“It’s late for us to be a family. You don’t need a father, I don’t ask that. But your mother must have her son. So you and I, we must try to be friends. Will you do that?”
“Of course. I never said-”
“No, but how you feel, that’s something else.”
I looked away. “How does your daughter feel?”
“Well, that’s next. I do the warm-up on you.” He smiled, amused either by the phrase or by the idea that I was the easier of the two. “She will be suspicious. Who is this woman? What does she want? Like you, but the reverse, the other side. You see, nothing is simple when there are two sides.”
“And there are always two.”
“At least. But all of them smiling at the wedding, eh?” He took my hand. “Be easy. Everything will be fine. You have my word.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I said pleasantly, meeting his eyes.
He nodded and turned toward the hospital. I started across the square, relieved to get away, but when I was past the equestrian statue I glanced back over my shoulder and saw that he had stopped to look back too. We stood for a minute like that, turning the space between us into a mirror, watching each other.
As it happened, Mimi had come to lunch at Bertie’s and was still there when I arrived.
“Adam,” Bertie said. “You might have let me know. There’s not a crumb left.”
“No, I’ve eaten.”
“How’s Grace?” Mimi said, kissing my cheek.
“Flourishing.”
“So they say,” she said, her eyes almost twinkling. “Have you met him?”
“Yes.”
“You’re just dropping in, then?” Bertie said, slightly annoyed.
“Darling, don’t be dense,” Mimi said. “Too late for lunch, too early for a drink. He wants to chat. Which means I’ll be in the way, so I’d better be going.” She turned to me. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him. He’s being pigheaded, as usual. Won’t help with the ball. Won’t even come. Pigheaded.”
“And you’re being wicked,” Bertie said, pecking her on the cheek. “A ball, during Lent.”
“Yes, and they’re all dying for a break. Everyone’ll come, you’ll see.”
“Not everyone.”
“Hm. You and the Holy Father, fasting at home. It’s too ridiculous. You know you’re dying to come.”
Bertie smiled. “It’s a close-run thing. Very bad of you to tempt.”
“All right, I’m off.” She gathered up her purse and gloves, looking at me. “So what’s he like? I’m dying to know.”
“Who?”
“Who. Dr. Kildare.”
“Oh, Gianni. He’s too old for you,” I said, kissing her good-bye.
A throaty laugh, flirtatious. “Bertie, I’ve been dismissed. He must have got that from you. That out-the-door charm. What if I got the monsignor to come? Would that make a difference?”
Bertie was walking her out of the room. “Not even the pope. It’s a matter of principle.”
“Darling, aren’t you funny? How would you know?” She turned at the door. “Don’t bother, Elena’s there. Adam, talk to him. He just wants coaxing.”
When she was gone, Bertie came back to the coffee table and lit a cigarette.
“Two hours and I’m exhausted. I don’t know how she does it-she must sleep the rest of the time. Now, what’s on your mind? Barging in like this. Only happy thoughts, I hope.”
“Very happy. They think so, anyway. They’re getting married.”
“Who?”
“My mother and Dr. Kildare.”
“You’re joking,” he said, putting down the cigarette, not just surprised but shaken.
“That’s what I thought when he told me at lunch. But no. Death do us part. Surprised?”
For a minute he said nothing, just stared at the smoke drifting up. “Marriage,” he said, still taking it in. “The Magliones, any of those families-you know they don’t marry out of-”
“Unless they’ve got a helluva repair bill to take care of.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Money. We can whisper if it bothers you.”
He glanced up, annoyed.
“Sit down and behave yourself. What’s gotten into you?”
“You don’t like it either,” I said, sinking onto the couch. “I can tell just by looking at you.”
“I’m surprised, that’s all.” He handed me the cigarette box. “Here. Now let’s take a breath and think a bit. This would come after Mimi-one’s head just keeps buzzing. Why marriage?”
“They’re in love.”
“Adam.”
“And there’s her money.”
“Oh, I don’t think so somehow.”
“But do you know? If he were American, I’d know a hundred things about him. All those clues people carry around. But here-how much does he have?”
“No idea. One doesn’t, in Italy. I’m not sure why. In France you know right away. Of course, there is the palazzo, you know. He’s not on the dole.”
“Which they never sell. Just try to keep up.”
“You’ve been reading things. Of course they sell. How do you think I got mine?” He watched me light my cigarette. “That’s better. Get some color back. You can’t stay shocked, you know.”
“But you were. Why? Don’t you like him?”
“Like him?” he said, uncomfortable. “He’s my doctor. What does like have to do with it?”
“You invite him to your house.”
“He doesn’t pee on the carpet, Adam. He’s a Maglione. Anyway, we were all young together. Your mother, Gianni, his brother-”
“Cozy.”
He looked over his lunettes. “Not like that. Grace adored your father. There was never any question of that.” He paused. “Do you think all the time Gianni-? Hard to imagine him-” He drew on the cigarette, back on the Lido again.
“A long time to carry a torch, don’t you think?”
“All these years,” he said to himself.
“What else?”
“ What what else?”
“I don’t know. Who he is, what he thinks about things.”
“How would I know? He had a wife who died-of natural causes,” he said with exaggeration, raising his eyebrows. “He has a daughter, I think, whom I’ve never seen. An old name. As for what he thinks about things, I haven’t the faintest. Why don’t you ask him yourself? After all, he’s going to be your stepfather, not mine.” He stopped, looking slightly embarrassed, not having meant to become snappish.
“Five minutes ago you were shocked-surprised,” I said quickly, catching his glance. “Now you’re throwing rice.”
“What exactly is it you expect me to do?”
“Talk to her.”
“Talk her out of it, you mean. No. In the first place, people never listen.”
“She’d listen to you.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t even try. She’d never speak to me again. And she’d be right.”
“But it’s possible it’s the money, isn’t it?”
He looked at me, not answering, then lit another cigarette. “Anything’s possible,” he said, then sighed. “You know, it’s possible she’s in love with him.”
