“Son, I’ve seen her picture.” His father winked behind his glasses. “She’s a real beauty.”
Sandro realized that his parents were playing matchmaker. He hated to disappoint them, but he couldn’t go along. “Mamma, Papa, I don’t want to meet a girl.”
“Don’t be shy,” his mother said, with an encouraging smile. “You’re old enough and very eligible, with a brilliant future ahead of you.”
His father nodded. “She’s right, Sandro. We never wanted your abilities, as prodigious as they are, to prevent you from having a normal life. You work hard, but it’s time to socialize with the opposite sex. You’re entitled to have a family, someday.”
Sandro hesitated. “But I’m already seeing someone. Elisabetta.”
His father frowned. “D’Orfeo?”
His mother blinked. “But she’s an old friend. We mean a girl you could be interested in romantically.”
His father nodded. “Rachele’s father has a ceramic factory that’s doing quite well. They live in the suburbs and they’re a lovely family.”
Sandro felt his chest tighten. He wanted to please his parents, but this time he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in anyone except Elisabetta.”
His mother’s smile began to fade. “When did this come to pass?”
“Sandro, we had no idea,” his father added, disconcerted. “I always thought you and Elisabetta were just friends.”
“We’ve grown into more. My feelings for her—”
“But she’s not Jewish,” his father interrupted, matter-of-factly.
“Right.” His mother nodded, her pearl earrings swinging. “Sandro, you can’t become serious with a Gentile girl.”
“Why can’t I?” Sandro asked, causing an immediate reaction. His father recoiled, and his mother pursed her lips. Rosa remained silent, and David looked down. The holiday mood vanished, and Cornelia fled to the kitchen. Vivaldi’s violins continued to play, soothing no one.
“Sandro, this can’t be.” His father’s eyebrows sloped unhappily downward. “Judaism is important to us. You were properly raised in our faith. You feel the same way, don’t you?”
Sandro hadn’t given Elisabetta’s religion much thought until this moment. He had been focused on trying to win her heart. “Well, of course, my Jewishness is important to me.”
“Then why weren’t you looking for a Jewish girl?” his mother interjected, frowning.
“I wasn’t looking for any girl at all. What happened was that one day, actually, it happened on the day that I got the internship with Levi-Civita, I was with Elisabetta at the river and it dawned on me that I had feelings for her. I knew because when I got the good news about the professor, she was the one I wanted to tell, after I told you, Mamma.”
His mother’s frown remained in place. “But can’t you have feelings for a Jewish girl?”
“I suppose so, but that’s not what happened. It doesn’t matter to me whether Elisabetta is Gentile or Jewish. She’s Elisabetta, and that’s all that matters. The rest will sort itself.”
“When?” his father shot back.
“How?” his mother added.
“I don’t know,” Sandro answered, pained. “All I know is that I’ve fallen in love with her.”
“You what?” His father’s eyes flared.
“You do?” His mother gasped. “You love her? You can’t!”
Rosa intervened, touching their father’s arm. “Papa, there’s no reason to make an issue of this now. It’s not as if Sandro’s going to marry the first girl he’s serious about.”
“I disagree,” his father snapped. “You know Sandro. He’s a serious young man. How many girls do you think he’ll court before he settles down?”
His mother lifted an eyebrow. “Rosa, did you not hear what your brother just said? What if he marries Elisabetta?”
Sandro was grateful for Rosa’s attempt to help, but it only worsened matters. The talk of marriage was getting ahead of him, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t want to marry Elisabetta.
His father faced him. “Son, if you marry Elisabetta, your children won’t be Jewish unless she converts. Is she willing to convert?”
Sandro’s mouth went dry. “I don’t know, we haven’t discussed it yet and—”