“These are my real clothes,” Sabrina said.
“Too bad,” Caterina said. “It’s a custom to dress up for dinner.”
“But where did you get this dress?”
“It was in our dress-up closet,” Gianna said. “Someone left it here. We think it’s beautiful. Don’t you like it?”
Instead of answering, Sabrina went into the dressing room and came out wearing the black dress which hit her just below the knees, but otherwise fit her well. The girls exchanged looks then beamed their approval. A gong echoed through the house. She slipped into a pair of ballet flats and combed her hair.
“Dinner time,” Caterina said. Both of their faces were wreathed in wide toothless twin smiles.
They descended the marble staircase together. Below in the reception area it was a scene out of an Italian movie which featured the upper classes at play. In the drawing room there were about a dozen people dressed more or less like Sabrina imagined the upper crust would be. The men were in narrow fitted Italian designer suits, the women in dresses with scoop necks or spaghetti straps, deep décolletage or slits up the sides and not that different from the one she was wearing. The girls were right. Her old sundress would have been out of place.
She was just beginning to relax when she saw the prince look up and drop his jaw when he saw her coming down the stairs. The expression of shock and disapproval on his face was unmistakable. Now what was wrong? The dress? The girls? A nanny in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was he disturbed by the state of his banking affairs and not her?
A servant handed her a glass of some sparkling drink as soon as she set foot on the terracotta floor. In a flash the prince had marched across the floor and was at her side.
“For God’s sake, where did you get that dress,” he demanded.
Chapter Three
His eyes glittered with barely suppressed anger, his mouth so tight he could barely get the words out. He looked at the twins standing a few feet away, who were looking wide-eyed and innocent. He spoke to them sharply in Italian. They shook their heads, shrugged their little shoulders and talked back to their father a mile a minute while gesturing. No doubt explaining she was woefully ill-prepared for the social life in a villa on Lake Como. Or was it all about this dress?
“I really don’t have anything appropriate for a dinner like this,” Sabrina said. “So I borrowed this from…well, the girls suggested it.I hope it’s all right.” From the look on his face it was far from all right.
“No, it isn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll change.” Into what, she didn’t know. But all she could do was to offer.
“You will do no such thing. This is the first dinner party I have had in years. And you appear in that dress. We will have to do something about your wardrobe if you are to stay. For now you will remain right here now and meet the guests and act as though nothing is wrong.” With that he took her arm and held it a little too tightly as he introduced her to a number of men and women as the new nanny. As soon as they heard she was American, everyone very kindly spoke English. If it weren’t for the prince glaring at her, she might have almost enjoyed the occasion just for the novelty of mixing with the rich and well-born Italians.
Now she wondered if not only had she worn the wrong dress, maybe she was supposed to stay in the background, as befitting a member of the staff, but he’s the one who was escorting her through the crowd.
She looked for the girls to quiz them about it but they were gobbling
boccincini
appetizers from a silver platter on the other side of the room.
No matter where he was in the room, or who he was talking to, the prince kept his eyes on her, or on her dress. Every time she glanced at him, their eyes locked and she felt a chill go up her spine. If he thought the pressure would force her to quit her job as other nannies had, he didn’t know her or how much she wanted to stay. Except for the prince himself, everything was better than she’d imagined – the spectacular setting, her quarters, the view, the girls and this beautiful villa.
It would take more than his anger to scare her off, and more than an inadequate wardrobe. If dinner parties were rare around here, she wouldn’t need any fancy dresses. How many nannies attended this type of party? Not many, she was sure. She looked around the room, wondering which of the stylish women here was his fiancée. Was it the blond with the diamond necklace? The flirtatious woman on his left? If she was here wouldn’t he be watching her instead of Sabrina?
When she asked the girls which one she was, they said in unison, “She’s not here.” Then they smiled. From growing up with twin sisters, Sabrina instantly recognized the smiles. They were up to something. And it had to do with Aurora, the fiancée. They didn’t like her, the prince had said. And when the girls didn’t like someone – nanny or fiancée – Sabrina had a feeling they’d better watch out.
A few minutes later Sabrina found herself seated next to the prince at the large oval table with the girls at her side. She didn’t know much about protocol, but wasn’t it strange for the hired help to be seated with the host?
“I thought it best to keep you and the girls close at hand,” he explained.
“Why, are you afraid we’ll misbehave?” Sabrina asked, feeling more confident and alert after her nap.
“I don’t know about you,” Vittorio said, raising his eyebrows and slanting a glance at bodice of her dress. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The fabric was stretched tight across her breasts. Was that why he was staring? What was it about the dress? “But I know the girls are capable of all kinds of tricks. Take your dress, for example. Whose idea was it for you to wear it?”
“Er….”
“I thought so.”
Just then the gentleman on Vittorio’s right asked Sabrina where she was from and they had a short discussion about the charms of San Francisco while Vittorio turned to the woman on his other side and engaged her in conversation.
Between courses, the prince turned to Sabrina and said he’d never been to San Francisco.
“You’ll have to visit and bring the girls. I’m sure they’d like riding on the cable cars and visiting Alcatraz Prison.”
“One of their former nannies suggested a prison was where they belonged,” he said wryly.
“That sounds a bit extreme,” Sabrina said, unfolding her linen napkin.
“You don’t know them,” he said. “I’ll ask you again at the end of the week.”
The week? Hadn’t he said she could stay the summer? What made him think she wouldn’t last any longer?
She lifted her glass to her lips. “The wine is delicious.”
“It’s a local vintage. I like to showcase our home-grown products to these big city people. Like the main course.”
The risotto, creamy and rich with butter, cream and cheese, came on a small plate. Next a waiter served a grilled lake fish called
lavarello
. On the side was a few spears of delicate white asparagus that came from their garden. More courses, each one irresistible, followed until Sabrina wondered how Italians stayed so slim.
“Do you eat like this every night?” she asked him, catching her breath between courses. Whatever she thought of him and his attempts to raise the girls, he had a profile that rivaled any in his portrait gallery and she decided he was by far the most attractive man at the table. No wonder she was tempted to steal occasional glances in his direction. When he met her gaze, she instantly looked away. Why wasn’t his fiancée here to play the hostess role?
“The girls eat in the kitchen with the cook since Nanny Chisholm left,” was Vittorio’s answer to her question. Sabrina glanced at the twins who’d told her that they always dressed for dinner. They were whispering to each other in Italian.
“And I have something light when I come home,” Vittorio continued. “After I’m married…”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Maybe he wasn’t sure how meals would be conducted after his marriage, so Sabrina said, “I don’t believe I’ve met your fiancée.”
“No, you haven’t,” he said brusquely.
Sabrina dropped the subject. The dinner seemed to go on and on, course after course, a salad of fennel and hearts of palm in a balsamic vinegar dressing followed by a veal scaloppini with a sauce made of Chardonnay, capers and lemon. There were fresh peaches for dessert soaked in red wine also made on the premises.
“From our orchard,” the prince said, pointing to the peaches.
“Delicious,” she said.
He gave her a long intense look then turned abruptly and began a conversation with the man next to him on the other side which sounded very business-like.
The twins, having eaten a few bites from each course, proceeded to put their elbows on the table, twisted their hair around their fingers and tapped their shoes loudly on the floor. Sabrina was restless too, but she didn’t know how to leave gracefully. Seated at the head of the table, it wasn’t possible to sneak out. Even if no one else noticed they’d left, the prince would.
Finally someone got up from the table, so she seized the opportunity, and said “Please excuse us.”
The prince hesitated only a moment, nodded and stood, pulling her chair out for her. She grabbed a twin in each hand, and firmly guided them to the stairway, sure that no one, especially their father, would mind if they disappeared.
The girls must have been tired, because they didn’t protest or say much. Maybe they were just tired of trying to behave or tired of dining with grown-ups. Anyway she walked to their room with them. Just a glance inside told her it was a fairy tale room with hand-painted murals on the wall of castles and unicorns, two four-poster beds and a desk with a late model American computer, a printer, speakers, and enough accessories for a small office.
“That’s all yours?” she asked.
“The man from the bank set it up for us. We are on Myspace,” Gianna said.
“We get lots of messages,” Caterina said.
“That’s good you’re computer literate. So tomorrow we’ll began the lessons,” Sabrina said. “We can use your computer.”
Again a look passed between the twins.
“We have summer camp tomorrow,” Caterina said.
“Sailing on the lake, and horseback riding.” Gianna added.
“All day?” Sabrina asked. She had to admit riding and sailing sounded better than studying for an entrance exam to a school they didn’t want to go to. But she had to make herself useful. Or face deportation.
They nodded happily.
Sabrina gave up, said good-night and went to her room, changed into the robe and sat on the balcony watching the lights around the lake reflected in the water. She listened to the waves gently lap against the boat dock. Somewhere across the water a man was singing an Italian song. Even though she didn’t understand a word except
amor
, she knew it must be about lost love. It was so poignant she almost cried. It had been two years since she’d fallen desperately in love with the one man she couldn’t have, the widowed father of little Laila who saw her only as a nanny, a trusted employee and not a possible wife.
She should be over it now. She thought she was. But there were times when the pain came back, throbbing like a wound that wouldn’t heal. Times like tonight when she was faraway from home and facing an uncertain future.