“No,” Tessa said. “I’m sorry. My harsh words.”
Grammy M straightened and looked at her friend. “’Tis no matter. I’ll be moving back in. Gabriel’s packin’ my things. It’ll be like it was before.”
Tessa stared at her. “What did you say?”
“I’m movin’ back in. Oh, Tessa, you need me now. I feel so horrible about what I did. You made me mad with your talk of the good Lord punishin’ me, so I vowed not to come back until you apologized. Now I see I was an old fool. We’re not gettin’ any younger. We need to take advantage of the time we have left.”
“Do you love him?” Tessa asked fiercely.
“Gabriel? Of course I love him.”
Tessa marched to the phone and picked it up. “Then you call him right now and tell him to stop packing. You’re staying there. If you love him, Mary, then hold on to him for as long as you have together. I don’t care if you’re married or not. I was mad because you seemed to leave so easily. As if I didn’t matter.”
“You matter,” Grammy M said, throwing herself at her friend. “You matter more than anyone.”
Brenna was already weeping. The Grands cried, Katie cried, Francesca had put aside the flour she was measuring and searched for tissues. Darcy felt her own emotions give way.
Brenna pushed herself to her feet and waddled over to the Grands. “Group girl hug,” she said, motioning Darcy in. Katie and Francesca joined them.
For Darcy, the pain of loss combined with the sweetness of feeling as if she belonged. In this time of family tragedy, the Marcellis reached out to include her.
Later, when the groceries had arrived and the tasks were assigned, she went with Grandma Tessa to collect the family silver from a pantry under the main staircase.
“We’ll need all the serving pieces,” Grandma Tessa said. “Bowls, chafing dishes.”
She stepped aside so Darcy could duck into the small room. Shelves filled the space, and each shelf was crowded with beautiful pieces in silver, silver and glass, and crystal.
“This is all so incredible,” Darcy breathed. “I’ve been to the White House, and I have to tell you, this is just as lovely.”
Tessa smiled. “You’re kind to say so. Bring everything to the dining room table. Don’t worry, I won’t put you to work washing it all. You’re helpful in the kitchen. Francesca will be in charge of washing and polishing. She never was very handy with a knife.”
Darcy nodded. She would have to put the leaves in the table first, or there wouldn’t be room. But then five hundred was a lot of people to feed, especially on three days’ notice.
Tessa turned to leave. Darcy hesitated, then stopped her. “I know I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I…” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t come get you or anyone. I wanted to, but then he said he didn’t want to be alone. I screamed for help, but no one heard me. I just…” She had to swallow against the tightness and the tears. “I’m sorry he wasn’t with family. At the end, I mean.”
Tessa looked at her for a long time, then patted her arm. “Lorenzo died with someone he cared about very much, Darcy. That makes you family. I’m glad you were with him. So very glad.”
Darcy nodded, but she couldn’t see or speak. There were too many tears and no way to stop them.
Paige was prepared to go to the mat on this one. “Darcy’s request isn’t unreasonable,” she said, striving for patience, when she really wanted to hit Alex over the head and tie him up in the closet for a couple of days.
“No one is supposed to know the president’s daughter is here. You don’t think one of the five hundred people at the funeral will notice?” Alex demanded in a tone that told her he thought she was an idiot.
“She’s hardly going to be parading herself around. She’ll be in a hat with a heavy veil. We’ll walk her in at the end and she’ll duck out a side door right before the services end. She’s not asking to go to the graveside and she’s going to stay in her room with the door locked until the wake is over. That’s more than reasonable.”
“What’s reasonable is not going out at all. We’re talking five hundred people, Paige. Do you know what kind of security nightmare this is? We should move her to a secure location until all this mess is over. Typical Darcy, she’s refusing to leave.”
Paige took a step toward him and raised her chin. “Typical Darcy? What does that mean? How has she even once been difficult? How has she made your job harder? The only goddamn time she was left on her own was because of a shift change and the fact that you forgot to schedule overlap. Which happened to be the exact moment Lorenzo Marcelli died.” She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “Darcy was on her own with a dying man and no one around her. Did she come to you and point out the screwup? Did she threaten you? Not even close. So don’t you dare tell me that she’s been difficult.”
Temper flared in his dark blue eyes. He carefully pushed her finger away. “Why is this so important?”
“Because she cares about these people. Because they mean something to her. An emotion you’ve probably never experienced, but it’s there for the rest of the world.”
Alex glared at her. “We do things by the book on my watch.”
“Right. And sometimes mistakes get made.”
He didn’t respond. Paige knew it had to be killing him that he’d messed up. Such a minor thing, not assigning any overlap. It could have happened to anyone. But it had happened to Alex, and she was more than willing to press that point home.
“She will be completely covered and unrecognizable,” Paige said more calmly. “I will be with her every second. You can have agents in the church. But she’s going to that funeral.”
“Fine,” he said curtly. “Straight to the church and straight back. Nothing graveside, and I’ll post agents on the stairs so no one gets up to her floor during the wake.”
The victory surprised Paige. What had caused Alex to give in? She’d thought they’d have to fight a lot longer and she would have to threaten him with Darcy calling her father.
As it was, she was all charged up for a fight that had ended too soon. Lucky for her-there was still one more thing.
She moved in close again and glared at him. “Just so we’re all clear on this-don’t start something with me unless you intend to finish it. I’m not a toy, and this is not a game.”
Under other circumstances his bewilderment would have been amusing. Right now it just pissed her off.
“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked.
“Figure it out,” she told him, then stalked away.
The Catholic church closest to the Marcelli vineyards usually held three hundred. On a foggy, cool, Friday morning, nearly twice that many squeezed inside. Colleen had given Joe an idea of whom to expect. Even so, he was surprised to see so many unfamiliar faces.
Some were old-contemporaries of Lorenzo’s. Others were much younger. Distant relatives, employees, fellow vintners. A half a dozen politicians sat in the pews.
There had been over two hundred requests to speak at the funeral. Last night Colleen and her daughters had gone through them and picked thirty. Twenty would speak in the church, the other ten by the graveside.
Joe listened to the religious service, then to the first few mourners. He heard stories about a Lorenzo he had never known. In some ways the tales made the old man seem alive again.
Tessa sat next to him, with Marco beside her. She cried through the service, seeming to shrink with every minute that passed. Unable to stand her quiet tears, he put an arm around her and pulled her close.
She looked up at him. “Your grandfather was so proud of you,” she whispered from beneath her veil. “So proud.”
His grandfather. He’d never claimed that relationship with Lorenzo. Joe had been careful to avoid calling him by name, much as he did with Marco and Colleen and Tessa. Grammy M had escaped the name stigma because her title didn’t seem to be about any familial relationship.
There were too many people, Joe thought, wanting to bolt. He forced himself to stay in place, trying to think about other things. He felt Darcy’s presence in the church. She sat in the back, on the side, where she would be whisked away before the service ended. She’d insisted on coming, saying she wanted to be there for the family and for herself.
He knew in his head funerals were supposed to help. That the ceremony clarified the moment of death and allowed those still living to move on. It had never worked that way for Joe. He’d been to funerals of guys he’d worked with, and the pomp and circumstance had only pissed him off, as it did now.
Nic stood and walked to the front of the church. He nodded at Tessa and Marco, then introduced himself.
