Those Blue Tuscan Skies

by Marion Ueckermann

  Rose and Joseph nodded.

  Arabella gathered up Joseph’s designs and handed them back to him. “Would you mind giving me and Rosa a moment alone?” She passed Rose’s designs back to her, too.

  “Of course, no problem.” Joseph stood and carefully pushed the boards back into his briefcase. He turned to Rose. “I’ll wait for you in the showroom.” He stepped around to the other side of the desk then stooped toward Arabella.

  “Arrivederci.”

  Arabella laughed. “I’m not finished with you. After Rosa, I’d also like to speak with you privately, as well.”

  Rose swallowed hard. Why would she want to speak to them both separately?

  Joseph straightened. “I’ll still wait in the showroom.” He pivoted and strode toward the door.

  “Joseph,” Arabella called after him. “Close the door on your way out. Per favore.”

  Alone, Arabella folded her hands together and leaned her elbows on the desk. She rested her chin on her clasped hands and released a deep sigh as she stared at Rose. “I have missed you so much, Rosa. It is good to see you again. How have you been?”

  “Busy. Working. Building my career and my business, of which I have you to thank for its success. You taught me well, Arabella.” If only she’d taught Rose her ribbon embroidery, she wouldn’t need to be sitting here in this office. In Italy.

  Rose looked down as her fingers fidgeted with the ends of her cotton blouse. She fought against the moisture forming in her eyes. “I–I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact. One year rolled into two, which rolled into three. Now we’re here—five years down the line since we last spoke.”

  “And in all that time, have you told him?”

  Eyes still downcast, Rose moved her head from side to side. Have you told him? she wanted to ask, but couldn’t muster the courage. Perhaps she was afraid of the answer.

  “Until two weeks ago, I haven’t seen Joseph since the day I left him in Florence.”

  “You need to tell him, Rosa.”

  Rose raised her head. “Why?”

  “Because he deserves the truth from you. And because he still loves you.”

  “Still loves me?” Couldn’t be.

  “Yes. I can tell.” Arabella smiled.

  “What good would it do to bring up that old hurt? It’s best he never finds out. I live with too much pain…the not knowing… I couldn’t put that on him, too.”

  Arabella rose from her chair and stepped around her desk to sit down beside Rose in the seat Joseph had vacated. She reached for Rose’s hand. “Rosa, you need to give him more credit. I believe he’ll be more understanding than you think. Trust me, your silence could be more harmful than good. For you both.”

  Rose squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and sighed. “I–I don’t know.”

  “I didn’t want to do this, Rosa, but you leave me no choice.” Releasing Rose’s hand, Arabella pushed to her feet.

  Rose’s chest tightened. She’s going to tell. The moment I step out of this room and Joseph steps back inside, she’s going to tell him.

  “Please know I do not say these words lightly.” She folded her arms and gazed down at Rose. “I will embroider your designs for your sister’s wedding…on one condition. Tell Joseph the truth. Tonight.”

  Chapter Seven

  ROSE LEANED BACK AGAINST THE cool cream leather of Joseph’s gun-metal gray Maserati and closed her eyes. Her hair whipped in the breeze, and she smoothed the strands away from her face before pulling her light cardigan tighter around her.

  “Are you cold?” Joseph asked. “I could close the roof.”

  She opened her eyes and turned her head to gaze at him. “The night air does have a nip in it.” On top of that, goodness knew what was happening to her hair. “Would you mind?”

  Leaning forward, Joseph pressed a button on the console. The roof purred as it slowly encased them, shutting out the cool breeze. “Better?”

  Rose nodded and smiled as she smoothed back her hair one last time. “Much.”

  “Are you all right? You’ve been really quiet since you spoke privately to Arabella. Would you like to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “I’m okay. I’ve a lot on my mind, that’s all.” She twisted in her seat to face him. “You’ve been pretty pensive, too. Something you’d like to talk about?”

  He puckered his lips before letting out a “No.”

  “So what did she talk to you about?” Rose pushed.

  Joseph focused his attention on the road ahead and the city traffic. “Uhm…just wedding stuff to do with the groom and groomsmen’s clothing.”

  She could claim the same, amongst other things. Except the brief wedding discussion had come with an ultimatum. Had she issued Joseph one, too? And if so, what?

  Silence descended between them as Joseph weaved his car through the streets of Milan to the restaurant north-west of the city where he’d made a reservation. It was nice of him to offer to take her to dinner. And of course she’d jumped at the invitation. The clock was ticking on Arabella’s demand.

  Just past Castello Sforzesco, the huge medieval-renaissance fortress with historical museums and artworks by da Vinci and Michelangelo, Joseph slowed the sports car to a stop.

  He smiled. “Ah, parking almost right outside.” His eyes flitted between the side mirror and the rearview mirror as he parallel parked.

  Rose looked through the windscreen to the blue sign hanging above a large black metal gate. “Pittura Cibo.” Able to translate the two words, she gave a nervous laugh. “Food painting? What on earth do you have planned, Joseph?”

  “A ten-course food degustation by master chef, Vincenzo.” He moistened his lips.

  Rose widened her eyes and gasped. “The Vincenzo?”

  Joseph flashed a smile. “There’s more than one?”

  “Oh my word! That’s a triple-Michelin restaurant! Clover is going to be so jealous—not about the Michelin stars, but about dining at Vincenzo’s.” She leaned forward and grabbed her handbag from the floor. “Do you mind if I WhatsApp her quickly? She has been raving about his food art for months.”

  “Be my guest. We can even take selfies over dinner and send her the pics. I’m certain we can get one with Vincenzo, too. I know him well.

  “You do?” Her sister was going to freak out.

  He smiled and waggled his brows. “And he always does his rounds to the tables during the course of dinner.”

  “How does he manage to do that?” Clover barely had time to dash out for a quick hello.

  “The place is small and intimate. And he usually only appears around course ten.”

  Rose dug her hand into her bag and pulled out her cell phone. She slid her finger across the screen, selected the green icon and began typing. When she was done, she turned to Joseph again. “I’m sorry—did you say ten-course?”

  He nodded. “Don’t worry, the portions are small. You’re going to love this. It’s truly art on a plate.”

  “How long will ten courses take?”

  “About three hours. Perhaps a little longer. Depends.”

  Rose’s phone pinged. She lifted it to read the return WhatsApp message from Clover.

  You’re kidding!!! I so want to be you right now!

  A smile tugged at her mouth then faded fast. No, you don’t. Not if you knew what I have to do tonight. Rose resisted the urge to answer her sister’s message. She’d told Clover the exciting news. She didn’t want this to turn into a full blown chat. That would simply be rude. She hated it when people did that when they were in company. And Joseph was patiently waiting for her so they could get out of the car.

  The phone pinged again. She gave Joseph an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’m turning this off now so we can go inside and enjoy our dinner.” She lifted the phone to read. Last one.

  Do you know how much that meal will cost? Easy 150 euro each. Hold onto this man! Not only does he have money, he’s drop-dead gorgeous, AND he has impeccable taste. What more could a g
irl want? If you don’t want him, I’m claiming dibs.

  Right… The screen turned to black as Rose pressed the sleep button. She slid the phone back into her bag and breathed out a sigh. If only she could hold onto Joseph, but after tonight, he’d likely never want to speak to her or see her again. Good thing he was paying a lot for this meal and that it was going to take hours to get through all the courses. It would take Rose several of those to pluck up the courage to speak to him. Hopefully he’d be reluctant to walk out on her when she told him her tale.

  If only she didn’t have to, but the fact that she could be the reason Maggie didn’t get her dream dress… She couldn’t. She had to do whatever it took to please Arabella. Even baring her deepest, darkest secret. Besides, she was weary, so weary, of lugging it around with her. Every day. Maybe now she could set it aside, once and for all.

  Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

  The scripture came to Rose as clear as if someone had whispered it in her ear. I need rest from this, Lord. Please will You give it to me? Please help me to tell Joseph the truth. All of it. And please, don’t let him hate me.

  “Rosa, are you ready to go?”

  Huh? She looked at him. What had he just said?

  “You’re not moving. You’re sitting there staring into space. Do you feel all right?”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I was lost in my thoughts. I’m fine. Anxious for this meal, though.” She flashed a smile. “In a good way.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  Rose turned to open her door.

  “Stay there.” Joseph hopped out of the driver’s side, and hurried around the car to Rose’s door. He has manners too, Clover.

  He slid his arm around her waist as they walked through the gated entrance and down a cobbled alleyway lined with beautiful window boxes filled with spring flowers. How absolutely quaint. This could only bode for an amazing experience inside.

  They were immediately shown to their table in a secluded corner beside the window that looked onto the small courtyard filled with flowers. Tables with candles were set between the blooms for those brave enough to sit through a dinner outside on a cool evening—although the alleyway and courtyard had seemed far warmer than outside in the street. The view reminded Rose of her daddy’s greenhouses, sans the tables.

  Their reserved spot was perfect. No patrons sat close enough to hear what would go down later. Hopefully, being inside this exclusive public place, Joseph would be inclined to withhold the anger he undoubtedly would spew. But she still had to ride home with him. Unless she ordered the chauffeur car services of Uber. She had the app on her phone—used them in London all the time.

  One plate after the next arrived—each wanting to be more amazing, more tasty than its predecessor. Forget food art, some of the courses were pure theatre on the plate. Both theatre and art lovers, Rose and Joseph soon got into a discussion over every single course that arrived—analyzing the art, the theatre, and what Chef Vincenzo tried to convey on each plate, from the oysters with pickled chorizo, toasted sesame, garlic and chives served on a bed of foam, to the beef carpaccio with radish, rocket, and rosemary flowers with mustard mayonnaise, to the veal scaloppini with porcini mushrooms and truffle sauce. Not to mention the other courses they had waded through. Their discussions had created a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere, and Rose soon forgot about what she needed to do tonight.

  “Joseph, ciao.”

  The strong Italian accent pulled Rose from their conversation to the imposing chef standing at the side of their table, his name embroidered across the side of the white jacket sleeve facing her. Vincenzo.

  “It is good to see you, old friend.” Vincenzo held out his hand.

  Joseph gripped the chef’s hand and shook it as he stood to give the man a bear hug.

  Vincenzo turned his gaze to Rose for a moment before looking back at Joseph. “Who is this vision of beauty?”

  “A friend of mine, Rose Blume.”

  “Friend? Joseph, Joseph. I would make her far more than a friend. Before someone else does.” Vincenzo stepped toward Rose then bent over to give her the customary Italian greeting—a kiss on each cheek. “Troppo bello. Too beautiful.”

  Was he kidding? Maggie yes. Or Clover. Or any of her other sisters. But her, Rose Blume? She classified herself in the ordinary girl category.

  Vincenzo clapped his hands then rubbed them together. “Right. Are you ready for your final course?”

  What? They were at dessert already? Only coffee remained after that. A course Joseph wouldn’t skip. This was, after all, Italy, and he was pure-bred Italian. She’d need to tell him over this final course. She didn’t want to be stuck doing the deed on the drive home. A public place was far more preferable. At least dessert might sweeten the bitter news.

  Joseph laughed. “I’m more than ready for this one. You know how much I love my sweet stuff.”

  “Almost as much as you love your coffee,” Rose quipped in return.

  Vincenzo raised a brow and gave a wide smile as he rested his hands on their table and leaned closer. “Seems you might know each other as more than just friends?”

  Joseph shook his head. “That’s for us to know.” He winked at Rose. “So, Chef Vincenzo, what sweet surprise do you have for us tonight?”

  The chef straightened. “Chocolate and caramel mousse with Frangelico gel, salted caramel ice cream and a hazelnut tuile with a side serving of hot caramel sauce.”

  Sounded divine, but Rose couldn’t help feeling a tad disappointed.

  “And those pinched lips on such a beautiful mouth?”

  Vincenzo didn’t miss a thing when reading his clientele. Rose hadn’t even realized she’d tightened her lips.

  She shrugged and smiled. “You’ll think me silly.”

  He eyed her, raising that brow again. “Try me.”

  “It’s just…ever since Joseph and I had dinner with my sister and her fiancé two weeks ago, I’ve been dying for some of the Italian Kisses I missed out on. I–I wasn’t feeling well that night.”

  Vincenzo chuckled. “I’m certain Joseph could help you out on that one.”

  “And I’m certain the great Chef Vincenzo could help the lady out with her desires, too.” Joseph’s stare dared the chef, deflecting the attention away from himself and his friend’s suggestion. “How difficult can it be for a chef like yourself to accommodate the lady’s wishes?”

  “Ha, touché.” Vincenzo whirled on his heel. “I’ll be back.”

  Rose smiled as the image of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his Terminator outfit filled her mind. She turned her attention to Joseph. “Thank you.”

  “It’s no problem. Should be easy enough for him to whip up.” Joseph tipped his head toward Vincenzo’s retreating form.

  “I wasn’t talking about the dessert. I meant thank you for not pursuing his suggestion and joking along with him.” Although she wouldn’t mind some of those kisses tonight, too.

  Fat chance of that happening. Ever. Unless she fainted again.

  An ache formed in her chest at the thought that she’d never again taste his sweet lips.

  Joseph’s mouth turned up at the sides. “What do you think about the dessert that’s lined up?”

  They made small talk, speculating about what the dessert would look like, how it would taste… She needed to tell him. But not just yet. Vincenzo had promised to be back.

  And he kept his promise, returning ten, maybe fifteen minutes after he’d left. In his hands he bore two large white plates.

  “Two degustation tasting menu desserts—one with six Italian Kisses, one without.”

  He slid the plates onto the table in front of her and Joseph—his being the emptier offering.

  Joseph flashed Vincenzo a look. “Why didn’t I get the same?”

  The chef chuckled. “Because you didn’t ask. We’re accommodating the lady’s wishes, remember. And she’s far prettier than you.”

  “I’ll share,�
�� Rose whispered across the table then grinned at Vincenzo.

  “While you’re here, Vincenzo, can we take some selfies with you?” Joseph asked. “Rose wants to send them to her sister.”

  “But of course.” The chef knelt beside Rose, leaning on the fabric armrest.

  Joseph stood and his chair scraped on the wooden floor as he pushed it back. He pulled out his cell phone then moved around Vincenzo to the other side of Rose. Extending his arm, he said, “Cheese.”

  “Mascarpone, gorgonzola, or parmesan?” Vincenzo laughed.

  So did Rose and Joseph as the flash went off.

  “One more…for good luck.” Joseph took the photo as they all shouted out the name of their favorite cheese all at the same time.

  “Sibling rivalry?” Vincenzo asked Rose as he pushed to his feet while Joseph returned to his seat.

  She shook her head. “My sister is head chef at The Silver Spoon in London.”

  Vincenzo raised his brows, something he seemed to do a lot. Must be his habit.

  “Almost as difficult a restaurant to get into as mine,” he said. “Unless you know someone. What did you say her name was?”

  “I didn’t.” Rose smiled. “But it’s Clover Blume. You probably don’t know her.”

  “On the contrary, I have heard about her. A bold little cook she is and rising to become one of the cream-of-the-crop…so I’m told.”

  Fancy that. Clover would be over the moon when she heard what Vincenzo had said.

  “Enjoy the dessert. Coffee will be along shortly. I probably won’t see you again, so let me bid you both good night.” Vincenco patted Joseph on the back then moved to Rose and kissed her on the cheeks. “That’s two more for you. Arrivederci, fair Rose.”

  Alone. At last.

  Rose slid half the Italian Kisses onto Joseph’s plate. He opened his mouth to protest but she reached across the table and placed her finger on his lips. “It’s only fair. After all, you arranged them for us, and I could really not eat six. They’d only go to waste.” She spooned one into her mouth and allowed it to melt. “Ooh, divine.”