However, that didn’t mean that Ruby couldn’t provide the opportunity for Mari to unburden herself.
Ruby lifted the silver key to her lips and kissed it. It was time to send it to Mari. Ruby couldn’t bear the thought of Ariana and Mari becoming estranged, not with a new baby on the way. And given how Patricia had died, Ruby feared a similar diagnosis. If that happened, their history would be lost.
Some might argue it would be better that way.
Ruby wrapped the key in tissue paper and tucked it into an international express envelope. Mari would receive it the next day.
Picking up her pen, Ruby thought about the letter she wanted to enclose. Mari was not one for emotional appeals. That would be counterproductive. She touched the pen to paper and began to write.
* * *
Dear Mari,
Your mother asked that I make sure you received this safety deposit key. The first anniversary of your mother’s death is almost upon us, so this is an appropriate time to complete the details of her final bequest.
The banker’s card is enclosed, and her office is a short distance from yours. Please call her at your earliest convenience.
I also have a business proposition for you. I would like for you to take over the sole management of my charitable foundation and my not inconsequential estate, including stocks and bonds, real estate, and intellectual property. I am not asking this as a favor; you will be very well compensated. As my most direct living heir, you should begin to understand the estate. I am not getting any younger and am concerned about my health.
I am at my villa in Lake Como and am making preparations to finalize my estate. This may be the last time we have to visit, so I ask that you plan to arrive within two weeks. While it is short notice, you will understand the urgency when you arrive. Stefano will contact you with travel options. Upon your arrival, I will review the estate with you and address any questions you might have.
With love,
Your Aunt Ruby
* * *
Ruby folded the note. The tone was too businesslike for Ruby’s taste, but that was the approach most likely to appeal to Mari.
And she needed Mari here in Lake Como. For Mari’s sake, and for Ariana and the next generation. Ruby sealed the envelope and addressed it.
Making her way down the stairs, she called out to Livia. “I’m off to the poste. Is there anything we need from the grocer?”
“No, no, no,” Livia said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “That is my job, Signora.”
“Grazie, Livia.” Ruby smiled to herself. Livia was just as proud as Stefano.
Ruby stepped outside and threaded through the narrow cobblestone streets until she reached the Poste Italiane. She chatted with people in line before posting her express mail. As she watched the envelope change hands, she thought how that letter would change everything. As soon as tomorrow.
She drew a breath, mentally bracing herself.
On her way back to the Villa Fiori, Ruby took a detour, searching for a particular café. On her last trip here, she had looked for it, but she’d been unable to find it. If it’s still here. So much had changed over the years.
Presently, she came to a stop before a café on a corner that was so popular people were waiting for tables. A sign read: Lorenzo’s. She turned around, considering the view from the tables. Her heartbeat quickened.
This is the one. She was sure of it.
Ruby closed her eyes, rewinding the memory reel of her mind. An afternoon of celebration, so many years ago. The music, the food, the faces. And Niccolò. Always Niccolò.
She opened her eyes, glancing at the people seated at tables outside—especially the men of a certain age—as if she might find him among the patrons. But no, that was too painful even to imagine.
Ruby glanced at the line of people waiting for a table. Another day, perhaps. As she turned to leave, she noticed a vacant shop space next to the café. She paused outside to peer through the large windows.
A man wearing a casual sport coat approached her. “Scusi, posso aiutarla con qualcosa?”
“Forse.” Ruby understood enough.
He quickly switched to English. “Ah, American?”
Ruby nodded. “I would like to know if this space is available.”
“I think it is,” he said. “A boutique was here, but it never had the right styles. My landlord also owns this space, so I can take your name and give it to him.”
Ruby pushed her sunglasses over her hair to look in her purse for a card. “Is this your café?”
“For ten years,” the man said with pride, and then he exclaimed. “Signora Raines, what a pleasure. I am Lorenzo Pagani. I heard you bought Villa Fiori. Welcome to Bellagio.”
Only ten years. He’s too young to remember anyway. “It’s a pleasure to be here. And, please, call me Ruby.”
“Signora Ruby.” Lorenzo pressed a hand to his heart and dipped his head. “Will you be my guest for lunch today?”
“What a lovely invitation, but tomorrow would be better. May I bring my niece, too?”
“Yes, of course,” Lorenzo said. “I will reserve my best table for you. And don’t worry, you will have complete privacy. No paparazzi.”
She smiled. The photographers didn’t follow her anymore. They only wanted those who were young and photogenic, and whose photos could command a price worthy of the effort.
Ruby thanked Lorenzo before he hurried back to the café.
Ruby sighed. Oh, Niccolò. If only you were still here. It was silly, but she liked to think of it as their café. She recalled telling Patricia about that day in great detail so many years ago. And that was the last time she’d ever spoken of it.
Gazing at the vacant shop, Ruby pressed a finger to her chin in thought. Perhaps her memories had beckoned her for a reason.
Ruby strolled back to the villa, an idea forming in her mind.
Chapter 15
Lago di Como, 1952
* * *
Under the rose-covered pergola, Ruby leaned against Niccolò and cupped her hands around a mug of cappuccino he’d made for her that morning. She was still a little bleary-eyed from the wine and limoncello they’d had, and her feet ached from hours of dancing, but she was so happy being here with him.
Last night, they had gone out in Varenna for the celebration of Ferragosto. They’d eaten and danced and watched fireworks bursting over the lake. Ruby couldn’t recall when she’d had so much fun. The holiday reminded her of the Fourth of July in America, and when she told Niccolò that he’d laughed, saying that everyone liked an excuse for fireworks and dancing.
“After mass, we can speak to the priest,” Niccolò said. “He’s young, and I think he’ll help us. Varenna is in the Diocese of Milan, and they are not so strict about paperwork. Do you have your passport with you?”
“I do.” Since she was born at home on the ranch, Ruby had never had an official birth certificate. Her aunt Vivienne had told the talent agent, Joseph Applebaum, that Ruby was eighteen. When she was chosen for Roman Holiday, Joseph told her she would need a passport and suggested it would be easier for the studio if she weren’t a minor. Her parents quickly applied for Ruby’s birth certificate and added a year to her birth date. Then, they used the birth certificate to obtain her passport. According to that document, she was eighteen and could legally sign contracts, open bank accounts, rent an apartment—and get married.