Page 83 of My Lemon Grove Summer
Chapter Forty-six
The next day, with the verdello safely steeping in alcohol in large jars and everyone busy preparing for the street party, I walk into town. The sun is like a huge orange in the sky. In the main square, Sherise is potting up geraniums with Valerie.
‘They’re lovely,’ I say.
‘Yes. Carina gave them to us. They weren’t selling, she said. Thought they would brighten the place up for this evening.’ She smiles. Valerie attempts a smile too, but I can tell she’s still feeling bad about what she did and is keeping her head down. I can’t stay cross at her, though. It was my fault too. I should never have kissed Luca. I should never have let my guard down. I should have learned by now to stop being so impulsive. Marrying Lennie is all about finally growing up – and helping this town that I have come to love, I think as I start down the twisty cobbled street towards Luca’s place, passing the little houses on either side of me, and various locals who all raise a hand and wish mebuongiorno.
I wave back and wish them a good day too.
When I reach the lemon grove, I push the gate open and the dogs come rushing from their shady spot under one of the trees to greet me. They have been devoted to each other from the moment they laid eyes on each other, inseparable, as if it was love at first sight. And who said there was no such thing? I try and laugh at myself, but the painful truth is that I’ve come to realise that I was wrong.
I make my way up the steps to Luca’s apartment and knock. Every part of me feels as nervous as a child on its first day at school. Telling myself it’s because I’m going to see my dress, finally finished, I take a huge breath and tug at the scarf around my neck. I have to go in. It’s now or never, or I will just turn back and then I won’t have a dress to wear in two weeks’ time.
‘Buongiorno,’ I call through the beaded curtain over the door, and I slide my hand in and push it back with a tinkling sound and step onto the cool tiled floor.
Luca, glasses perched on the end of his nose, is standing next to my dress on a mannequin, and I’m not sure which one takes my breath away more.
The dress is everything I could have hoped for . . . and more. I begin to walk around it as the sun streams in through the big open doors. Luca pulls off his glasses, his hair parting naturally in the middle and falling down across his forehead. He pushes it back with one hand, the hands that have made this dress just for me; the dress that says: thisisme.
I feel tears prickle my eyes and wish I had someone here to share this moment with. But who? Not my mother. It’s Valerie who has always been there for me, more like a mum than my own ever was. She hasn’t left me. She was just frightened of us leaving her, of being lonely, on her own. I remember how lost and alone I felt before she scooped me up. If anyone should understand, it’s me. I vow to put things right with her as soon as I leave here, at the street party tonight.
‘Let me make some coffee,’ says Luca, giving me the space he can see I need just to take in the dress and what it means. I walk around it, taking in the detail: the lace, the lemon netting and lemon blossom embroidery.
He comes back with coffee and a plate of small cakes.
‘Cannoli?’ He smiles, holding the plate out to me. I reach out a shaking hand and take one, then turn away, biting into the soft pastry and its creamy filling and letting the delights of it melt in my mouth and distract me just for a second.
When I turn back, he’s looking at me.
‘So, are you ready to try it on?’
And I swallow, hard.
He takes the dress into his bedroom, where three suits are hanging, presumably for Lennie, Ralph and Barry. They’re so smart, sharp and pressed. The bed is neatly made, and again, I swallow, realising that this is where this man was lying not so many hours ago. There is something very, very sensual about that thought.
‘If you need any help, just call me,’ he says as he goes to close the bedroom door.
I definitely won’t need help, I think. There is no way I can ask him for help. I just wish my shaking hands would work with me on this one.
Finally dressed, I look into the full-length mirror and catch my breath. Can this really be me? How have I changed so much and not noticed? There’s a slight tan on my face and a glow about me, and the dress seems to enhance every good bit and gloss over the not-so-good.
When I step out of the bedroom, the expression on Luca’s face brings tears to my eyes all over again. It is the look I have always dreamed someone would give me, like I was everything they had been waiting for in life.
‘You lookbellissimo, just beautiful,’ he says, and I can hear a crack in his voice.
‘It’s the dress,’ I say quickly, trying to bat away the compliment as I blush hotly. I look down at the soft waves of satin. ‘I don’t know how you did it. It’s everything I could have wanted.’
‘I had hoped it would be. I have got to know you so well over these past few weeks, it was easy to make a dress that described you.’
We both look at it.
‘Now, let me just make the final alterations. Stand on this box and turn around. Do you have the ribbon with you?’
‘Yes, here . . .’ I take it from the bag and hand it to him.
‘Something old, something new, isn’t that what they say? A piece of Città d’Oro’s past here at the start of your new life.’ He begins to pin the ribbon around me, and his fingers touching my back send a thousand volts through me.
‘Yes,’ I try and say.
