sure how meals would be conducted after his marriage, so Sabrina said, “I don’t believe I’ve met your fiancée.”
“No, you haven’t,” he said brusquely.
Sabrina dropped the subject. The dinner seemed to go on and on, course after course, a salad of fennel and hearts of palm in a balsamic vinegar dressing followed by a veal scaloppini with a sauce made of Chardonnay, capers and lemon. There were fresh peaches for dessert soaked in red wine also made on the premises.
“From our orchard,” the prince said, pointing to the peaches.
“Delicious,” she said.
He gave her a long intense look then turned abruptly and began a conversation with the man next to him on the other side which sounded very business-like.
The twins, having eaten a few bites from each course, proceeded to put their elbows on the table, twisted their hair around their fingers and tapped their shoes loudly on the floor. Sabrina was restless too, but she didn’t know how to leave gracefully. Seated at the head of the table, it wasn’t possible to sneak out. Even if no one else noticed they’d left, the prince would.
Finally someone got up from the table, so she seized the opportunity, and said “Please excuse us.”
The prince hesitated only a moment, nodded and stood, pulling her chair out for her. She grabbed a twin in each hand, and firmly guided them to the stairway, sure that no one, especially their father, would mind if they disappeared.
The girls must have been tired, because they didn’t protest or say much. Maybe they were just tired of trying to behave or tired of dining with grown-ups. Anyway she walked to their room with them. Just a glance inside told her it was a fairy tale room with hand-painted murals on the wall of castles and unicorns, two four-poster beds and a desk with a late model American computer, a printer, speakers, and enough accessories for a small office.
“That’s all yours?” she asked.
“The man from the bank set it up for us. We are on Myspace,” Gianna said.
“We get lots of messages,” Caterina said.
“That’s good you’re computer literate. So tomorrow we’ll began the lessons,” Sabrina said. “We can use your computer.”
Again a look passed between the twins.
“We have summer camp tomorrow,” Caterina said.
“Sailing on the lake, and horseback riding.” Gianna added.
“All day?” Sabrina asked. She had to admit riding and sailing sounded better than studying for an entrance exam to a school they didn’t want to go to. But she had to make herself useful. Or face deportation.
They nodded happily.
Sabrina gave up, said good-night and went to her room, changed into the robe and sat on the balcony watching the lights around the lake reflected in the water. She listened to the waves gently lap against the boat dock. Somewhere across the water a man was singing an Italian song. Even though she didn’t understand a word except amor, she knew it must be about lost love. It was so poignant she almost cried. It had been two years since she’d fallen desperately in love with the one man she couldn’t have, the widowed father of little Laila who saw her only as a nanny, a trusted employee and not a possible wife.
She should be over it now. She thought she was. But there were times when the pain came back, throbbing like a wound that wouldn’t heal. Times like tonight when she was faraway from home and facing an uncertain future.
Later she heard voices drifting up from the patio beneath her room.
“Ciao,” they called.
“Arrivederci.”
The prince was saying good-bye to his guests while hundreds of fireflies flickered in the sky. Sabrina stood, leaned over the balcony and reached out as if she could capture the ephemeral lights in her hands. Just then the prince who was wrapped up in the magical, mystical green glow of the fireflies, looked up and saw her there. She felt dizzy. Maybe it was fatigue or jet lag or maybe it was Italy. Or maybe it was him standing below her, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark eyes flashing that made her feel faint.
She grasped the railing and told herself to go to bed. But her feet wouldn’t obey. As long as he stood there with his head tilted up, his gaze locked with hers, she couldn’t move. It was like the first sight of him from the ferry, only this time he wasn’t using binoculars. There was nothing between them but the misty night air. When at last someone called him, he finally broke eye contact and moved away and Sabrina went back to bed, feeling weak and tired and somehow disappointed. As if she’d expected something else to happen. A gesture or a word to acknowledge her presence.
She was being foolish. She was the nanny. Nothing more, nothing less. Like Cinderella, she’d been to the ball, but now it was past midnight and though she wasn’t a scullery maid, she wasn’t part of the social scene either. She didn’t have the clothes required or the background or even the inclination to mix with the upper classes. That was not her job, even though everyone had been nice to her tonight. As nice as they would be with any other servant.
She was so sleepy she forgot to check the bed before sliding between the super fine cotton sheets. As soon as she lay down she felt something dry and scaly move at the foot of the bed. She stifled a scream and jumped out of bed. There it was, just as she should have suspected, a foot-long harmless green garden snake she recognized immediately. She carefully picked up the snake and admired the faint markings and the color with detachment born of long experience. Then she put it in her bathtub intending to return it to the wild in the morning and speak to the twins about the care and feeding of reptiles.
Two hours later the breeze from the lake was wafting in the window and she was lying in her snake-free bed wide awake, wondering when the girls had gotten into her room to put the reptile in her bed. She regretted the nap she’d taken because now she was wide awake. If only she had something to read. Something soothing to put her to sleep. The house was quiet. Surely she could go down to the library and find a book in English without seeing anyone.
She knotted her robe tightly around her waist and tiptoed down the stairs, the stones feeling cold on her bare feet. After getting lost once or twice, she finally reached the double doors of the library. When she pushed them open and stepped inside, she saw him there, standing with his back to her in front of a portrait hanging over the mantle.
Sabrina froze. Her eyes swept the room. He was alone. She shouldn’t have come, she was intruding on his solitude. She stepped back to leave but when she pushe
d the door, the ancient brass hinges creaked. The prince whirled around.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I…I was just looking for something to read. I couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” It didn’t occur to her to mention the snake. It was one of the prime nanny rules – Don’t tell on the children unless they’ve committed a heinous crime or put themselves in the path of danger. A snake in the nanny’s bed didn’t fall into any category.
Vittorio’s hair was standing rakishly on end as if he’d ran his hands through it about ten times. His shirtsleeves rolled up above his elbows revealing even in the dim lights, tanned muscular arms.
“What do you think of her?” he asked, gesturing to the portrait. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Was beautiful.”
Sabrina nodded. There was no denying she was stunning looking.
“How do you like her dress?” he said. “Come closer where you can see it.”
Obediently Sabrina approached the painting. It was the same dress the twins gave her to wear tonight, the bright sash, the feathers and all. Sabrina gasped.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I had no idea.”
“No you didn’t,” he said. “But I think I know who did.”
“It was my idea to dress up,” she said. It was part of the rule – Always take responsibility for your actions. Don’t ever blame the children.
He gave her a long look. She hadn’t fooled him for a moment. “Can’t sleep?” he asked abruptly. “Neither can I. The dead have no such problem. Sit down, Ms West.”
It was not a request. It was an order. Sabrina pulled the lapels of her robe across her chest and sat in a leather library chair in front of the portrait. There was a long silence. She wanted to leave, but she’d been ordered to stay. Why?
“The dinner was very nice,’ she said politely. “Thank you for inviting me. I don’t understand why all the other nannies…”
“Why they left so soon when I’m such a good host and a fair and generous employer, is that what you were going to say?” he demanded, taking steps toward her until his face was only a few feet from hers. No longer the banker, billionaire prince, he looked disturbingly like any ordinary wildly gorgeous man awake and restless in the middle of the night which made it harder for her to keep in mind his status. In the wee, small hours of the morning, it almost seemed like they were equals. Two lonely people awake while the rest of the world slumbered. Was it memories of his beautiful ex-wife that kept him up?
“Well, yes,” she said, jerking herself back to reality and the job at hand. “And the girls are well-behaved and helpful.” Except for when they sneak into your room and insert a snake in your bed.
“So helpful they found you a dress for this evening.”
“I’m sure they didn’t mean…”
“I’m sure they did,” he said, taking a step backwards, to her relief. “They meant for you to look foolish and for me to react by firing you. They don’t want a nanny. I’m warning you, they will try to make you leave. They don’t want to go to boarding school either, Ms West.”
“I can’t imagine how they could make me leave, and Please call me Sabrina.”
“If you’ll call me Vittorio.”
“That’s different. I work for you.” This was as much a reminder to him as to her.
He rubbed his hand over his face. There were lines forked off from the corners of his eyes making him look tired.
“Are you sure you want to work for me?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “I’m here. I’ve accepted the job. I’m looking forward to it.” Not exactly true, but that’s all he needed to know.
He leaned against his desk and observed her from across the room. “I’m difficult to work for. But you already knew that. And still you came. Why?”
Why? Did he really want to know that she needed to prove she could be a nanny again without getting emotionally involved with her employer and his children? Did she need to spell out that her heart had been broken and never healed and she needed a change of scene? She decided on the truth. Perhaps not the whole truth, but a part of it.
“I’d never been to Italy or anywhere in Europe. I needed a change of venue and I thought it was a good opportunity…”
“To see how the privileged class mistreat their servants and their children?” His tone was caustic.
“To see a different world,” she continued. “To get out of the office, out of my comfortable rut. I love children. I thought it was time to reconnect with them and remind myself why I became a nanny in the first place.” That was certainly not too far from the truth. She did love children. Too much perhaps. No need to mention she’d been dispatched by her step-mother to keep the prince as a client.
“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “That sounds very reasonable. All I can say is good luck. It isn’t as if you weren’t warned. I assume the previous nannies filed their reports with you.”
“Ah…yes, yes they did. But one never knows…’
“One never knows who to believe, does one?” he asked. “There are two sides to every story, Sabrina. But you’re old enough to know that, aren’t you? Sabrina. Where have I heard that name before?”
“I..I don’t know.” The way he said her name made her feel faint. It was his accent or the late hour or just the way he looked at her. How long would she have to sit there in her robe with him staring at her, fielding his questions.
He went to a bookshelf and removed a slim leather-bound book. “Ah, here it is. Sabrina Fair. Your English poet, John Milton wrote it.” He leafed through the book then began reading.
She was about to protest that he wasn’t her poet, but he continued. “Listen where thou art sitting.” He pointed to her. “Under the glassy cool translucent wave. Goddess of the silver lake. Listen and save.” He read slowly, as if savoring the sound, with his deep rich voice and Italian accent making every word vibrate in the air.
“Sabrina Fair,” he said closing the book with a loud snap. “Goddess of the silver lake.” He waved an arm in the direction of the dark waters of Lake Como outside. “That’s it. That’s who you are.”
Chapter Four
Fortunately Sabrina was finally able to fall into a dreamless sleep later with the green snake still safely in the tub. Though after the encounter with Vittorio she was afraid she’d toss and turn for hours. No one had ever called her a goddess before, but of course he wasn’t serious. What kind of a goddess wears a robe and stumbles into a private library in the middle of the night? Even a goddess wouldn’t be immune to the electricity in the air when the prince was in the room. Apparently none of the other nannies noticed, probably never had time before being dismissed.
As for Sabrina, first she sat next to him at dinner, normally a place of honor, where his fiancée should have been. Then there was his voice in her ear, and his sleeve touching her bare arm causing chills to travel along her sensitive skin. Finally the encounter in his study. It was a wonder she slept at all.
When a maid knocked on her door the next morning and brought a tray in, she blinked rapidly, confused and light-headed. Was it day or night? And where was she?
The maid said “Buon giorno,” and when she pulled back the curtains Sabrina caught a glimpse of the lake shimmering in the distance, it all came back to her. The prince in his library reading poetry, and the way he said buona notte as she slipped away and up the stairs, his voice echoing in her ears. She was not in California anymore. Or was it all a dream?
Lake Como, dazzling in the morning sunshine, was real and right outside her window. She was a nanny again with a very sexy employer she would have no trouble keeping her distance from for the following reasons.
Reason Number one, she’d already made one mistake on that order and from that she’d learned to keep her heart under lock and key. Reason Number Two, the prince was from a different world than hers. A world she was only an observer to. A world she would never fit into no matter how long she stayed here.
Number Three, he was not her type. If she wanted to find a man, it wouldn’t be someone who was sending his children to boarding school to get rid of them. She was only interested in a family man. One who spent time at home. One who put home and children first. She didn’t really expect to find this perfect man, but she would never settle for less.
“The girls?” she asked the maid. She searched her mind for the right words. “Dove le ragazze sono?” Where are they? Where should they be? And where should she be? The maid said a few words in Italian and gestured toward the lower level of the villa. After a glance at the clock Sabrina took only a few sips of the coffee on her tray and a bite of a fresh flaky pastry before dressing quickly in Capri pants, a T-shirt and sandals. No more borrowed finery, no need to try to dress like she belonged here. She didn’t even want to. Thank God the traditional nanny outfit of a long skirt and high-buttoned blouse seen in the movies was obsolete and good riddance to it.
She took the snake who was doubtless glad to get out of her bathtub and holding it carefully by the neck, she descended the grand staircase. It was almost a repeat of the last time she’d come down the stairs, only this time the prince was at the door ready to depart for his office if his suit and tie were any indication and the girls came running from the kitchen as if they’d been waiting for her to appear.
It was another grand entrance, she realized as the three of them stopped as if they’d been freeze-framed at the sight of their new nanny appearing with a snake wrapped around her arm.
For a moment there was total silence, then they all spoke at once.
“Where did that snake come from?” the prince demanded.
“Oh, no,” Gianna said.
“It wasn’t our fault,” Caterina said.
“Look what I found,” Sabrina said brightly. “On my balcony. I love snakes, don’t you?” she asked the girls. “This one is a beauty.”
“We have to leave now,” Gianna said and they grabbed their backpacks from the coat rack by the door and ran outside to the waiting car.
