Bride By Choice Read online

  Before Lorenzo went to bed he emailed Helen about his arrival. It was meant to be a short note but he got carried away and found himself talking about Bernardo and Angie. Even at this distance she was easy to talk to and the words poured out.

  He paused, wondering if he’d said too much. Would she really be interested in all this family stuff? But she’d said she liked the sound of Angie. He hit the Send button quickly, before he could change his mind, and tottered into bed, jet-lagged out of his mind.

  Her reply was waiting for him next morning.

  If you’re fond of your brother, I won’t tell you what I think of him for walking out on her-

  ‘Thanks,’ Lorenzo murmured with feeling.

  – but if she’s up there in the mountains trying to cope alone I think someone should check if she’s all right. You say she’s practically family. Isn’t that what families do?

  ‘I was going anyway,’ he told the screen, with perfect truth.

  His first day had to be spent closeted with Renato, talking business. But as soon as he could get away he drove up to Montedoro, arriving just as Dr Angie Wendham was finishing her evening surgery. She was beautiful in a blonde, almost fairy-like way, but he thought she looked tired and sad. She hailed him with pleasure and invited him to supper.

  ‘I want to hear all about America,’ she said.

  He’d meant to speak about his travels, his triumphs, but all he could think of was Helen, and for the life of him he couldn’t stop an enormous grin taking over his face.

  ‘What’s her name?’ Angie demanded at once.

  ‘I don’t know why you women always jump to one conclusion. I spent some time with the daughter of family friends in New York. Her name’s Helen and, before you hear wedding bells, I’m the last man in the world she’d dream of marrying. She told me that in the first ten minutes.’

  Angie’s eyes widened. ‘You proposed to her in ten minutes?’

  ‘She didn’t wait for a proposal. She just rushed to tell me not to bother.’

  ‘You don’t mean you’ve met a woman who’s immune to your charm?’

  ‘If you like to put it that way,’ he said, slightly piqued.

  Angie chuckled. ‘I like the sound of her,’ she said, echoing Helen’s own words in a way that gave Lorenzo an eerie feeling.

  ‘Well, don’t keep me in suspense,’ Angie went on. ‘Tell me-ouch!’

  A fork had fallen to the floor and jabbed her foot. Lorenzo watched her bend down for it, then clutch the table. Alarmed, he made a dash and just caught her before she slid to the floor.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said hastily.

  ‘You look a bit peaky.’

  ‘It’s been a long, hard day. I didn’t have time for lunch.’

  He made her sit down while he prepared the supper. ‘How are you managing?’ he asked kindly.

  She told him some of the story, but she still kept many secrets. Lorenzo could only guess what had happened the night of Baptista’s birthday, when Bernardo had followed her up here, and why he had fled the woman he loved so soon after. But remembering how Angie had nearly fainted, he was beginning to think it was time he took a hand.

  The next day he went looking for Bernardo in a deserted farmhouse where he had often hidden away before. He found him there again, and brushed aside Bernardo’s protests. He had come to talk about Angie.

  ‘I’m still your brother and I’m not going to let you screw up the best thing that ever happened to you,’ he said, adding significantly, ‘Things have changed. If you’re going to add to the family, it’s about time you started being a member of it.’

  He left without receiving any promises from Bernardo, but as he jolted over the rough track, wincing at what this was doing to the suspension of his new car, he felt that he’d done a good day’s work.

  Suddenly he braked sharply, astounded by what he had seen under the trees. The next moment he was out of the car, staring across the track in a state of shock. For a searing moment he’d been certain he’d seen Helen.

  There! Beneath the apple trees, standing in the orange dress she’d worn on the last day, laughing as she’d done then. He walked across and looked all around him.

  There was nobody there.

  He looked up and down the road, but he was quite alone.

  Alone.

  Suddenly he didn’t like the sound of the word.

  He wondered what she was doing now. New York was six hours behind Sicily, so she would just have reached work. She would be sitting at her desk, probably talking to Erik. Perhaps they would be leaning over some paperwork together, his fair head close to her dark one.

  It was the blossoms that had done it of course. They had brought back the memory of how they’d walked, hand in hand, under the blossoms in Central Park. He’d tried to describe the beauty of his homeland in spring, and the memory had made him almost hallucinate her presence now. Yes, that must be it.

  But he wished she might really be here with him, so that they could walk together, as they had done in the last hours before they said goodbye.

  That night he emailed her, talking about Bernardo and Angie, but he left out his suspicions of a pregnancy in case it made her even more critical of Bernardo.

  In her reply she said, An odd thing happened yesterday. I went through Central Park on my way to work, and I could have sworn I saw you there. It wasn’t you, of course, just a trick of the light.

  Lorenzo felt the hairs begin to stand up on the back of his neck, and tried to stay cool. Of course they were remembering each other. Nothing in that. And if, by sheer coincidence, her ‘trick of the light’ had come at about the same time as his own, that was no reason to start getting fanciful. He would tell her how he’d seen her under the blossoms, and they would share the joke.

  But he didn’t. Somehow he couldn’t find the right words.

  A week went by with no news from her. He felt aggrieved. They’d agreed to stay friends, after all. Besides, Elroys had made him her responsibility. It wouldn’t hurt to call and remind her that it was her duty to keep in touch. Having decided on the right jocular note, he dialled her apartment, only to be met by an answering machine. Of course, the time difference.

  He could email, but he had a strange desire to hear her voice, so he continued to call and to be met with the answering machine, for the next few hours. In the end he had to sit up until five in the morning. And then the phone was answered by a voice that made him drop the receiver as though it was red-hot, without saying a word.

  Erik!

  Erik was in her apartment at nearly midnight.

  She’d done it, then. She’d used their friendship as a springboard to her own independence. By now she and Erik were probably engaged.

  Great! Wonderful! He couldn’t be happier!

  Hell!

  But the next day there was an email from her. It was a light-hearted account of going to the movies with Erik and taking him home for a meal afterwards.

  The phone rang while I was busy in the kitchen, and as Dilys was out I asked him to answer it. The caller hung up right away, but I know who it was.

  Lorenzo groaned.

  It was Momma. I’m sure of that because she called again later and Erik answered again. Of course I got lectured next day because he was with me so late. Why do people have such suspicious minds?

  ‘Can’t think,’ he murmured.

  He replied in similar light-hearted vein and for a few days they chatted about nothing in particular. If Erik’s name cropped up more than he thought strictly necessary, at least she never again mentioned taking him home.

  They exchanged family news. Giorgio had been cross when Lorenzo went away without proposing, and growled at her until Mamma told him sharply to shut his face. Criticising her daughter was a privilege she reserved exclusively for herself.

  I know our mothers have been thick as thieves about this, she wrote. I hope she isn’t giving you a hard time.

  ‘Just now I’m having a rest from being told I
’m a disgrace to the family,’ he wrote back. ‘Bernardo has returned and he wants to marry Angie, but she’s saying no. She’s pregnant but she won’t have him. Says he asked her for the wrong reasons.’

  Helen’s response was so like her that he could almost hear her indignant voice.

  Good for her! If he only proposed because of the baby he ought to be boiled in oil!

  He was incautious enough to respond, ‘Helen, this is Sicily!’

  Her reply was a sulphurous, Exactly!

  After that she was busy taking her exams. Lorenzo called TransGift, an organisation that would arrange for flowers to be sent from a New York florist. He dictated the card, ‘With love and best wishes, Lorenzo,’ and ordered it to be sent with a huge bouquet of red roses.

  But as soon as he hung up he though, Hell, no!

  He called TransGift back and changed the roses to pink. ‘And the card should read “With best wishes, Lorenzo.”’

  ‘Not “love”?’ the receptionist asked.

  ‘Not love.’

  He replaced the receiver and sat brooding. Perhaps pink was still going too far.

  He called back. ‘Yellow,’ he said. ‘And the card should read, “Best of luck with your exams”.’

  ‘I’ll do that for you, sir.’

  But ten minutes later the doubts struck again. Yellow was a dangerous colour. He grabbed the phone.

  ‘Yes, I’ve sent it through,’ said the exasperated receptionist. ‘But I’m in time to cancel it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘TransGift is a very efficient organisation, sir. If you’re having trouble with flowers, can I interest you in a teddy bear instead?’

  ‘You do teddy bears? Great!’

  ‘What expression would you like on his face? Romantic, macho, silly grin?’

  ‘Silly grin. And a sash saying “Good luck”. No card.’

  When he put the phone down he felt as exhausted as if he’d put in a full day’s work.

  Helen telephoned him that evening. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘He arrived then?’

  ‘Yes, he arrived, and so did-’

  ‘I thought of sending flowers,’ he hurried on, interrupting her in his urgency to make matters clear. ‘But flowers die. You’ll be able to keep him, and every time you see him looking daft you’ll think of me.’

  ‘Well, that’s true,’ she said amused.

  ‘Did you get flowers from-anyone else?’

  ‘Erik sent me red roses, but like you say, they’ll die.’

  ‘I’m sure they’re superb red roses,’ he said, trying not to sound as nettled as he felt.

  ‘The very best,’ she assured him, ‘bought from the hotel shop which will give him an enormous discount. I prefer Gigi.’

  ‘Gigi?’ he echoed, pleased.

  ‘Well, you can’t call a bear Lorenzo, can you?’

  ‘It’s not a bear’s name at all,’ he agreed solemnly. ‘Anyway, the best of luck with your exams. Let me know how you do.’

  When she’d hung up Helen sat looking thoughtfully at Gigi, who grinned foolishly back at her. He was five inches tall, covered in soft golden fur, and beautiful. She pressed her lips against him, then set him down beside the yellow roses that had preceded him by ten minutes.

  Next to them were pink roses, and behind them a bouquet of red roses that cast Erik’s into the shade. Laid out on Helen’s desk were the three cards that had come with them.

  TransGift weren’t quite as efficient as they claimed.

  The exams lasted three days and were gruelling. Helen was well grounded in all aspects of hotel management, both theoretical and practical, and she approached the first test with confidence. But it was much tougher than she’d expected and at home, that evening, she let out a long breath of dismay. From his new home on her dressing table Gigi regarded her with sympathy.

  ‘You’re coming with me tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘I need you.’

  Strangely, the next day, she felt full of renewed confidence. Of course it was superstition to imagine that Gigi’s presence in her bag was making any difference, but she sailed through the most difficult questions, and knew she was doing well.

  When it was all over Erik said mysteriously, ‘I’d like to take you to dinner next Monday evening. The Jacaranda, all the trimmings.’

  ‘Have you come into a fortune?’ she asked, astonished. ‘The Jacaranda costs the earth just to go in the door. I’m honoured, but why not eat here at a discount?’

  ‘Because a discount meal isn’t good enough for what I have in mind,’ he said firmly. ‘There’s something I particularly want us to talk about.’

  This was worrying. Obviously Erik wanted to move their relationship onto a more intense plane, but she wasn’t ready for that, and she couldn’t think why. He was exactly the kind of man she’d always planned to marry, solid, reliable, not Italian.

  At the other end of the scale was Lorenzo, light-hearted, probably unreliable, disgracefully Sicilian, but with a wicked ability to chime in with her mood, and a pair of merry blue eyes that seemed to get between her and Erik.

  Which was nonsense, because they were just buddies. To prove it she told him about the planned evening in her next email. He responded at once.

  ‘He’s taking you to the Jacaranda? Boy, this must be some occasion!’

  Yes, he says he wants to talk.

  ‘So you’ll be engaged to Erik in a few days?’

  To which she replied with a frosty, Nonsense!

  On the night she dressed up and he kissed her hand, smiling his approval. There were flowers on the table, and Erik’s first action was to bring out a black box, with Cartier’s on the lid.

  ‘Open it,’ he said, pushing it across the table to her.

  The box contained a gold chain and locket. Helen regarded it with awe and dismay.

  ‘Erik, I can’t-’

  ‘Wait, let me say my piece. I want you to have this for two reasons. The first is congratulations. You’ve done brilliantly in the exams. You’ll hear officially in a couple of days, and I’ve put in a bid to have you assigned to me. The second is-well, it’s rather difficult but there’s been something I’ve been meaning to say to you-I’ve even thought maybe you guessed-well, anyway-’ he took her hand between his ‘-here goes-’

  She let him keep hold of her hand and heard him out in silence. With every incredible word her happiness grew. They spent a wonderful evening together, and by the time they left she was wearing the gold chain around her neck and a smile on her lips.

  When she checked her computer that night Lorenzo was there, ready and waiting.

  ‘So are you going to marry him?’

  To which she replied simply, Nope!

  Lorenzo considered that word for a long time. It told him nothing beyond the simple fact, and whatever had happened at the Jacaranda must have been more than the simple fact.

  Friends told each other things, didn’t they? She would tell him everything, if he just waited. Showing curiosity would be fatal.

  So he carefully didn’t ask. And she didn’t tell. And after a week he realised, with deep frustration, that she wasn’t going to.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  L ORENZO sent Helen another little bear to congratulate her on her exam results. She thanked him, but then they were both submerged in work and the correspondence faded for a couple of weeks. He took it up again because he had big news.

  ‘Just got back from a wedding,’ he wrote. ‘Angie and Bernardo finally tied the knot in Montedoro. He was going crazy because she wouldn’t say yes, so in the end he asked Mamma for help, and we all turned up at Angie’s front door and told her it was her wedding day.’

  Helen’s reply came whizzing back with the speed of light.

  You kidnapped her and forced her to get married?

  ‘Nobody forces Angie to do anything,’ he responded. ‘She and Bernardo love each other. They just got into a bit of a tangle.’

  You mean, she didn’t do what was exp
ected of her, so she was manipulated.

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  This time there was no reply, just silence. Alarmed, he seized up the phone, and dialled Helen’s number.

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he repeated as soon as she came on the line. ‘We’re all nuts about Angie. We couldn’t just lose her.’

  ‘I’m not going to listen to you,’ she said firmly. ‘You make it sound nice, but actually it just proves I was right all along. Angie should simply have walked out and left Bernardo standing.’

  Four thousand miles plus an imp of mischief emboldened Lorenzo to say, ‘In Sicily a woman just couldn’t do that.’

  He held the receiver away from his ear quickly. Even so her shriek of outrage reached him clearly.

  ‘Martelli, you’re so lucky you’re the other side of the Atlantic!’

  ‘I know. If we’d been face to face I’d have said, “Si, cara, no, cara. Anything you say, cara”.’

  Her chuckle reached him down the line, and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Perhaps that four thousand miles really were useful. Otherwise he might have behaved in a way that would ruin their friendship for ever.

  ‘Lorenzo-are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, of course I am.’

  ‘You went silent suddenly.’

  ‘I was just thinking-’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Um-what about? I was wishing you could have been there with me, and seen for yourself how nice it really was.’

  There was a pause before she said quietly, ‘Do you really?’

  ‘Yes. I keep imagining how it would be if you saw my home and my family, and I could get rid of some of your tom-fool prejudices.’

  ‘You’ll never do that. My tom-fool prejudices and I come as part of a prickly package. Aren’t you glad you escaped while you could?’

  ‘Definitely. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. Working hard.’

  ‘How’s Erik?’

  ‘He’s away at the moment.’

  So he wasn’t in her apartment, Lorenzo thought. He’d been straining to hear any background noise, but to his relief there was nothing.

  ‘What time is it over there?’ he asked.