Bride By Choice

CHAPTER FOUR

ON LORENZO’S last day in New York Helen dropped into his room and found him deep in the throes of packing.

‘Nearly finished,’ he said. ‘Now I have to see Fives to settle a few final points. Can you come with me?’

‘I don’t know, but I will anyway,’ she said, thinking of the time to come when he wouldn’t be there.

He was at Fives for an hour, spent another hour finalising the lease on extra warehouse space, and then he was finished. There were still three hours to kill before she would drive him to the airport. They had a snack in a burger bar, eating almost in silence. Suddenly there was nothing to say.

Central Park lay on their way back. After the bleak winter the trees were in bloom, glorious white and pink against the blue of the sky. He took her hand and began to walk slowly.

She wondered where they were going, but soon she realised they weren’t going anywhere. For an hour they walked under the trees, hand in hand, and her heart was heavy. It was like the last day of the vacation, when you were still there but it was all over.

‘I guess it’s time to go,’ he said at last.

She drove him to JFK and waited while he checked in for the evening flight from New York to Rome.

‘There’s a few minutes before they call me,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a drink.’

He bought an orange juice for her and a scotch for himself, and they sat smiling, saying the things people say when they don’t know what else to say.

‘Have you got everything?’ she asked.

‘Too late now if I haven’t. I’ve got my passport and tickets, so I won’t go far wrong.’

‘That’s true.’

Silence.

‘You’ve got better weather for going home than you had arriving,’ she said valiantly.

‘Well, it’s spring now. Sicily will be beautiful. All blossoms.’

‘So you’re glad to be going?’

‘I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again. But I’ve had a great time.’

‘So have I.’

‘Will you have problems with your family when I’m gone?’

‘I’ll just say we changed our minds. What can they do? Anyway,’ she added on a teasing note, ‘I promise to reveal nothing until you’re safely out of the way.’

‘Thanks,’ he said with feeling. ‘But seriously, I wouldn’t like to think of you having trouble.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘I just hope Giorgio doesn’t make himself unpleasant.’

‘Giorgio’s always unpleasant about something. If he shouts I’ll shout back. I’m good at letting people know when I’m mad at them.’

‘Yeah, I remember.’

And there they were, back in the first evening, with her saying she was good’n mad, and him not fighting back because that wasn’t his way, and anyway he didn’t have a leg to stand on. And they’d both known that the problem was the kiss he’d stolen, which was unlike any other kiss. And they’d also both known that the problem wasn’t going to go away.

‘Maybe they’ll get to like Erik,’ Lorenzo suggested. ‘When they’ve forgiven you for preferring him to me.’

Preferring him to you? she thought. Oh, you shouldn’t have said that.

‘I’ll be working with Erik from now on. In fact, I’ll be joining him tonight at some hotel function.’

‘Beware hotel functions,’ he said with a grin. ‘You meet some weird characters there.’

‘I shall be quite safe with Erik,’ she said primly. ‘He’s always the perfect gentleman.’

‘Nobody ever accused me of being a perfect gentleman.’

He grinned again, and she wished he hadn’t, because it made her realise how much she was going to miss his sweet temper and the sunshine he carried with him. This was really it. He was going away and she might never see him again.

‘If they do, I’ll put them straight,’ she assured him.

Ten minutes to go.

‘The important thing is that you’re running your own life, not letting your parents run it for you,’ he reminded her.

‘With your help. We really outflanked them, didn’t we?’

‘We certainly did.’

Silence.

‘Can I get you another drink?’ he asked desperately.

‘Just an orange juice, please.’

‘Sure. I don’t want to get you in trouble with Elroys. If you’re meeting Erik I expect you need to hurry back.’

‘I’ll see you into the departure lounge, but I won’t wait for take off.’

‘No, no, of course not. I wouldn’t expect-I mean, I know you’re busy.’

‘Yes, fine.’

‘Fine.’

Silence.

‘How is Erik about everything?’ he asked

‘Everything?’

‘You and me-I mean, seeing so much of each other this last week?’

‘He mentioned you when he called last night and said he was glad I was keeping a close eye on the hotel’s interests.’

‘That’s all he said?’ Lorenzo was outraged.

‘Yes. Which is lucky.’

‘Well, OK, but if I’d heard-I mean if the girl that I-if she-you’re right. It’s good that he’s so reasonable. Sure. Right. Fine.’

Five minutes to go. Their drinks arrived. Four minutes. Time was slipping past and there was something she ought to say, but she didn’t know what and soon it would be too late.

‘I’ve got your email address, haven’t I?’ he asked for the tenth time.

‘Yes, and I’ve got yours.’

‘Stay in touch. Like we said-best friends.’

‘You stay in touch. Let me know you arrived safely.’

‘Will passengers for flight-?’

They got to their feet and walked the short distance. At the barrier they faced each other, smiling.

‘Well, this is it. Goodbye-’ he added provocatively, ‘Elena.’

She made a fist and aimed it gently at his nose. He laughed and took hold of her hand, straightening out the fingers and dropping a light kiss onto them. Then his laughter faded and something seemed to have taken him by surprise.

She struggled to speak but nothing would come. She could see only Lorenzo’s face and feel the warm pressure of his hand enfolding hers. Her throat felt tight.

‘Goodbye, Helen. I’m going to miss you.’

‘Goodbye,’ she whispered.

Then there was his hand on her shoulder, his lips briefly brushing her cheek. As he walked away she could see the back of his head, easily visible above the rest of the crowd before a turning took him from her sight.

She stood amidst the teeming airport and felt more desolate and alone than ever before in her life.

She had said she would leave at once, but she needed a strong coffee, and she sat over it for half an hour before realising it was cold and ordering another. When she’d drunk that she told herself again that she should be leaving. But instead her feet carried her to the window from which she could see the 747 just starting to pull away. She stood rooted to the spot while it glided out onto the runway in the dusk, then gathered speed until it rose into the air and headed for the clouds.

Helen stared at the disappearing lights until she could see them no more. Suddenly everything was blurred and she wondered if there was rain on the window panes, until she realised that it was her eyes that were blurred.

It was a long flight to Rome and when he landed Lorenzo had a head like cotton wool. But he got straight onto the connecting flight to Palermo, and was home by the evening of the next day.

Renato and Heather were waiting for him, hugging him with delight and carrying him off home in triumph. There his mother opened her arms to her youngest son, her eyes shining with joy. Fede, the lover of her youth, now her constant companion, shook his hand. Heather hugged him again, although it was less easy now that her pregnancy was becoming obvious. Renato paid one of his rare compliments.

‘You did a fine job over there,’ he growled. ‘The order books are overflowing.’

‘And you’ve got something to tell, yes?’ his mother asked eagerly. ‘About Elena?’

‘Mamma, it’s nothing, I swear it. There’s nothing to tell. We’re just good friends.’

Baptista gave a little scream of outrage. ‘You were kissing the first evening. You’ve spent the last week living in each other’s pockets and you’re just good friends? This is your Mamma you’re talking to. Who do you think you are? A film star giving a press conference?’

‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ he said hastily. ‘We’re just friendly, that’s all. We had to work together a lot, and we had fun too. It didn’t mean anything.’

‘That’s not what Signora Angolini says when we have talked on the telephone.’

Lorenzo tore his hair. ‘Maria vergine! Helen was right! Today Manhattan, tomorrow the world!’

‘And just who is Helen?’ Baptista asked.

‘She prefers Helen to Elena. Mamma, can we talk about this later? I’m just glad to be back with my family. Where’s Bernardo? Where’s Angie?’

His mother allowed him to escape, but with a look that said she would talk to him later.

Neither Bernardo nor Angie was present. As Lorenzo had told Helen, his half brother lived a lonely life in Montedoro, the mountain village where he had been born. Bitter pride had made him reject the woman he loved because of her wealth. But great-hearted Angie had followed him, working as the local doctor in that comfortless place. Gradually he was learning to respect her, perhaps even letting himself love her again. But there was no sign of them at this gathering.

‘Bernardo’s vanished,’ Renato explained. ‘You know the way he’s always doing that without warning. He’ll be back in his own good time.’

‘I thought he and Angie were sorting things out,’ Lorenzo protested. ‘Mamma, you remember your birthday party just before I left, when Angie wouldn’t come in case the snow stopped her getting back up the mountain to her patients, and Bernardo left early? I thought it was because he wanted to be with her.’

‘I’m sure he did,’ Baptista said. ‘When I called Angie that night, he was there in her home.’

‘But it seems he left the next day,’ Heather said, ‘and he’s still away.’

Before Lorenzo went to bed he emailed Helen about his arrival. It was meant to be a short note but he got carried away and found himself talking about Bernardo and Angie. Even at this distance she was easy to talk to and the words poured out.

He paused, wondering if he’d said too much. Would she really be interested in all this family stuff? But she’d said she liked the sound of Angie. He hit the Send button quickly, before he could change his mind, and tottered into bed, jet-lagged out of his mind.

Her reply was waiting for him next morning.

If you’re fond of your brother, I won’t tell you what I think of him for walking out on her-

‘Thanks,’ Lorenzo murmured with feeling.

– but if she’s up there in the mountains trying to cope alone I think someone should check if she’s all right. You say she’s practically family. Isn’t that what families do?

‘I was going anyway,’ he told the screen, with perfect truth.

His first day had to be spent closeted with Renato, talking business. But as soon as he could get away he drove up to Montedoro, arriving just as Dr Angie Wendham was finishing her evening surgery. She was beautiful in a blonde, almost fairy-like way, but he thought she looked tired and sad. She hailed him with pleasure and invited him to supper.

‘I want to hear all about America,’ she said.

He’d meant to speak about his travels, his triumphs, but all he could think of was Helen, and for the life of him he couldn’t stop an enormous grin taking over his face.

‘What’s her name?’ Angie demanded at once.

‘I don’t know why you women always jump to one conclusion. I spent some time with the daughter of family friends in New York. Her name’s Helen and, before you hear wedding bells, I’m the last man in the world she’d dream of marrying. She told me that in the first ten minutes.’

Angie’s eyes widened. ‘You proposed to her in ten minutes?’

‘She didn’t wait for a proposal. She just rushed to tell me not to bother.’

‘You don’t mean you’ve met a woman who’s immune to your charm?’

‘If you like to put it that way,’ he said, slightly piqued.

Angie chuckled. ‘I like the sound of her,’ she said, echoing Helen’s own words in a way that gave Lorenzo an eerie feeling.

‘Well, don’t keep me in suspense,’ Angie went on. ‘Tell me-ouch!’

A fork had fallen to the floor and jabbed her foot. Lorenzo watched her bend down for it, then clutch the table. Alarmed, he made a dash and just caught her before she slid to the floor.

‘I’m fine,’ she said hastily.

‘You look a bit peaky.’

‘It’s been a long, hard day. I didn’t have time for lunch.’

He made her sit down while he prepared the supper. ‘How are you managing?’ he asked kindly.

She told him some of the story, but she still kept many secrets. Lorenzo could only guess what had happened the night of Baptista’s birthday, when Bernardo had followed her up here, and why he had fled the woman he loved so soon after. But remembering how Angie had nearly fainted, he was beginning to think it was time he took a hand.

The next day he went looking for Bernardo in a deserted farmhouse where he had often hidden away before. He found him there again, and brushed aside Bernardo’s protests. He had come to talk about Angie.

‘I’m still your brother and I’m not going to let you screw up the best thing that ever happened to you,’ he said, adding significantly, ‘Things have changed. If you’re going to add to the family, it’s about time you started being a member of it.’

He left without receiving any promises from Bernardo, but as he jolted over the rough track, wincing at what this was doing to the suspension of his new car, he felt that he’d done a good day’s work.

Suddenly he braked sharply, astounded by what he had seen under the trees. The next moment he was out of the car, staring across the track in a state of shock. For a searing moment he’d been certain he’d seen Helen.

There! Beneath the apple trees, standing in the orange dress she’d worn on the last day, laughing as she’d done then. He walked across and looked all around him.

There was nobody there.

He looked up and down the road, but he was quite alone.

Alone.

Suddenly he didn’t like the sound of the word.

He wondered what she was doing now. New York was six hours behind Sicily, so she would just have reached work. She would be sitting at her desk, probably talking to Erik. Perhaps they would be leaning over some paperwork together, his fair head close to her dark one.

It was the blossoms that had done it of course. They had brought back the memory of how they’d walked, hand in hand, under the blossoms in Central Park. He’d tried to describe the beauty of his homeland in spring, and the memory had made him almost hallucinate her presence now. Yes, that must be it.

But he wished she might really be here with him, so that they could walk together, as they had done in the last hours before they said goodbye.

That night he emailed her, talking about Bernardo and Angie, but he left out his suspicions of a pregnancy in case it made her even more critical of Bernardo.

In her reply she said, An odd thing happened yesterday. I went through Central Park on my way to work, and I could have sworn I saw you there. It wasn’t you, of course, just a trick of the light.

Lorenzo felt the hairs begin to stand up on the back of his neck, and tried to stay cool. Of course they were remembering each other. Nothing in that. And if, by sheer coincidence, her ‘trick of the light’ had come at about the same time as his own, that was no reason to start getting fanciful. He would tell her how he’d seen her under the blossoms, and they would share the joke.

But he didn’t. Somehow he couldn’t find the right words.

A week went by with no news from her. He felt aggrieved. They’d agreed to stay friends, after all. Besides, Elroys had made him her responsibility. It wouldn’t hurt to call and remind her that it was her duty to keep in touch. Having decided on the right jocular note, he dialled her apartment, only to be met by an answering machine. Of course, the time difference.

He could email, but he had a strange desire to hear her voice, so he continued to call and to be met with the answering machine, for the next few hours. In the end he had to sit up until five in the morning. And then the phone was answered by a voice that made him drop the receiver as though it was red-hot, without saying a word.

Erik!

Erik was in her apartment at nearly midnight.

She’d done it, then. She’d used their friendship as a springboard to her own independence. By now she and Erik were probably engaged.

Great! Wonderful! He couldn’t be happier!

Hell!

But the next day there was an email from her. It was a light-hearted account of going to the movies with Erik and taking him home for a meal afterwards.

The phone rang while I was busy in the kitchen, and as Dilys was out I asked him to answer it. The caller hung up right away, but I know who it was.

Lorenzo groaned.

It was Momma. I’m sure of that because she called again later and Erik answered again. Of course I got lectured next day because he was with me so late. Why do people have such suspicious minds?

‘Can’t think,’ he murmured.

He replied in similar light-hearted vein and for a few days they chatted about nothing in particular. If Erik’s name cropped up more than he thought strictly necessary, at least she never again mentioned taking him home.

They exchanged family news. Giorgio had been cross when Lorenzo went away without proposing, and growled at her until Mamma told him sharply to shut his face. Criticising her daughter was a privilege she reserved exclusively for herself.

I know our mothers have been thick as thieves about this, she wrote. I hope she isn’t giving you a hard time.

‘Just now I’m having a rest from being told I’m a disgrace to the family,’ he wrote back. ‘Bernardo has returned and he wants to marry Angie, but she’s saying no. She’s pregnant but she won’t have him. Says he asked her for the wrong reasons.’

Helen’s response was so like her that he could almost hear her indignant voice.

Good for her! If he only proposed because of the baby he ought to be boiled in oil!

He was incautious enough to respond, ‘Helen, this is Sicily!’

Her reply was a sulphurous, Exactly!

After that she was busy taking her exams. Lorenzo called TransGift, an organisation that would arrange for flowers to be sent from a New York florist. He dictated the card, ‘With love and best wishes, Lorenzo,’ and ordered it to be sent with a huge bouquet of red roses.

But as soon as he hung up he though, Hell, no!

He called TransGift back and changed the roses to pink. ‘And the card should read “With best wishes, Lorenzo.”’

‘Not “love”?’ the receptionist asked.

‘Not love.’

He replaced the receiver and sat brooding. Perhaps pink was still going too far.

He called back. ‘Yellow,’ he said. ‘And the card should read, “Best of luck with your exams”.’

‘I’ll do that for you, sir.’

But ten minutes later the doubts struck again. Yellow was a dangerous colour. He grabbed the phone.

‘Yes, I’ve sent it through,’ said the exasperated receptionist. ‘But I’m in time to cancel it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘TransGift is a very efficient organisation, sir. If you’re having trouble with flowers, can I interest you in a teddy bear instead?’

‘You do teddy bears? Great!’

‘What expression would you like on his face? Romantic, macho, silly grin?’

‘Silly grin. And a sash saying “Good luck”. No card.’

When he put the phone down he felt as exhausted as if he’d put in a full day’s work.

Helen telephoned him that evening. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘He arrived then?’

‘Yes, he arrived, and so did-’

‘I thought of sending flowers,’ he hurried on, interrupting her in his urgency to make matters clear. ‘But flowers die. You’ll be able to keep him, and every time you see him looking daft you’ll think of me.’

‘Well, that’s true,’ she said amused.

‘Did you get flowers from-anyone else?’

‘Erik sent me red roses, but like you say, they’ll die.’

‘I’m sure they’re superb red roses,’ he said, trying not to sound as nettled as he felt.

‘The very best,’ she assured him, ‘bought from the hotel shop which will give him an enormous discount. I prefer Gigi.’

‘Gigi?’ he echoed, pleased.

‘Well, you can’t call a bear Lorenzo, can you?’

‘It’s not a bear’s name at all,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘Anyway, the best of luck with your exams. Let me know how you do.’

When she’d hung up Helen sat looking thoughtfully at Gigi, who grinned foolishly back at her. He was five inches tall, covered in soft golden fur, and beautiful. She pressed her lips against him, then set him down beside the yellow roses that had preceded him by ten minutes.

Next to them were pink roses, and behind them a bouquet of red roses that cast Erik’s into the shade. Laid out on Helen’s desk were the three cards that had come with them.

TransGift weren’t quite as efficient as they claimed.

The exams lasted three days and were gruelling. Helen was well grounded in all aspects of hotel management, both theoretical and practical, and she approached the first test with confidence. But it was much tougher than she’d expected and at home, that evening, she let out a long breath of dismay. From his new home on her dressing table Gigi regarded her with sympathy.

‘You’re coming with me tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘I need you.’

Strangely, the next day, she felt full of renewed confidence. Of course it was superstition to imagine that Gigi’s presence in her bag was making any difference, but she sailed through the most difficult questions, and knew she was doing well.

When it was all over Erik said mysteriously, ‘I’d like to take you to dinner next Monday evening. The Jacaranda, all the trimmings.’

‘Have you come into a fortune?’ she asked, astonished. ‘The Jacaranda costs the earth just to go in the door. I’m honoured, but why not eat here at a discount?’

‘Because a discount meal isn’t good enough for what I have in mind,’ he said firmly. ‘There’s something I particularly want us to talk about.’

This was worrying. Obviously Erik wanted to move their relationship onto a more intense plane, but she wasn’t ready for that, and she couldn’t think why. He was exactly the kind of man she’d always planned to marry, solid, reliable, not Italian.

At the other end of the scale was Lorenzo, light-hearted, probably unreliable, disgracefully Sicilian, but with a wicked ability to chime in with her mood, and a pair of merry blue eyes that seemed to get between her and Erik.

Which was nonsense, because they were just buddies. To prove it she told him about the planned evening in her next email. He responded at once.

‘He’s taking you to the Jacaranda? Boy, this must be some occasion!’

Yes, he says he wants to talk.

‘So you’ll be engaged to Erik in a few days?’

To which she replied with a frosty, Nonsense!

On the night she dressed up and he kissed her hand, smiling his approval. There were flowers on the table, and Erik’s first action was to bring out a black box, with Cartier’s on the lid.

‘Open it,’ he said, pushing it across the table to her.

The box contained a gold chain and locket. Helen regarded it with awe and dismay.

‘Erik, I can’t-’

‘Wait, let me say my piece. I want you to have this for two reasons. The first is congratulations. You’ve done brilliantly in the exams. You’ll hear officially in a couple of days, and I’ve put in a bid to have you assigned to me. The second is-well, it’s rather difficult but there’s been something I’ve been meaning to say to you-I’ve even thought maybe you guessed-well, anyway-’ he took her hand between his ‘-here goes-’

She let him keep hold of her hand and heard him out in silence. With every incredible word her happiness grew. They spent a wonderful evening together, and by the time they left she was wearing the gold chain around her neck and a smile on her lips.

When she checked her computer that night Lorenzo was there, ready and waiting.

‘So are you going to marry him?’

To which she replied simply, Nope!

Lorenzo considered that word for a long time. It told him nothing beyond the simple fact, and whatever had happened at the Jacaranda must have been more than the simple fact.

Friends told each other things, didn’t they? She would tell him everything, if he just waited. Showing curiosity would be fatal.

So he carefully didn’t ask. And she didn’t tell. And after a week he realised, with deep frustration, that she wasn’t going to.