The Chocolatier, page 21
Nino had left before sunrise that day, neglecting the funeral mass and burial. For all Lauro cared, his brother could leave and never return. If not for him, he and Isabella would be engaged and planning their wedding.
After a restless night filled with despair, Lauro rose and dressed hastily. What he had to do today was crucial—if Nino was still here. Filled with rage over Nino’s carelessness, he grabbed a pair of leather boots from beside the armoire.
Lauro gazed from the window across the jagged point where Isabella had died, vowing to pray for her soul to pay the penance for his brother’s misdeed. He clutched his chest, feeling as if his heart had cracked. After stomping his heels into his boots, Lauro crumpled under a wave of grief. Never would he forget Isabella.
Never would he love another. He crossed himself, ending with a solemn kiss.
How long would it be until he could think of her without feeling such intense longing?
Lauro pushed from the chair, knocking it against the wall. He staggered into the bathroom where he splashed cold water onto his face. Isabella chose to plunge to her death because of Nino, and he would never forgive him for that. His brother would pay for what he’d done to her.
Hastening from his room, he called out for his parents, but there was no answer. He expelled a sigh of relief. During the holidays, a family breakfast and horse ride was a tradition in their extended family, but he’d ignored the early knocks on the door.
Had Nino done so, too?
Making his way through the villa, he spied Nino on the terrace, leaning against the stone wall that enclosed the patio area. His eyes were trained on the cliff beneath them.
Where Isabella fell. Clenching his jaw, Lauro stormed outside. At his footsteps, a seagull startled and lifted off, flapping its great white wings until it was soaring against the brilliant blue sky toward the sea.
Nino turned. His eyes were bloodshot. Had he been crying over her? Isabella was the love of his life, not his brother’s.
“Thought you had gone riding with the rest of them,” Nino said.
“As if nothing had happened?” Lauro gritted his teeth. “You should’ve paid your respects to her family.”
“No one wanted to see me there. But I did send a condolence telegram.” Nino spread his hands in apology. “I’m truly sorry. I know how much Isabella meant to you. I grieve for her, too.”
Hearing his beloved’s name on Nino’s lips sent a flash of fury through him, and he advanced toward his brother. “Bastante! Don’t ever say her name. You don’t deserve to even speak of her. Never, you hear me?”
Nino bowed his head against the vitriolic gush.
His brother’s passivity was infuriating, and Lauro sliced the air with his hand and cursed. “I thought you’d gone yesterday.”
“You mean you’d hoped.” Nino brushed sand from the rock wall. “Papa wants me to stay.”
“I don’t.” A surge of anger shot through Lauro, and he could no longer contain himself. “All my life, I’ve lived in your shadow.”
“I can’t help it that I’m the older one, but you’re closer than a brother, Lauro. You’re my best friend. Surely we can get through this.” Nino offered an open hand to him.
Lauro ignored his gesture. Nothing would ever be the same between them again. “You said you’re leaving.”
“A few months ago, I applied for medical school. In Rome, of course, but also to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, and Harvard in Boston. This is what I really want to do.”
“And leave your family? The business that will belong to you?” He let out a coarse laugh. “You’ll be rich one day.” His words came out more bitter than he’d intended. It wasn’t about the money.
As the elder son, Nino had all the advantages. It didn’t matter that Nino had little interest in the family business. Someday Nino would lead Cioccolata Savoia, and the family estate would pass to him. Every girl from every good family knew it; every mother had calculated the two brother’s disparate worth. The truth? Even Signore Guardino would have preferred Nino to him for his darling Isabella.
Nino let out a sigh. “I wish you’d been born first. You have no idea what a burden it is to try to live up to so many expectations. You’re the lucky one.” His voice changed and became impassioned with possibility. “You can do anything you want with your life. Travel anywhere; marry anyone you want.” He paused and shook his head. “Not me. Papa’s counting on me to take his place someday. To step into his life. Maybe I should stay, but…” His voice trailed off.
“Now you develop a conscience. But you’re right about one thing. I should be the one running the company.” Lauro jerked his thumb toward his chest. “I’ve always loved it more than you did.” Just like Isabella.
“You’re right. Maybe I’m a self-centered bastard.” Nino shifted his remorseful gaze toward the ocean. “I don’t belong here. I want to live my own life and make a difference in others’ lives.”
“Just not your own family’s life.” Lauro closed the space between them. “Then go. If you stay, I promise I’ll make your life hell. Not a day will go by that I won’t remind you of what you did to Isabella.”
“And I deserve that,” Nino said quietly. “I don’t know how I can ever repay her death to you, or to her family.”
How could Nino be so calm? Fury swelled within Lauro. On impulse, he shoved Nino against the stone wall, clenching the lapels of his brother’s jacket in his fists. “I could send you over this cliff right now. But I won’t. You’re already dead to me. Instead, you’re going to leave before our parents come back. And don’t bother sending letters or telegrams. I’ll see to it that none of them reach our parents. You’ve hurt them enough already.”
Nino gaped at him, speechless, but Lauro wasn’t finished.
“Go, live your selfish life. And don’t ever return.” Lauro released him. “That’s how you pay for Isabella’s death.”
Chapter 22
Amalfi, 1953
“Mommy, here’s a good one.” Standing on his tiptoes, Marco stretched toward a ripe grapefruit.
“I’ll help you,” Celina said, strolling toward him in the slanting afternoon sun. They were collecting grapefruit for breakfast and juice.
Many shops in Amalfi closed in the afternoon for a long lunch, so she did the same. She loved having time to meet Marco at school and walk home with him, which she couldn’t have done at her old job in San Francisco.
In the weeks since the grand opening of Stella di Cioccolato, the sharp words exchanged between her, Adele, and Sara continued to worry her. One evening after supper, Celina had helped Sara clear the table and followed her into the kitchen to discuss this with her. When she broached the subject, Sara looked appalled.
“We will never talk of this,” Sara said with a swift, adamant slice of her hand.
Celina swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I went to see Adele at her boutique.”
Concern clouded Sara’s face. “Did she say anything?”
“Only that she can’t talk about it, and to leave her alone.” As angry as Adele had been the day of the grand opening, she had turned equally cool toward her. Celina had been looking forward to working in the shop next to her good friend, but now that was over.
“That’s best,” Sara said with an implacable expression.
Celina couldn’t understand what she had done. “Do you want Marco and me to leave?”
“Not at all, my dear. Carmine would be devastated. Let’s carry on, happy as we are. Adele will get over it.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Or not. It’s her problem, not yours.” Sara turned back to her task, ending the conversation.
Mystified, Celina wondered what it all meant. She missed her close relationships with Sara and Adele.
Yet as strange as that shift was, her relationship with Lauro had also changed.
Now, as Celina reached for the grapefruit for Marco, a flurry of leaves rustled behind her, and she whirled around.
Lauro raced to grab Marco around the waist, lifting the boy so he could pick the high fruit. “There you go, my little man.”
Marco squealed with delight at the sight of Lauro.
As if trying to make up for his past actions toward her, Lauro had been lavishing attention on Marco, who was thrilled to spend time with his uncle.
“You nearly scared the life out of me,” Celina said, scolding Lauro, but she was pleased to see him again. She’d caught herself wondering all day if she might see him again this evening.
Today, he looked exceptionally handsome. He was dressed casually in trousers and a cream sweater that set off his dark hair and olive green eyes.
“Just having fun,” Lauro said, giving her a double kiss on the cheeks. This time, however, he lingered, adding a third cheek kiss and pressing his face against hers. “I’ve missed you, you know. And you smell like chocolate.”
“I’ve been working in the kitchen.” Warmth gathered in her chest beneath the lightweight sweater she wore. “And it’s only been a day.” Yet she’d missed his laughter and company.
While Marco scrambled up a tree, Lauro brushed his hand playfully along her arm. “A day without you is a day that the sun doesn’t shine in my life.” He grazed her bare neck with his lips.
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a laugh. “The sun shines almost every day here.”
“See? Your magic is working.”
Since Lauro worked in Naples at the factory, in the past she’d seldom seen him during the week. Now she noticed that he was joining his parents—and her and Marco—for dinner during the week and staying overnight.
Surely his mother had noticed, too. But Sara had kept up a wall of cordiality that was driving Celina crazy. As warm as Sara had once been to her, she was now a core of ice with a veneer of forced friendliness.
If Carmine was aware of the shift in their relationship, he gave no indication of it, treating her and Marco with the same affection as he always had.
She still had no idea what had brought on the chilly behavior toward her.
Lauro stood with her watching Marco. “I think you need to open a cioccolateria in Naples soon. Marco would have a lot more friends.”
“Does the competition want to keep an eye on me, maybe steal my recipes?” She loved teasing him. “Besides, Marco likes his school in Amalfi.”
“He’s a smart boy. How is business at your shop?”
“Actually, better than I thought.” She shook her head. “I’ll never live down my opening day mistake. A lot of people make a point of asking for chocolates con zucchero.”
He laughed. “With sugar. The fact that they’re joking with you means they’ve accepted you. Actually, I’ve heard good reports about the American rock ‘n roll chocolatière. The teenagers come in to hear Doris Day and Frank Sinatra.”
“Not for the chocolates?”
He winked at her. “Better keep that record player spinning with the latest hits.”
Marco abandoned the fruit and ran ahead, careening through the orchards, swinging from branches, turning cartwheels, and tossing fallen fruit like a juggler.
“Look at his energy,” Lauro said, laughing at Marco’s freewheeling antics. “It’s good to see him happy.”
“He is.” Celina was so grateful for her son’s new lightness of spirit. Over the last few weeks, he’d shed much of his sadness. “He likes school, and he’s made many new friends. Math and art are his best subjects, but his Italian is shockingly good now.” She laughed. “Better than mine.”
“Children learn languages much easier. And math and art are universal subjects.” Lauro nodded thoughtfully. “Italy agrees with him.”
“It seems to.”
Lauro took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “How about you?”
“Italy agrees with me very much.” His gentle movement stirred her emotions.
Over the past couple of months, they had practiced restraint and had come to know each other more. Lauro was so different from Tony that she could hardly compare them. Yet she couldn’t ignore her growing feelings for him.
She didn’t mention Sara or Adele to him. Surely whatever imagined slight that was bothering Sara and Adele would soon blow ever. However, once she earned enough money from the shop, she planned to move into a cozy flat. She already had one in mind that had a fantastic view and was in walking distance both to Marco’s school and the shop. It was time they had a home again.
“I’m glad you decided to stay.” He held her hand as they strolled through the orchard after Marco. “Have I ever apologized for being such a jerk when I first heard about your shop?”
Celina laughed. “Come to think of it, you haven’t. You’re awfully slow at apologizing.”
“Ah, right through the heart that time.” Lauro clutched his chest and staggered back. Grasping her hand, he dropped to one knee. “I hereby apologize for hoping you’d leave, and I apologize for any and every jerky thing I might do in the future.”
“So eloquent,” Celina said, smothering her laughter. “You know that jerky is dried meat, right?”
“If we can get past this language barrier we have, we might have a chance.”
He’d been dancing around the subject of the future for a few days. Celina pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around him. “What do you mean by that, Lauro Savoia?”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “Just what it sounded like.”
Taking a step back, she held his hands at arm’s length. “I don’t want to hear that unless you’re serious this time.” Although if she were truthful with herself, that was what she longed to hear. Tony had been gone ten months now—a minute and an eternity.
Love didn’t come around that often. Celina couldn’t risk such heartache again.
But then, she feared she already had. She waited for his reply.
Losing two men in one year would be almost more than she could bear. She raised her chin to the chill ocean breeze, welcoming the sting on her forehead and cheeks.
Lauro chose his words with care. “You do have a right to know.”
What he didn’t say sliced through her heart. Foolishly, she had let herself care more for him than she’d realized.
They walked on, with only their footsteps and the distant roar of the ocean to alleviate the heavy silence between them.
Celina shaded her eyes, watching Marco dart after a rabbit.
At last, Lauro spoke. “Some time ago I had dinner with Adele and Werner.”
She didn’t ask how they were, nor did she mention that she and Adele hadn’t spoken since her grand opening party. Adele was assiduously avoiding her. If they arrived at the same time to open their shops, Adele hurried in without even a glance in her direction. Her snub hurt a lot. Adele had always been on her side, and Celina had grown to admire and love her like family. But maybe there was another side to her, too, like so many of the Savoias.
Lauro squeezed her hand. “Adele said something that made me think. She said that Isabella would have wanted me to live a full life. At first, I thought those words were just empty reassurances. I grieved for Isabella, but now I know that grief should not be a way of life. Her memory is with me, as your husband’s will always be with you. To honor them is to embrace life as they did.”
Celina listened, appreciating that he was sharing his innermost thoughts.
He drew a hand across the panorama before them. “Isabella was like the brightest fireworks in the sky. She exploded onto the scene, scoffing at duty and responsibility. In many ways, I was too staid, too responsible for her. She was a free spirit who abhorred anything that tied her down. She and Nino were alike in that way.”
He fell silent again.
Ahead of them, Celina saw Carmine step into the clearing beyond the orchard, and Marco raced to him. Hoisting Marco onto his hip, Carmine stared in their direction, as if noting their intimate posture.
Still clasping her hand, Lauro tucked their hands behind his back.
Carmine waved and ambled toward the villa with Marco.
“Marco loves his nonno.” Eager to continue their conversation about Isabella, Celina tried to speak as gently as she could. “It was Tony she truly loved, wasn’t it?”
“It takes a strong woman to ask that question.”
“That was long before we met. It won’t change my love for him.”
Lauro gazed into the distance. “You can’t imagine how devastated she was that night when she saw Nino at the party. She told me she couldn’t marry me because of Nino. That’s not easy for me to admit, because I thought I was in love with her. But also because I’m the one who usually bears the responsibility for making things right.”
“You say that because he left.”
Lauro nodded.
“But Tony was responsible,” she said. “Have you ever thought that he left so that you could fulfill your dreams? That would have been the action of the man I knew.” Although it pained her a little to say this, it was the truth.
Lauro took in her words. “In retrospect, I’m not sure if Isabella would have ever agreed to marry me. Her mother might have pressured her, but Isabella did what she wanted. And what she wanted was to burn as bright as she could, as quickly as she could. And she did that.”
They came to a rock wall at the edge of the terraced cliff that overlooked the ocean. A wooden bench flanked by raised flower beds rested just inside of the low wall. Lauro guided her to it, and they sat down, watching as the sun slipped toward the horizon.
Lauro trailed his fingers along her arm. “Like Isabella, I’ve decided I want to live now—brightly, brilliantly—with the woman I love by my side. We have no guarantee of days—we both know that, don’t we?”
Leaning into him, Celina nodded and gripped his hand. She could feel the intensity of his heart beating against hers.
“In life, the opportunity not chosen fuels regret—it takes bravery to change the status quo and follow a dream.” She understood what it took to make a life-changing decision—she’d done that when she decided to stay here.
He circled his arms around her and kissed her forehead.
