As beautiful as the wedding was, the dinner afterwards was even better. The tables were outside, and we enjoyed the fading twilight as the gorgeous hills of Tuscany lit up with violet and amber skies.
People drank and laughed and feasted. Children played and chased each other in the gardens.
I talked some more with my grandmother, who told me stories about my mother when she was a child.
My father got drunk and bonded with Massimo and Niccolo. They all laughed uproariously.
The only slightly sour note was when Fausto came up to congratulate us. Thankfully Aurelio stayed away.
“You look beautiful,” Fausto told me as he air-kissed my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I said as pleasantly as I could.
I remembered his last visit to the estate too well to be too friendly with him.
“And you – congratulations to you, nephew,” he said to Dario.
“I think you mean ‘Don Rosolini,’” Niccolo said pointedly.
“He’s Don Rosolini, I’m Don Rosolini – it all cancels out,” Fausto said good-naturedly.
“Not when you hand out advice as bad as you do,” Niccolo snarked.
Fausto sighed in resignation. “The part about me saying the Turk wasn’t behind it?”
“That would be it.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“We’re all allowed to be wrong once in a while.”
“Not when my wife’s life is on the line,” Dario said coldly.
I liked when Dario said my wife.
“Well, she seems well enough now,” Fausto said smugly. “Ordinarily, I would say she’s come up in the world – from a waitress in a café to a wife in the Cosa Nostra. But seeing as she’s a granddaughter of the Oldanis, it might be you that’s come up in the world, my boy. Forging an alliance like that – ”
“Fausto?” Dario interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Good to see you,” Dario said. He patted his uncle on the shoulder and then turned away, dismissing him abruptly.
Fausto chuckled. “Be careful, Dario. You might need my help someday.”
“Not today, though,” Niccolo said. “Say hello to Aurelio for us. Or you know what? …don’t.”
Fausto glared at Niccolo and Dario but walked off without saying another word.
“Was that wise?” I asked Dario.
“Look who has a new consigliere!” Niccolo said with a laugh. “Maybe you’ll listen to her more than you ever listened to me!”
I gave my husband a reproving look. “Is it smart to be so rude to your uncle?”
“A better question, my love,” Dario said as he kissed my cheek, “is whether he was smart to be so rude towards us.”
“We’re no longer his teenage nephews,” Niccolo said. “The sooner he comes to terms with that, the better.”
