Wedding in Venice

Chapter Five

Count Calvani was a tall, handsome man in his early seventies. Liza, too, was tall, thin and frail-looking, but with an indomitable face. Just now, as Dulcie had warned, both faces were glowering.

They both greeted Justine warmly, and Liza summoned wine and cakes from the kitchen. But she and the count carried on the battle in low voices.

"They're talking Venetian dialect, which I don't understand," Dulcie said. "Guido, whatever's happened?"

He grinned. "Uncle was thinking of having a last-minute party the day after tomorrow, then he changed his mind, thinking it would be too much work for Liza, with the wedding feasts as well. He was being considerate but she's mad at him for 'not having faith in her.'"

"But can't a hotel do the catering?" Justine asked. "What about -" inspiration seemed to strike her from the blue "- what about the Hotel Busoni?"

Guido's eyes lit up and he immediately spoke to his uncle in rapid Venetian. Dulcie smiled and gave her the thumbs-up sign.

"What an inspiration," she told Justine. "The owner is a friend of Guido's. The hotel hasn't been open long, and he needs all the work he can get."

Justine was amused when Guido turned his charm on Liza, putting his hands together imploringly. At last the old woman smiled and gave him a light slap, clearly telling him to stop his nonsense. Guido grinned and leapt for the telephone.

A swift conversation in Venetian ensued, after which Guido said, "He's coming over after dinner, before Liza changes her mind. Hey, Justine, fancy you thinking of the Busoni!"

"It's the only Venice hotel I know," she said quickly.

Over dinner she had the chance to observe the count and Liza when they weren't squabbling and had to admit that they made a charming couple. The handsome man was so dotingly in love with the plain woman that Justine's cynicism took a knock.

But she settled it back into place, reminding herself that she didn't believe in eternal love. She couldn't afford to believe in it.

They had coffee in the garden overlooking the Grand Canal, with a clear view of the floodlit Rialto Bridge. Justine fixed her eyes on it, concentrating on the beauty so that she didn't have to think too closely about what she had just done.

What had possessed her to suggest the Busoni? Who said that Riccardo would be making the hotel's deliveries anyway? And what did she care whether he did or not?

"He's here," Guido said, jumping up and heading toward the building, from which a figure was just emerging.

"Riccardo!" Guido yelled.

"Justine," Dulcie said excitedly, "isn't that the same man who -?"

"Yes," Justine murmured. "It is."

The light and shadow contrasts of the moonlit garden emphasized everything about him that had made an impact on her. He was just as she remembered, but more so.

"Justine," Guido said eagerly, "do you remember this guy from the journey yesterday?"

"Oh, we've met since then," she said, extending her hand to Riccardo. "I fell into his barge this morning, and I can promise you, his cabbages are the best."

"I'm saving money on staff by doing some of the donkey work myself," Riccardo said.

He was talking to Guido but his eyes were on Justine, and his hand held on to hers longer than necessary.

"I would have told you the truth this morning," he said, "but you ran away without giving me the chance."

"Plus you enjoyed having a joke at my expense."

"Well – yes," he admitted.

"To think I was worried about getting you in trouble with your boss!"

"I did tell you that I could handle anything he threw at me," he reminded her.

"Hmm, so you did!"

He grinned.

"You don't trust me?"

"Where would you get an idea like that?" she asked ironically.

"From your voice, your eyes, your face. It's an interesting question for the two of us to explore. Unfortunately, it must wait until my work is finished."

It was reasonable for him to put work first, but his lordly assumption that she would wait like a doll on a shelf riled her.

"That's sounds fascinating," she said, "but it's been a long day. I'm sure everyone will forgive me if I go to bed."

Riccardo's eyes gleamed, acknowledging a round to her.

"You are wrong," he murmured. "I will not forgive you. But I can bide my time."