Page 55 of Luca
I furrowed my brows. “Why does it smell like lemons then?”
He chuckled. “There are a lot of lemon and orange trees. They produce a pretty unique citrusy scent.”
We approached another gate and that one opened automatically. As we were passing it, Luca waved to the camera. So somebody was watching, I thought to myself.
Once we were through, the large piece of land opened up to a large villa in the center of it. White stone. Red shutters. A little pathway that led to a garden and a greenhouse.
“God, no wonder your Nonno is happy here,” I muttered. “I’d never want to leave.”
He grinned. “It’s good to hear you like it.”
I flicked a questioning look his way, but he was focused on parking the car so I returned my gaze to the house. Before my hand was on the handle of the door, Luca was already out of the car and around to open the door for me.
At least he is a gentleman, I mused.
Nonno was already out of his house, slowly making his way over to us with a big smile. He wore his signature wide-brimmed hat and his vintage suit with suspenders.
Luca rushed to his grandfather to help him, never letting go of my hand though he was careful not to move faster than I was capable of handling. Nonno noticed it and smiled.
“Margaret,” he beamed. “Benvenuta.” Welcome.
I knew that word. Paolo always welcomed everyone into his tavern. Well, everyone except me. Despite the fact that the head of the Sicilian mafia put in the word for me to get a job there, my poor waitressing skills erased any good graces granted.
“Grazie.” My accent was so awful I was afraid I might have butchered it, I quickly added, “Thank you.”
Nonno took both of my hands into his and squeezed. “Welcome home, Margaret. I hope you have many happy years here.”
I looked at Luca and raised my eyebrow in surprise. I thought we came to tell his grandfather together and yet, it seemed his grandfather already knew.
Nonno chuckled as if he read my thoughts. “I know an eager man when I see one.”
I studied Luca, trying to gauge his expression, but it was unmoved. He didn’t seem eager to me. Shrugging it off, I decided not to comment. Luca took Nonno’s cane, then we each took Nonno’s arm and the three of us made our way slowly back into the house.
“We will have a caffe in my private garden,” Nonno declared. Then as if he remembered, I was pregnant, he added, “And juice for Margaret.”
The three of us sat down amidst plants and dwarf fruit trees, the scent of citrus all around me again.
“Water is fine,” I told him quickly.
Nonno waved his hand like that wasn’t good enough, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek so as not to burst into laughter. He issued orders to a woman with an apron and wrinkles on her face who had to be as old as Nonno.
“I can help her,” I offered, pushing myself off the arm of the chair about to stand up when Luca’s words stopped me.
“It’s your funeral. Nobody goes into Pina’s kitchen. She’ll whip you.”
My eyes flickered to the door she disappeared to. “But she’s like ancient,” I remarked.
“We Sicilians age like fine wine,” Nonno said. “We are not ancient.”
I could see where Luca’s cockiness and smugness came from. He got it from his grandfather.
“Now, let’s talk about the wedding,” Nonno demanded. “It will be here. In this garden, the same one I married your Nonna in.”
A slight pang of guilt hit me. It was clear he loved his wife and it felt like staining their memory to hold our wedding in the same spot as his. Luca and I didn’t love each other. My eyes darted to Luca, giving him a pointed look. He ignored it.
“The sooner the better,” Luca agreed with him,
I couldn’t resist the little jab. “Scared you’ll fall over like my last four fiancés?”
