“Maybe you should. No one should have a family of their own until they know their history.”
“Sensible girl,” Olimpio complimented Anina.
“Sensible is not a word I would choose to describe Anina.”
“Mama.” Nicolina put down her fork.
“Anina, forgive me. You’re a clever girl. You’re a beauty. Sensible? Well, work on it,” Matelda said.
“I don’t care about being sensible. Sensible is the cardigan sweater of character.”
“Thank you.” Matelda straightened the cardigan sweater she was wearing, sat back in her chair, and buried her hands in the pockets.
“You know what I mean!” Anina said impatiently. “Sensible is frumpy. I’m too young for frumpy.”
“And I’m too old for frumpy,” Olimpio joked.
“You will never be old, Nonno. Neither will you, Nonna. I can’t see you wearing a black wool dress and knee socks in the summer like the widows in the village.”
“We’ll have to see. I’m not a widow. Yet.”
“I won’t let you die first, Matelda. I’m going first. So pick out your black woolens now.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I couldn’t live without you. There. I said it.” Olimpio joined his hands in prayer. “Are you listening, God?”
Matelda laughed. Olimpio couldn’t live without her, and she couldn’t imagine living without him. He took care of the family business as if he were born a Cabrelli. He understood her pain despite her best efforts to hide it. When she was unsure where her impatience or anger came from, he gently guided her to the source. Matelda refused to believe the father she never met was the cause of her anxiety. She did not want to blame the dead—neither her father, nor her mother, nor her stepfather—for her problems at the age of eighty-one, but her problems were also Olimpio’s. He had spent their marriage attempting to convince her that the loss of her Scottish father was something she needed to face in order to heal her heart. Finally, Matelda was getting around to the task.
CHAPTER 10
Lucca, Italy
NOW
Anina stood in the kitchenette in the small apartment she shared with Paolo as he lay on the couch in the living room. The television volume was on full blast as he texted on his phone, oblivious to the football game on the screen. Anina arranged the leftovers from Nonna’s birthday dinner on the plate. Even though she was annoyed with him, whenever she was near her fiancé, she forgot why she was irritated with him. She knew what she had. Paolo was a catch, and there were plenty of girls in Lucca who pursued him, but he chose Anina. Anina grabbed a napkin and utensils and joined Paolo in the living room.
Paolo had taken off his shirt and shoes. His black curls were in need of a cut, and his beard was coming in, even though he had shaved that morning. There was a glass of wine on the coffee table.
“Nonna made your favorite pasta.” She placed the leftovers on the table.
“I’m starving. Thanks, babe.”
“I knew you wouldn’t eat at the café. I wish you would’ve come to celebrate Nonna’s birthday.”
“I couldn’t get out of the meeting.”
“I know. They like to see you once in a while, that’s all.”
“I’ll drop by and say hello when I’m in the village.”
“That would be nice.” Anina doubted Paolo would make a special trip to see her grandmother. Viareggio was out of the way. Anina turned to go.
“Where are you going?” Paolo took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. “Is there something wrong?”
“You’re watching a game.”
Paolo turned off the television set. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know.” Anina rested her head on his shoulder.
“Are we okay?”
“Yes.”
“So why the weird mood?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your mother?” Paolo made a face.
Anina laughed. “We’re getting along great.”
“That’s because we’re getting married. Your mother doesn’t like that we live together.”
“I don’t think that’s it.”
“It’s me then. They’re worried. Once I get a job, they’ll all be happy.”
“You might be right. How’s it going?”
“Getting close.” Paolo grinned. “We might have to move to Roma. What do you think?”
“Wherever you get a job, we will live,” she assured him. “Papa said you can always put in your application for civil service. Giacomo is happy working for the carabinieri.”