Regardless, I’m excited for the new distractions. Things got kind of weird at the pool, so the more people in the house, the better.
Especially people who know Claudio well. I want to learn everything there is about him, what he was like growing up, if there is indeed something that magic man can’t do. I want the dirt. I want to know it all.
I get off my bed where I was working through some plot holes in my notebook, and get dressed. I pick—surprise—another dress, this one white with short sleeves, buttons down the middle, and oranges printed on it. I pull my hair back into a low ponytail, then slide on an orange headband. I’ve got this 60’s Italian chic thing going on, so I play that up with my makeup, a wee bit of winged liner and mascara, a touch of blush. I look half-decent, even with my lemon face.
Of course, there’s no point in denying that I’m not only looking good for Claudio, but for his sisters. I want them to say “who is that girl?” although that might be pointless considering the women that Claudio dates. I know he said he doesn’t have time to date anymore, but that woman, the ex of his, Marika, was stunning. Perhaps he’s known for dating tall, tanned and leggy blondes, basically everything I’m not.
Well you’re not dating him, so why does it even matter? I tell myself.
The thing is, I can tell myself things, but it doesn’t mean I’ll believe it.
Even if Claudio tells me things.
Even if he says that I’m beautiful.
The thought makes something flicker deep inside me.
Hope, maybe.
I head out of the room and down the stairs, the yelling getting louder and louder.
“Grace! Ciao, ciao!” Vanni yells at me as he turns the corner on the second floor, racing past me on the stairs with his backpack. He’s followed by a blonde girl in a pink romper, who gives me a shy look while running up the stairs after him. I’m assuming that’s his cousin.
They disappear up the steps and I steel myself for the rest of my journey. As much as I want to meet his sisters, I do tend to get all awkward when I meet new people, and the yelling is throwing me off. I can’t tell if they’re actually angry or that’s just how they talk.
When I get to the bottom floor, the bar looks like it’s been ransacked and raucous laughter is coming from the patio. Okay, laughter. That’s a good sign.
I take in a deep breath and turn the corner.
Three female versions of Claudio are sitting at the table, all three of their heads swiveling to look at me. I don’t see Claudio anywhere.
Gulp.
“Chi è questa?” one of them exclaims. She’s wearing cat-eye sunglasses.
“Ooooh,” another one says, this one wearing a stunning shade of red lipstick. “L’autrice!”
Another one, the shortest, the most petite, also wearing red lipstick, gives them both a dirty look. “Inglese!” she scolds them.
Then she eyes me, a brow raised. Wow. Perfectly shaped eyebrows that move independently from each other must run in the family. “I apologize for my sisters being so rude. You must be Grace.”
I raise my hand slightly. “That’s me.”
She points to herself with a red fingernail, the polish chipped. “I am Maria. This is Giada.” She flicks her nails toward the one in sunglasses, who looks to be the oldest out of all of them. Then she points at the other sister. “That is Veronica. We are Claudio’s sisters.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell them, feeling awkward on my feet. Do I do the whole kiss them on each cheek thing? Would that be too informal? I’ll just stay here.
“Oh, come now,” Maria says, getting to her feet. In seconds she’s grabbed me by the shoulders, engulfed me in a cloud of lemony perfume, leaving lipstick marks on my cheeks. She pulls back and inspects me closely. “You are a beautiful woman.”
Wow. Do all the Romanos throw compliments around like confetti?
Of course, I blush at that.
“Thank you. Grazie.”
“Ah yes, Vanni told me he was teaching you Italian.”
“He’s trying. I’m not the best student at the moment.”
“Of course not. You are writing, yes?”
She takes me by the hand and leads me to the table, sitting me down beside her.
“Ciao,” Giada and Veronica say in unison.
“You must forgive,” Giada continues. “My English is not so good.”
“It’s better than my Italian,” I tell her, giving her an encouraging smile. It’s then I notice they all have mineral waters, as well as espresso. “Where is Claudio?”
“Ah,” Maria says. “We sent him off for some lemons.”
Veronica frowns and mutters something under her breath, gesturing to her coffee.
“She is saying his espresso machine is not good enough,” Maria translates. “And that normally he has the lemons all cut up for us.”
“Is good for our blood,” Giada explains, splaying her palms.
I can see why Claudio said they all picked on him. They just got here and already they’re bossing him around. I have a feeling they were doing most of the yelling.
“Ah, you found her,” Claudio’s melodic voice booms. I look up to see him walking across the lawn, yellow lemons cradled in his hands. He pauses behind Giada, his eyes brightening as he looks at me. “I hope they’ve been kind.”
“They’re lovely,” I tell Claudio, giving his sisters each a warm smile.
“I see,” he says. “You’ve already joined their side.”
I laugh at the mock hurt expression on his face. The man can be completely adorable sometimes.
Maria clears her throat, and I look at her. She’s watching both me and Claudio with interest, a touch of suspicion in her eyes. I immediately press my lips together, willing my face to go blank. I know my facial expressions give everything away, and the last thing I need is for his sisters to think I have some crush on their brother.
I mean, that’s the only way I can describe it. A crush. There’s something so juvenile about the term, but it is what it is. An infatuation. I never even crushed on anyone growing up (what was the point? I could barely talk to anyone, let alone look them in the eye), so this feeling is new to me, but it’s there all the same.
But crushes go away, right? It’s just based on attraction. Eventually it will fizzle out.
I’ve decided that’s what I’ll tell myself.
“What would you like to drink?” Claudio asks me, his voice warm, his eyes still fixed on my face, ignoring whatever look Maria is giving us. “Aperol Spritz?”
I nod. “Please.”
It’s become one of my favorite drinks to have in the sun, just before dinner. Claudio says it’s an aperitivo, which is meant to open up the appetite for dinner, but I’m just in it for the bittersweet buzz. One thing about being at Villa Rosa is that I’m always ready for whatever Claudio is cooking.
Claudio heads inside to the bar with his lemons, and I still feel Maria’s eyes on me. I glance across the table at Giada and Veronica, and they are in the midst of communicating something to each other with their eyes. Then they look at me.
Uh oh. Why do I feel like they’re thinking the same thing Maria is (whatever that is)?
They never come out and say it though and soon Claudio joins us with Aperol Spritzes for both of us, plus the slices of lemons for their waters (and it turns out Veronica’s water contains vodka). We all toast to the summer and then the sisters get talking. Most of it is in Italian, with Maria translating when she can. A lot of it is just them picking on Claudio. They like to call him the “Golden Child” since he’s the only one of them that followed in his father’s footsteps and became a successful artist. There’s a lot of love there, but I can tell they don’t really take the arts that seriously.