Wedding in Venice

Chapter Ten

Riccardo was back in a moment, carrying plates. Justine had returned to work at the sink, apparently unconcerned. But she was aware of him now in a new way. A moment had come and gone, and something sweet and indefinable had happened.

She washed, he dried, and in about an hour they had finished.

"Let me show you my home," he said.

He took her hand and they wandered through the quiet building. It was a beautiful place, furnished in the eighteenth-century style and, apart from a man on the night desk, they were alone downstairs.

"But up there, every room is full," Riccardo said, looking up to the ceiling.

"When you said your home, does that mean you live here?"

"Actually, I do, but I meant more. This building used to belong to my family. I was born here, but when I was six my father lost money on bad speculations and had to sell the house. That was when it became a hotel. Ever since, I've dreamed about reclaiming it, and in the end I managed to raise the money. Now I have to keep it."

"Will that be very hard?" she asked.

"Yes, but it's all I want to do."

"So that's why you double as your own dogsbody? I suppose you live in an attic, too?"

His eyes gleamed. "I live under the stars."

It soon became apparent that Riccardo meant exactly what he said. His home was a tiny apartment at the top of the building, but on top of it he had built a square balcony.

Brick pillars went up through the roof, supporting a wooden platform surrounded by a trellis fence on which roses flowered.

"Here we are up among the stars," he said, "and all around us, Venice is sleeping."

Down below she could just make out the sloping roofs, the little streets, called calles, where faint lights still glowed. Straight ahead was the softly lit bell tower of St. Mark's, the only other thing that rose this high. Beyond it, in the far distance, the faint glimpse of water glittering under the moon.

"Wait here," he said, and disappeared back down through the trapdoor that led down to his apartment.

Left alone, Justine looked about her at the dark blue night, with its faint lights winking like jewels against velvet, and marveled at so much beauty. In the distance she could hear the echoing cries of gondoliers going home, calling warnings to each other as they approached corners. It was an unearthly sound, like the music of the spheres. After a moment Riccardo returned with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"I think we've earned this," he said.

She sat down on one of the seats he indicated, and found that it stretched back to become a recliner.

"I often go to sleep out here," he said. "On warm summer nights it's the best place."

"I can imagine," she said, sipping the champagne he offered her. "It's so perfect – almost too perfect."

"Why do you say that?" he asked quickly.

"Well, nothing is ever as perfect as it seems, is it?"

"Perhaps it is, once in a blue moon. But even if not, shouldn't we enjoy the illusion of perfection while we can?"

"I think that's dangerous," she said quickly. "Why store up disillusion for yourself?"

"Why deprive yourself of all faith in beauty?" he countered. "Or don't you believe in beauty, either?"

"Of course I do. How could I do my job without it? I believe in it but…I suppose I don't trust it."

She walked to the railing and stood sipping champagne, looking out into the blue and silver night. Now words felt like an intrusion. She wanted only to let the night, and the beauty, take possession of her.

She sensed him coming to stand behind her. This time, she knew that he would not go away unless she told him to. He laid his lips softly against the back of her neck, and the feeling shivered through her.

He kissed her there for a long moment, while she stood quite still, savoring the sweet sensation, the pleasure and the happiness.

She drew a long breath. The situation was slipping out of her control, and of all feelings that was the one she dreaded most.

Somehow she must be strong enough to leave him now, or it would be too late. Or perhaps it was already too late. She turned to face him.