Everything had been broken down by eight o’clock Sunday morning, including the fancy crystal tents and the chandeliers that were removed and crated. There was a long line of trucks heading out of Sandy Melling’s driveway with the undoing of the party while she slept. It took as big a crew to dismantle it all as to set it up.
“We did an amazing job,” Eileen said, sitting on a big crate with the chandelier in it from the dinner tent. She looked at Max as men in white overalls took away the Chivari ballroom chairs with silver backs and pale pink cushions that had been used in all the tents. There had been about eight hundred chairs in all with custom-made cushions. Every detail had been thought of and addressed. Max returned the smile as the early morning sun shone down on them. Neither of them had been to bed that night, and they were energized by their success.
“You are an amazing woman,” he said. “You’re brilliant. Your business is going to be a bigger success than you can dream of.” He was thrilled that he had come to work for her. He hadn’t imagined that she was so capable and efficient. She was relentless until every detail was addressed and problem solved, and always pleasant to work with. She never lost her temper, although he did, frequently. He said he was “just Italian.”
He walked over to her and sat down next to her on the crate. Whatever their roles of employee and boss, they had been partners for the event, and had worked equally hard and tirelessly to ensure perfection in everything, no matter how many hours it took them.
“Your pink wedding cake was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she complimented him. They had saved the top of it at the bride’s request, to freeze for her so the couple could have it on their first anniversary, for good luck.
“Your sugar designs made the cake,” he said to her. “I’m really proud of both of us. We did a good job.”
“Better than that,” she said, leaning against him. Now that they’d stopped moving and running, she realized how tired she was, and knew he must be too. He put an arm around her, leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. She thought he was just being exuberant and Italian at first, and then the kiss went on and deepened and she was swept into it and kissed him back. She looked startled when he stopped. “What was that?”
“Un bacio,” he said in Italian. “A kiss.” He acted as though it was perfectly normal to kiss her like that.
“Did you mean to do it?” She looked shocked, not sure whether to be angry or pleased, but before she could decide, he kissed her again, harder this time to show her he meant it. “Max, what are you doing?” she asked breathlessly when he stopped.
“I’m kissing you, because you’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. You’re strong and brave like a man, gentle like a woman, you’re a creative genius, and a fantastic chef. I want to be with you as a man and a woman, always.” He made it perfectly clear as he looked at her with love in his eyes. She didn’t know what to say for a minute. She hadn’t expected it, and didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m forty years old. You’re thirty-three.”
“Yes? So? Are you trying to frighten me or impress me?”
“Both.” She laughed. He didn’t seem to care about their ages.
“We are a man and a woman, we work brilliantly together. And I’m willing to work till I fall over to make your business a success. You deserve that, Eileen, and some happiness. Who takes care of you? Who watches over you while you take care of everyone else? I see what you do. Everything for others, nothing for you. I want to take care of you.” She loved being with him and working with him, they were a fantastic team, they laughed a lot and he made everything possible. He never accepted defeat, and neither did she. He was smiling as he looked at her. “Stop looking so surprised. When was the last time a man told you he loved you?”
“I can’t remember,” she said softly. Everything about him was unexpected, his age, his nationality, his talent, and now he was telling her he loved her.
The men came to take away the chandelier crate they were sitting on, and he swept her into his arms and carried her to his Fiat. She didn’t protest or attempt to get out of his arms. Her bag was already in the car. He set her gently down on the front seat and smiled at her.
“Dove andiamo, Principessa?” he asked her when he got in and turned the key in the ignition. “Where are we going, Princess?” They had been working together for three months, and he thought he had waited long enough. He had wanted to kiss her for the past two months.
She thought about his question for a minute. Knowing that she’d be working around the clock all weekend, she had sent the children to Paul at his new house. They loved it, and spent all the time they could in the pool now that school was out.
“Home, I guess,” she answered, and grinned at Max. This was not how she had expected the wedding to end. It was an interesting twist to a perfect weekend so far, and it was getting better by the minute, with his kisses and surprise announcement.
He drove to her house, parked his Fiat in the garage, and closed the doors so no one would see it there in the early morning. He didn’t want to ruin her reputation or shock her children if they drove by with their father.
“Thank you,” she said, appreciating the thoughtful gesture. She was so tired she could hardly get out of the car, but they were both smiling as he followed her into the house and locked the door behind them.
* * *
—
Olivia spent most of June in New York, running the New York branch of her business, while Jean-Pierre ran the Paris office. At the end of the month, she left to spend July and August in France with him. They were planning to go to Saint-Tropez, Corsica, and Sardinia to see friends of his for long weekends, and then she was going to come back to New York at the end of August to spend September there. She could see a lot of commuting in her future, but it was good for the business, and good for them. They were looking forward to the summer together. She wasn’t staying at the Ritz this time. She was going to stay with Jean-Pierre.
* * *
—
With Olivia gone over the Fourth of July weekend, and no plans to go away herself, Gwen decided to finish the last painting she’d been working on. She had work to do over the summer, studying the script, doing research, and preparing for her role in the movie she would start filming in September. It was a period role, and Gwen liked to steep herself in historical research about the character before she began a role like that. She wanted everything about it to be authentic, and her mother had been right, it was likely to be one of the most demanding and important parts she had ever played. She wanted to give it her full attention, so it was time to finish the painting, before her mind was engaged with something other than an Italian landscape. They were her favorite subjects to paint and she did them well. She was planning to give it to her mother for her ninety-third birthday, which was approaching. Gwen liked spending holidays in the city when everyone else was away.