“Sì, sì. No more than one centimeter over the rice at any time. Now the saffron.” He sprinkled the vibrant strands into the mixture and stirred. “While I add the broth, you can grate the cheese.”
Ruby picked up the wedge of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and began to grate it over a bowl. She was enjoying herself. Cooking with Niccolò made her a little homesick for her family. But she was so happy to be here with him. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she thought, What if I’d never come here? So much I would have missed. Right then, she resolved that she would never pass up an opportunity. Already she was wondering how they might stay together.
Niccolò continued to monitor the rice and absorption like a scientist conducting a delicate experiment. Finally, after the rice reached a glossy, lightly thickened consistency, he scooped a little into a spoon and tasted it. He smacked his fingers against his lips in approval and held a spoonful to her lips. “Tell me what you think.”
“Oh, that’s delicious,” Ruby said, turning the taste over in her mouth.
“Almost ready.” He worked quickly now, removing the softened Parmigiano-Reggiano rinds and stirring in the cheese she had grated, along with a lump of butter.
His mother looked into the kitchen. “How is your risotto?”
“Perfetto,” he exclaimed. He lifted another spoonful of risotto. After blowing on it, he slid it into Ruby’s mouth. “This is perfect, the best I’ve ever made.”
Signora Mancini laughed. “He makes it better than anyone else in the family because he is patient. Some woman will be lucky to have him.”
After Niccolò scooped the risotto into a serving bowl, Ruby removed her apron. They all pitched in to carry food upstairs onto the terrace where his parents had set the long table.
His mother poured a small splash of wine into Ruby’s glass, although Ruby felt she couldn’t risk another drop. Most of the Italian kids her age, including Niccolò and his older siblings, sipped wine with their parents.
But then, back in Texas, her father sometimes gave her a cold longneck beer after a day of hard labor in the unrelenting summer sun. You’ve earned it, he’d say with a wink. Just don’t tell your mother.
The sky turned a dusty shade of pink before flinging ribbons of brilliant orange and gold into the twilight sky. Niccolò’s brothers and sisters joined them at the table, and soon laughter and good-natured arguments and a mixture of Italian and English rang out in the balmy night air. As the night sky encroached, the lights of Rome twinkled before her. Ruby couldn’t recall when she’d had such a good time.
When Niccolò’s father tasted the risotto, he held up his glass to his son. “To our chef,” Dante said. “Delizioso!”
Niccolò beamed with pride. He leaned toward Ruby. “Now you admit I’m hot stuff, yes?”
“Okay, you win,” Ruby said, laughing. “You’re definitely hot stuff. This is delicious. I can’t believe you can really cook.” Everything on the table was new to her, and she loved each dish she tasted. The Caprese salad was fresh, the risotto moist, and the osso buco rich and flavorful.
Ruby felt like most of Niccolò’s family accepted her, except for one sister, Valeria, who stared at her and hardly said a word. Ruby guessed that Valeria was a year or two older and tried to engage her, even trying a few words in Italian, but Valeria would only blink and shrug. Ruby felt like a bumbling American.
Niccolò noticed his sister’s actions and took Ruby’s hand under the table. “Don’t worry about her,” he said softly.
“Did I say something wrong?” Ruby worried about making a poor impression. “Did I accidentally insult her in my terrible Italian?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“What is it then?”
Niccolò started to reply, but he stopped and shook his head. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
Ruby fought to return a brave smile as if Valeria didn’t bother her. While Niccolò kissed her fingertips, she thought about how demonstrative he was—his entire family, in fact. If her father saw Niccolò kissing her hand at their supper table, he would tell the young man to rein in his behavior in no uncertain terms.
And that would be the end of Niccolò.
Sadly, she couldn’t imagine bringing Niccolò home to Texas. Live for the moment, she reprimanded herself, determined to enjoy a spectacular evening. She pressed her glass of red wine to her lips. Nevertheless, feelings of doubt gnawed at her.
After filming finished in Rome, the cast, which had grown so close, would disperse. This summer had changed Ruby. How could she return to the girl she was before?
As she gazed into Niccolò’s eyes, she realized it was impossible. She would never be that naïve girl again. She’d fallen in love, and her life would be forever changed. From now on, Niccolò would be beside her, and all would be right with the world.
If only she could figure out how to make that happen.
Chapter 8
Lago di Como, 2010
* * *
“While you rest, I’m going to speak to the concierge,” Ruby said to Ariana after they left the villa and returned to the hotel. Ariana was nodding off due to jet lag, but Ruby’s mind was whirring with ideas. And with the right help, it wouldn’t take long. Ruby made her way downstairs.
“You’ve been such a love,” Ruby said to Vera, the concierge who’d been instrumental in helping her acquire Villa Fiori. As much as Ruby loved the luxurious hotel, she was excited over moving into the villa. She slid a cream-colored envelope containing an engraved thank-you note and crisp euros across the antique desk.
“I’m so happy Villa Fiori found a new owner,” Vera said. “It was once a lovely home, but the heirs couldn’t be bothered about upkeep until the community forced them. After that, a manager oversaw it, but that’s not the same as having an owner in residence.” She smiled. “Welcome to Bellagio. We’re so glad to have you.”
Ruby told her about the condition of the house. “I’d like the house cleaned and furnished as quickly as possible. Bedding, linens, sofas, and lamps. Who can you recommend for that?”
Vera brightened. “My sister is an interior designer. She can provide whatever you need. Even the silverware.”
“Fortunately, the kitchen is fairly well equipped,” Ruby said. “How about a housekeeper? We have plenty of room for someone, or a couple, to live in.”
Vera tapped her chin. “I’ll make a few calls. Will you be here today?”
“I have an appointment at the hair salon and spa. I’m available after that.”
Ruby checked in at the spa for a massage treatment, which was a key part of her method to overcome jet lag and time zone changes. Later, she emerged from her massage feeling refreshed. After relaxing by the pool and having a swim, she visited the salon for hairstyling.
Before she left, she made a spa and hair appointment for Ariana, whose strawberry blond locks could use a fresh cut. Although she’d had a lovely hairstyle style for the wedding, Ruby knew Ariana had been too busy before the wedding to get a haircut. She wanted Ariana to feel pampered.