Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal. Catherine Spencer
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remain so in the future.”
Stopping dead in his tracks, Paolo struggled to contain the surge of anger scalding his throat. When he at last trusted himself to speak, he did so with feral intent. “Listen well to what I’m about to say, Father, and take it to heart,” he snarled, turning slowly to face him. “First, you will do no such thing. And second, you will never again refer to my future wife with such contempt. I will not tolerate a repeat of it, for any reason.”
“Bravely spoken, Paolo,” his father returned, “but I’m afraid you can’t control my feelings anymore, it would seem, than you can control your own.”
“But you can control your tongue. You can and will treat Caroline cordially and with civility. And if you defy me on this, then prepare to be deprived of the pleasure of my family’s company.”
His father sank back in his chair, his color hectic, his breathing labored. “You would not dare deny me access to my own grandchildren!”
“Try me,” Paolo said, refusing to show his alarm at the symptoms his father presented.
“Let me remind you that I am the head of this household, Paolo,” he blustered, fumbling beneath the lapel of his dinner jacket.
“As I will be head of mine. You’d do well to remember that.”
His father’s color receded, leaving his skin an unhealthy gray. “You accuse me of not showing proper esteem for your fiancée, yet dare to address me with such disrespect?”
“I honor you as my father, but I would be less than you expected of a son if I were to let you ride roughshod over my wife. What, after all, has Caroline done to offend you? Is it the fact that it took a tragedy of monumental proportions for her to make the effort to come to Italy? The belief that, if it weren’t for her connection to our family by marriage, she wouldn’t register on your social scale? Your perceived notion that she poses a threat to your grandchildren? Or is it that she has carved out a successful life for herself, without once having to appeal to you for help, and refuses to be cowed by your attempts to put her in her place?”
“She shows no regard for our family’s rich ancestry,” Salvatore sputtered. “No understanding of my grandchildren’s fine heritage. She is too American in her outlook and demeanor.”
Frustrated, for this was an old and tired argument brought out and dusted off whenever someone veered too far from revered tradition, Paolo tried one last line of reasoning. “You once said the same about Vanessa, Father, and later admitted you’d misjudged her.”
“She was different. She showed regard for our way of doing things. She embraced our values and our customs.”
“And Caroline will do the same. Why else would she have so readily agreed to live here? Please, Father, put your doubts aside. Our family has been sadly depleted in recent weeks, and there are precious few of us left to carry on the name. We need to stand together now, not engage in pointless disputes that can do nothing but tear us apart.”
For a moment, his father glowered at the suggestion, clearly ready to stand toe to toe with him on the idea. Then, abruptly, he leaned his head against the high back of his chair and closed his eyes. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said grudgingly. “Perhaps we need to make the best of what we have left. For that reason, and for the sake of my grandchildren, I will try to overcome my misgivings and welcome Caroline, as I welcomed her sister before her.”
“You’re very good with the children, Caroline,” Lidia remarked, as they made their way downstairs after tucking Clemente and Gina into their beds. “I hope they come to realize how fortunate they are that you’re willing and able to step into Vanessa’s shoes.”
“I don’t suppose I’ll ever really fill them, Lidia, but I promise I’ll do my very best.”
“I know you will. But you’re giving up so much—your home in America, your profession, your friends. It’s a lot to ask, especially when you’ve worked so hard to build a successful career.”
But architecture had never been more than a substitute for what she really wanted. She’d have given it up in a flash, if she’d been able to keep her babies.
“For the next few years, being a mother and a wife will be my career, and I have no regrets about that,” she said. “Architecture will still be there, when I’m not needed on the homefront.”
“Oh, you’ll always be needed, my dear,” Lidia said with a laugh. “Just because children grow up doesn’t mean they don’t still need their mothers.” Pausing at the foot of the stairs, she rested her hand on the newel post and shot a tentative glance Callie’s way. “Forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but have you and Paolo talked about having more children?”
“Not really. Why do you ask?”
“Because having another baby might help close old wounds.”
What an odd thing to say, Callie thought. Yet Lidia was regarding her with such compassion that she couldn’t take offense. But the remark was enough to bring to the forefront the burden of guilt forever lurking in the back of her mind, and it left her stomach tied in knots.
Everything she’d ever longed for, and thought she could never have—her children, Paolo, true peace of mind, real happiness—lay within her grasp. But losing her sister and brother-in-law was a terrible price to pay for such a gift, and she had all she could do right now to cope with that. Confession, she had decided, would have to wait.
Suddenly, though, she wanted to tell this kind and gentle grandmother the truth. Wanted to ask her advice on how best to break the news to Paolo. And desperately wanted to know that whenever she did confide in him, at least one other person would be there to lend support, if she needed it.
From the outset, she’d felt a universal connection with Lidia, the kind that existed only between women. Lidia was not one to judge another person harshly or unfairly. Also, she was a mother; she’d understand that nothing was straightforward or simple when it came to protecting one’s children.
“Lidia,” she began hesitantly, “is there some place we can talk without being disturbed?”
“My sitting room. We’ll be quite alone there. The men are enjoying their brandy in the library and won’t mind if we take a few minutes for ourselves, I’m sure.”
She led the way toward the back of the villa, to a little room with a glassed-in solarium at one end. Furnished with white wicker and pastel prints, it was as pretty and welcoming as Lidia herself.
“Have a seat, dear,” she said, closing the door and indicating a love seat upholstered with plump cushions, “and tell me what’s on your mind. Is it to do with the wedding?”
Callie had often wondered how she’d ever broach the subject. Had been sure she’d never find the words. But in the end, there were few from which to choose. “No, it’s about the twins…about when they were born, and why I’ve stayed away from them all these years. The thing is, Lidia, the day Vanessa and Ermanno got married—”
Astonishingly Lidia leaned forward and pressed a finger to Callie’s lips. “Hush, Caroline! There’s no need to explain, and no need at all to feel ashamed or guilty for something that happened so long ago. You were very young at the time, very inexperienced and, I daresay, very frightened.”
Callie’s jaw sagged in shock. “You know?”
“Yes, my dear. I saw you stumbling back here, the next morning, with your pretty dress in disarray, and guessed Paolo had kept you out all night. I was very disappointed in him, at the time. Very angry. But that’s all in the past, cara—a longforgotten mistake that doesn’t matter at all, now that you and he have found each other again.”
“I don’t think you quite understand what I’m trying to tell you,” Callie mumbled. “The fact is, Lidia—”
But even as she gathered her courage to finish what she’d started,