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“Why? Why won’t you listen? Stay out of it!” Catalina snapped.

Mira blinked at her, shocked. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Giovanni is not stupid. You keep meddling he will catch on. Stop interfering. It’s not your damn business. You aren’t my mother!!” Catalina shouted at her, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Catalina? I’m sorry.”

“I am marrying Franco and that’s it!” she stormed out of the room and slammed the door.

****

The place was beautiful. Mira found the lower level decorated in yellow and blue flowers and trimmed in ribbons. The floors shined. Light poured in from every angle, and no door was closed. So many people moved about she recognized no one. In the left corner of the foyer was a string quartet playing a romantic melody that welcomed the guests and family members as they poured through the door. Mira glanced up to the top of the stairs, wondering where Giovanni was.

She decided to go to the outside terrace and try to locate a friendly face. Then a touch came to her hand. Her head turned. “Morning beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. His voice was just one of the things she loved about him. Inhaling his scent and feeling his strong presence envelope her, she smiled to herself once again.

Giovanni ran his hand across her lower tummy slowly then to her hip, turning her in his arms. She opened her eyes to see him dressed, shaven, and looking strikingly handsome. She also sensed the open stares of people. Some stopped their conversations to watch them.

“I think we have an audience,” she said about to lower her arms. He drew her even tighter into his embrace and kissed her softly on the lips. Mira’s eyes stretched. She felt her cheeks flame with a blush, but she didn’t turn away.

“This is Catalina’s day. Let’s not be a distraction.” She lowered her arms and gently pushed free of his hold. He glanced up and those staring looked away or walked off.

“You’re right. But you are mine, and I don’t care who knows it.”

A woman approached. Mira noticed her first. Tall, with dark flowing hair that feathered away from her pretty face. She had clear grey eyes and the body of a model, with a pair of perfect shaped breasts over a petite waist, curvy hips, and long slender legs. Her eyes locked with Mira’s. With dark hair, and olive skin, she wore a tightly fitted green skirt and matching silk blouse.

“Gio, ciao, bello,” she said in a seductively low voice. Mira waited for him to react, for him to give her the customary kiss on both of her cheeks as he did the others present. He didn’t. He glanced down at her and his face became a frozen mask of non-expression. The woman extended her hand to Mira. “Hello, I’m Gabriella.”

“I’m Mira, pleased to meet you.”

“Yes! Mira Ellison. I know who you are. I love your work.”

“Thank you.”

Gabriella glanced up at Giovanni who continued to stare at her. “You have a lovely home. After all these years, I finally get to see the great Battaglia place.”

The way he stared at the woman only made the awkwardness more unbearable.

“It was nice to meet you, Mira.” Gabriella said and moved on.

“Who was she?”

“No one.Andiamo.” They walked out toward the open terrace where most were gathered. Mira glanced back to see the woman glaring after them. The polite smile had completely drained from her face. Giovanni introduced her to family members. A barrage of uncles and aunts from Palermo, distant cousins that were considered family all smiled politely and most spoke to her in Italian. She struggled to communicate so he translated. The shock and curiosity in their eyes was hard to miss. Apparently Giovanni wasn’t one to parade any woman around them, let alone a black American woman. Giovanni either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care because he led her from one group to the next, making introductions. Mira was reminded of what he shared with her in regards to his mother and the way she was treated in Palermo while pregnant with him. Eve must have felt like she was all alone in the world.

She recovered in time to see Rocco and Zia Carlotta stepping up into view. The old man had abandoned his overalls for jeans and a pressed plaid shirt, his curly silver hair framing his wrinkled sun bleached skin.

“Ciao Bella.” Rocco kissed her left and right cheeks. Mira drew back in time to avoid a kiss to the lips. The conversation was brief. Mira didn’t feel the frost from Zia she had felt upstairs. She was sure the woman couldn’t decide on whether she liked Mira or not. And soon Giovanni was distracted from his little game of meet and greet. Men in his family constantly approached. Several kissed his ring. She tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help but see the mixture of fear and respect in several of their faces.

Rocco and Zia Carlotta left Mira to stand at Giovanni’s side. Her gaze drifted across the room, and she saw Fabiana in a corner talking to Lorenzo. The swelling to Lorenzo’s jaw and eye was ghastly. How he managed to smile at Fabiana and the other guests with all the bruising was beyond her.

“Bella,Prego. Have something to eat. I’ll come find you.” Giovanni kissed her hand and walked off.

Alone. She glanced around and found herself again being stared at from every corner of the room. She walked toward the buffet. Fruit, pastries, and sliced meats and cheese were arranged in a colorful display. All she wanted was coffee.

“Looks great doesn’t it?” A soft voice drifted through to the left of her.

Mira looked over to the woman she’d noticed earlier sipping on cappuccino. Gabriella had a thick accent but spoke English well enough.

“Yes, it does.”