Bride By Choice

wits-that you would never marry a Sicilian. So any day now you were going to reject him and walk out of his life.

But not yet-not quite yet-

The morning after Baptista’s return she asked Heather to join her over coffee. Apart from her own approaching nuptials her chief interest was the birth of her first grandchild.

‘How are you?’ she asked Heather as they sat together on the wide terrace overlooking the sea. ‘I remember the last few weeks are very tiring. And you’ve had to take on the running of this house while I was away.’

‘Mamma,’ Heather protested, ‘the house runs itself. But I’m afraid I’ve had to dismiss Sara for stealing.’

‘Has she started that again?’ Baptista said with a sigh. ‘I caught her once and allowed her to stay because she promised it wouldn’t happen again. But I suppose she broke her word.’

‘I know she took things of mine, only trinkets, but she had her eyes on Helen’s jewellery.’

‘You were right to send her away. Now let us think of more pleasant matters. Elena has agreed to be my attendant at the wedding and so-’ her face brightened ‘-Elena, cara, we were just talking about you. And Angie. Let us all have lunch together.’

The next couple of hours were very pleasant as the four women relaxed on the terrace in the sun, and chatted dreamily about the immediate future. After lunch Baptista retired for her afternoon nap, while Heather and Angie also voted to put their feet up for a while.

Heather courteously apologised for leaving her guest alone, and Helen assured her that she was perfectly happy. But the truth was that this sleepy way of living was irksome to someone of her energetic nature. She was saved from an afternoon’s boredom by a phone call. It was Erik.

He came straight to the point. ‘You can be very useful to the company. Do you know the Castella di Farini?’

‘The great palace in Palermo? Yes.’

‘Elroys is buying it to convert into an hotel. The deal is almost complete but at the last minute the owner is being tiresome about a detail. Our American lawyers out there don’t understand Sicily. Our Sicilian lawyers don’t understand Elroys. You’ve got a foot in both camps, and you might be able to sort it. Here’s what you do…’

Helen made notes eagerly as she realised that this was a problem she could deal with.

‘Leave it to me,’ she said at last.

She almost skipped out of the house and headed for the garage just as Lorenzo’s car appeared. ‘What’s the rush?’ he called cheerfully. She hurriedly explained. ‘Get in. I’ll drive you there.’

‘Erik says I’ve got a foot in each camp,’ she elaborated as they headed for Palermo. ‘Which means he’s another one who thinks I’m more Sicilian than I am-why are you laughing?’

‘That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit you’re even part Sicilian. We’ll get you yet.’

‘I’d thump you if you weren’t driving,’ she said amiably. ‘It’s just that Erik might expect more from me than I can deliver. Not that I told him that. I let him think I was all confidence.’

‘Good for you. Do you want me to come in too?’

‘No, thank you, caro,’ she said firmly. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want him going soft on me just because I’ve got Martelli backing. I’ll do this on my own.’

Suddenly she was alert, pointing out of the window at a building that stood on a small incline. It seemed to be early nineteenth century, magnificent, and in good condition. ‘Lorenzo, what is that place? Who owns it?’

‘The city. It’s the Palazzo Lombardi. It’s being renovated to be a museum. It’s quite a place. It used to belong to-’

He chatted easily about the building until they reached Palermo and pulled up outside the Castella di Farini.

‘Shall I wait for you?’ he asked, ‘or would that compromise your independence?’

‘I think it might. I’ll get a cab. But thank you anyway.’

The owner was waiting for her, wreathed in smiles. He showed her over the magnificent building, and Helen loved every inch of it. It was far too grandiose for modern living, but it would make a wonderful hotel. Ideas began to dance through her head.

The difficulty he had raised was trivial, little more than a tactic to up the price. Over a glass of wine Helen smiled and indicated that if he’d changed his mine about selling, there was really no problem. The Elroy Company had its eyes on the Palazzo Lombardi, which might suit better.

The owner’s fixed professional smile wavered a fraction. Helen met it with a fixed professional smile that didn’t waver at all. In half an hour she had left the building, heading for the Ufficio Postale where there were telephones.

‘It’s sorted,’ she crowed to Erik. ‘But I took such a risk.’ She told the story and Erik rocked with laughter.

‘Excellent. One up to your local knowledge.’

‘But if it hadn’t worked you’d have fired me.’

‘Probably. But it did work, and I’m admiring your skills. You need to talk to Axel Roderick. He’s going to be the manager.’

She called Roderick’s New York number and they talked for half an hour. He was pleasant and encouraging, asked her to do a few more things to help prepare the ground, and to meet him at the airport when he arrived the following week. She hung up feeling triumphant, and took a cab back to the Residenza, where she found Lorenzo sitting on the steps outside, looking worried. He smiled as soon as he saw her.

‘The others are all having dinner inside,’ he said, kissing her.

‘Lorenzo, I’m sorry-’

‘No problem. I explained.’

Over dinner she described her afternoon, and they all listened with approval, although Renato said, ‘The city council will never part with the Lombardi. Lucky for you he didn’t know that.’

‘He did,’ Helen replied. ‘But I told him not to count on it because it was never wise to mess with Elroys.’

Angie chuckled. ‘You’re a real little Machiavelli.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Helen protested in dismay.

‘It’s a compliment,’ Renato assured her. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. ‘Lorenzo, you’re going to have to mind your manners with this lady.’

There it was again, the assumption that she was here to stay, part of the family. It was kind, yet she couldn’t escape the feeling that a fetter had been laid on her: a silken fetter, hung with flowers and kisses, yet a fetter nonetheless.

But hadn’t she herself taken the first step that very afternoon? The Hotel Elroy of Palermo! Could the Martellis be blamed for seeing where the signposts led?

CHAPTER EIGHT

AXEL Roderick was a plump, easy-going man in his fifties, a hard worker and an able administrator but chiefly a good company man. His aim in life was to impress his employers, and he was happy to rely on the efforts of others. By the time Helen had driven him from the airport and expounded her ideas over dinner he was convinced that this imaginative, energetic young woman was the answer to his prayers. He offered her the job of his personal assistant, and she gladly accepted it. Now she could stay in Sicily ‘long enough to decide about Lorenzo’. That was how she put it to herself.

With the last difficulty out of the way the sale went through quickly, and renovations began. Helen was due to take up her new job the week after the wedding of Fede and Baptista.

It was to take place in Palermo Cathedral, not the vast main body of the church, but a tiny side chapel, private to the Martellis.

Helen arrived first, with Angie and Heather, and while they went ahead she waited for the second car bearing the bride and her three sons. Baptista was magnificent in pale grey silk, adorned only by a pearl necklace, Fede’s wedding gift.

Helen handed Baptista her bouquet, then slipped in behind the bridal party, as they approached the chapel.