Page 28 of Thus with a Kiss I Die

Cal and Papà gave their consent; Friar Camillo said a short, heartfelt prayer; again we drank. Friar Laurence followed suit with another blessing, this time including a prayer for a fertile marriage. We followed with more wine, and I wanted to groan at the expectations piled so high on my head . . . and my loins.

“With so many holy blessings, this union cannot fail,” Barnadine proclaimed, and sloshed wine out of his goblet onto his waistcoat.

“Say not so!” Papà commanded.

The Montagues murmured reprovingly, for in my family, we do not so challenge the Fates.

Nonna Ursula must have subscribed to the old superstitions, for she spit lightly on my head.

I thanked her and wiped off the damp with my napkin.

She turned her head so she appeared to look up and down the table. “How soon will this blessed event take place?”

“Immediately,” Cal said.

The outcry appeared to startle his royal I-don’t-have-to-worry-about-the-details–ness. “Immediately!” he repeated, as if that would vanquish our protests.

Every Montague at the table looked to me.

“We need time to send the invitations, receive the responses, allow our friends and families to pack, to travel from their homes,” I explained. “They’ll want to attend the wedding.”

“How many relatives can there be?” He sounded incredulous.

Foolish man. Of course, with both his father and mother deceased, and only young Princess Isabella, elderly Nonna Ursula, and perhaps a few aunts, uncles, and cousins as family, he couldn’t comprehend the vast undertaking he proposed.

Mamma started counting on her fingers, and I already knew she would need to use Papà’s hands, too, and mine, and all the digits at the table. “My mother, Lady Capulet, is currently visiting my aunt Samaritana, her sister, in Padua. Romeo’s parents, Lord and Lady Montague, currently reside at the Montague estate and vineyard, and his siblings and their children, of which there are many, live in Verona or are scattered across the lands. Our two married daughters, Susanna and Vittoria, live respectively in Venice and Florence with their husbands.” She looked at me. “Their husbands,who were formerly suitors to Rosaline’s hand, although those marriages were thwarted by Rosaline’s own machinations.”

A sore subject for her, but Cal gestured it aside. “For my sake, I am glad for her machinations, but why must we wait on so many to attend? Are not the people of Verona enough to celebrate properly?”

Another outcry, louder than the first, and many words about “My sisters!” and “My parents!” and “Family!”

Papà put an end to it with loud harumph. “Podestà, you haven’t thought this through. The feud between the Capulets and Montagues is in the past, but among the many hotheads in our families—”

Which was funny . . . because he was the easiest to ignite.

“—the feud is ever ready to take flame once more, and if a slight is perceived, if one minor relative is not given their due in hospitality, the rebellion that left you and Princess Isabella without the loving care of your parents will seem a minor conflagration.”

Cal looked at me for confirmation.

I nodded.

He stood, came around to me, and offered his hand. “Let us promenade.”

I rose and, without touching him, continued ahead of him to the great walk.

“Shouldn’t they have a chaperone?” I heard my mother ask worriedly.

“It’s a little late for that,” Papà said.

CHAPTER16

Iflung out an arm toward the dining room. “There’s the other reason the wedding must proceed at a majestic pace.”

“What reason will you give me now?” Cal might have been testy, might have been irritated.

Which I did not appreciate. “What do you mean by that?”

“Is this not all a tactic to stall the wedding as long as possible?”